Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What’ve you got for me, grasshopper?” I asked as I took a seat across from my former apprentice, who was now kind of my boss.

Molly grimaced as she curled her hand around her paper cup. “You’re not gonna like it.”

I sighed, disappointed, but not surprised. I was the Winter Knight, and as such, I was bound to the will of the Winter Court. I’d been worried enough about the kinds of assignments that I’d be forced into once I took up the mantle, but something that had never even occurred to me was how my life could be controlled even when I wasn’t fulfilling a job for the Queens of Winter (outside of the Winter Mantle doing its damndest to influence my actions, of course). In particular, I wasn’t expecting to be married off. But Winter is old-fashioned like that. 

The order came directly from Queen Mab, which meant there was very little work-around. Well, technically no work-around, but I refused to believe that. But even though Molly was the Winter Lady, Mab’s word was law, and as much as the younger queen may want, she couldn’t just let me out of this obligation. Which was why she’d been trying to figure out a legitimate way to get me out of my upcoming nuptials. 

I was, of course, also looking for a way out, but we’d met up for coffee today so that she could fill me in on how things were going on her end. Because I was coming up with bupkis. 

“There’s no way out,” I sighed, running my hand over my face. We’d been at this for five months now. It wasn’t looking good.

Molly bit her lip. “Well…” she hedged.

My eyes widened and my hand dropped down to the table. “What?”

“Mab’s not budging,” she quickly confirmed what I had already known to be the case. Mab didn’t budge. “With the state of everything right now, she’s dead-set on showcasing the strength of Winter with a powerful alliance.”

Yeah, I knew that. Mab had explained as much when she’d first dropped the news of the marriage on me. In the aftermath of the Battle of Chicago, much of humanity’s eyes had been opened to what lay waiting in the shadows. And a good portion of them refused to close their eyes again. There was a good reason why the supernatural community was so secretive. If you don’t understand, look up the Inquisition, the Salem witch trials… you’ll get the idea.

That night had been a turning point for the world - humanity and the supernatural alike. Sure, the government was trying to sweep it under a rug, but people were looking more closely now. They were less likely to dismiss something that went against their understanding of the world. And the accorded nations of the supernatural community were scared.  

As the figurehead behind the Accords, Mab had a lot of damage control to do. And a large part of that was simply making a show of how the strength of Winter - of the Accords - had not and could not be shaken. I just didn’t understand why that meant I had to get married.

Still, I grunted to communicate my understanding of the situation to Molly.

“The White Court is a powerful ally, but… they’re not the only one. The only reason they were Mab’s first choice is because Lara asked for that binding alliance,” she explained, a hint of bitterness twisting her words.

I straightened in the booth, sensing where this was going. I didn’t want to be forced into marriage, period, but… maybe there was a better option. But then again, were there any good options among the accorded nations? Like hell was I marrying a ghoul - the very thought sent rage curling in my stomach. But hey, maybe Mab would want me to marry a Valkyrie to strengthen her alliance with One-Eye. Not ideal, but better than a White Court vampire.

“There are other options?” I asked hopefully.

The look on Molly’s face wasn’t promising. “One other option,” she answered carefully. “There was someone who… made quite the impression during the Battle of Chicago, impressing many of the accorded nations. And the main threat everyone is worried about right now is humanity, so…”

I felt a weight settle in my gut as she trailed off. I knew where this was going, and the answer was no. Hell no.

Molly must have seen the anger flare in my eyes because she added, “I told you, you wouldn’t like it.”

“You told Mab to shove it, right?” I growled, even though I was pretty sure the Winter Lady was physically incapable of telling the queen to ‘shove it.’

“I told her I would pass it along,” she replied evenly.

My eyes might have bugged out of my skull. I couldn’t be sure. “You didn’t tell her there’s no way in hell I’d agree to that?”

“No,” she sighed before meeting my eyes. “Harry, I think you should consider your options.”

Okay, surely my eyes bugged out at that. “That’s not an option,” I spluttered.

“We’ve been at this for months!” She threw her hands in the air, caught somewhere between exasperated and desperate. “We have to consider the possibility that there’s no way out of this. And if your options are between Lara and-”

“Don’t say it,” I cut her off warningly. I couldn’t even fathom the thought.

“Think about it, Harry,” she implored. “Would you really rather marry into the White Court?”

I thought about it. I thought about my White Court brother, who I was still desperately trying to save. I thought about mine and Lara’s promises to each other that we would save him. I thought about my mother, and all that must have transpired between her and the White King, up to and including him murdering her. I thought about my grandfather, who hated the White Court so much, he would have killed me in his anger. I considered how much I trusted Lara, and how beyond the life of our brother, it wasn’t much.

And then I considered my other option. I considered the blood on his hands. I considered the fallen angel in his head. And okay, yeah, I considered the fact that he was a guy, because that’s an important detail when you’re talking about marriage. But mostly, I considered the fact that I would be tied to him. And that I couldn’t allow.

But then I thought about Maggie. Maggie, who shouldn’t be involved in any of this, but as my daughter, was inevitably going to be affected. I had to consider her in this, too. And while I couldn’t see either of them being the doting step-parent she deserved, I knew how one of them would react to even the thought that a child could be harmed or used, let alone his step-child.

That didn’t mean it was the better option. Either way, I was exposing Maggie to a side of things that I didn’t want her to see. But dammit, which was worse? A criminal scumbag with a fallen angel in his head, or a White Court vampire?

I shook my head, rubbing at my eyes. “These aren’t good options, Molls.”

“I know,” she said sympathetically. “Believe me, I tried to get more, but Mab’s set on this. It’s between them.”

I glared at the wall of the coffee shop. “Does he know?”

Molly shook her head. “Like I said, Lara said she wanted an alliance, so Mab never approached him on it. She said she’d be willing to renegotiate Lara’s last favor, though, if you got him to agree.”

I hadn’t dared to take a drink of my coffee since this conversation started, but even still, I choked at that. “If I got him to agree?”

“She said if you want another option, you have to create it,” Molly said in much the same voice she would use when quoting something her mom would say.

I found myself shaking my head frantically. Of all the conversations I’d ever wanted to have with Gentleman John Marcone, that was nowhere near on the list. Mostly, I’d be happy to never see or talk to him again, but I was never that lucky. “The only option I want is out.”

“I know,” she said in a small voice. “And I want to get you out Harry, but…”

“I know,” I muttered. “It’s not your fault.” I sighed as I finally turned to look at her again. “What’s your advice?” Part of growing older and maturing was learning when to stop being stubborn in your own decisions and knowing when to take advice from the people around you. And people said I’d never get here.

Molly worried her bottom lip for a minute. “I don’t trust Lara,” she finally said carefully. “I mean, I don’t trust Marcone either, but… at least we can always get a general idea of what he’s after. I don’t know with Lara, and I think there’s lines she’ll cross that Marcone won’t. Lines that could be a problem for you, Harry. You’ve worked with Marcone more, and you have more of an idea what to expect from him.”

“From him, yes,” I allowed darkly. “But it’s not just him.”

She nodded. “I know. And that’s… a problem, for sure. But it’s not just Lara you’ll have to worry about, either. You could potentially be allowing the entire White Court into your house.”

I shuddered at that thought. Then I thought of my alternative. And I shuddered at that.

“Think on it, Harry,” she urged as she rose to her feet, coffee in hand. “But know that Mab is wanting to announce the engagement soon. I can only put her off so long.”

I nodded as I watched her turn away and walk for the door, dropping the remainder of her coffee in the trash on her way.

So, I had a choice. Not a great choice, a really crappy choice, actually. But a choice. Lara Raith. Or John Marcone.

Chapter Text

It was a couple weeks later, and I was still no closer to making a decision on who to marry, when Mab paid a visit to Castle Dresden. And sure, that was mildly horrifying, but I was kind of used to it at this point. What I was more scared of was that she was coming regarding a certain engagement announcement that I was nowhere near ready to make. For once, I got lucky.

“A job?” I clarified. Okay, a job. I could do a job. As long as it didn’t involve killing anyone, which was never a guarantee with Mab.

“A member of the Winter Court who has defied me,” Mab explained, her rage apparent not just in her voice, but in the darkness that had already spread over her suit and was highlighting her normally radiant-blond hair. “And I have more important matters to attend to. The Arithi will be in Chicago tonight, and I expect you to apprehend her and deliver her to me.”

I blinked in surprise. One, who the hell was dumb enough to defy Mab? Oh, apart from me. I supposed this Arithi must think she was too busy avoiding war with all of humanity, while waging it against the Fomor. But if Mab let such insults slide just because of a little thing like war, that wouldn’t look too good for the strength of Winter. And two… “She’ll be here?” I asked incredulously.

Mab inclined her chin in a very slight nod. “There is an event at the Art Institute this evening, which will be attended by several people in positions of power. It is my understanding that the Arithi will take the opportunity to… further destabilize things in the city.”

My fists clenched at my sides. Chicago had gone through enough. This was my city. How dare…. I took a calming breath as I reflected on the facts Mab had just laid out for me. An event that was to be attended by people in power didn’t sound like something that would be open to the unwashed masses. “Do I have a way in, or do I have to find my own way?” I started humming the Mission Impossible theme.

“The event is invite-only,” the Winter Queen confirmed. “But I was able to secure you as a plus-one.”

“Lara?” I guessed, my lips twisting into a grimace. Mab did say she wanted Lara and me to make public appearances, after all, and we… hadn’t really done much of it. Hey, I was too busy trying to find a way out, and I don’t know what her excuse was. Aside from me not answering her calls, at least.

“Unfortunately, she was not invited. But there was another option.”

I rocked back on my heels slightly. Another option. Of course there was.

“Baron Marcone should be arriving shortly to go over the details,” she continued, fixing me with a level stare. “I trust you to behave.”

“I will if he does,” I muttered pettily, crossing my arms over my chest. Marcone brought out the worst in me, okay? Another reason I couldn’t marry the guy. “What does he get out of this?” I asked with a bitter taste in my mouth. There was no such thing as unequivocal exchange among the supernatural, and especially not in Faerie. 

“One favor,” Mab said, her voice clear and her eyes boring into my soul. “Which will be your responsibility.”

“Fuck that!” I spat. No way in hell was I doing Marcone a favor.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “This is not up for negotiation, my Knight. You will repay the Baron his due.”

I ground my teeth together angrily, glaring at the castle door. I knew how Winter favors worked. Marcone could ask me for anything, and I would have to oblige. It wasn’t a fun feeling, and I just knew the fact that it was Marcone was going to make it worse.

“And once you have completed this task,” Mab’s icy voice continued. “We will be announcing your engagement to Lara Raith.”

My stomach churned. Right. I guess my outburst painted a pretty clear picture that I wasn’t willing to do anything for Marcone, let alone marry the guy. I couldn’t exactly blame Mab for coming to that conclusion. But… dammit, I still didn’t know who the better option was. And just because I didn’t want the better option to be Marcone, that didn’t mean it wasn’t the case.

But before I could explain that I hadn’t actually made my decision yet, Mab was gone.

*

I had just enough time to get some more information on this Arithi from Bob before there was a knock at my door. It was a decent-sized castle, and I was down in the sub-basement that was left over from my old apartment, so the only reason I heard was because of the enchantment that carried the knock throughout all the walls of the castle. Still, Marcone didn’t know about that - it was one of those features he’d apparently never learned how to activate - so I took my time finishing my conversation with Bob before I made my way back upstairs. Marcone had already knocked two more times at this point, and it was doing my heart some good to know I was chipping away at the bastard’s patience.

“Mr. Dresden,” Marcone greeted me politely, his expression cool and composed. Maybe there was a flicker of impatience behind that mask, but he clearly didn’t want to give me the satisfaction of expressing it. 

I didn’t say anything. I just took a half-step to the side, just enough to give him room to enter. I glared, making it very clear that I had absolutely no intention of inviting him in. For a vanilla mortal, that wouldn’t be a problem, but Marcone was a Knight of the Blackened Denarius. Sure, I had wards - a shit-tone of wards that had come pre-installed, plus some of my own additions - but I’d lowered them when I opened the door. The real kicker for a being like that was the threshold.

There are a lot of factors that affect the strength of a threshold. The threshold of my old apartment, for example, had been fairly mediocre. Sure, the place had been homey, had been my home, but at the end of the day, it had still been an apartment, and one that was essentially a bachelor pad. This castle, though. Not only did I own it, not only was the whole place mine, from top to bottom, but most importantly, I was raising my daughters here.This was a family home. And nothing strengthened a threshold quite like that.

Marcone just looked at me for a moment, the corner of his mouth ticked up in amusement. And then he walked inside. No problem whatsoever.

I blinked, and Marcone’s amusement only grew at my moderately flabbergasted expression. “I don’t have it on me, Dresden.”

I scowled at him as I closed the door behind him. “What? You just told Namshiel to be a good boy and wait at home?” I asked skeptically.

“Yes.” He turned to face me fully, pausing to enjoy my surprise before continuing. “I can summon the coin to me whenever I need, I hardly need to keep it on my person.”

Damn. I’d figured that Marcone was in control of the Fallen, but damn. To be able to pick up the coin and put it down at will. I had a pretty strong will - I had imprisoned a Titan with it - but I didn’t think I could do that. I remembered Nicodemus telling me that he was in the driver’s seat of his partnership with Anduriel, and had the sudden thought that Marcone could give him a run for his money. I almost smiled at that. Almost.

Instead I shrugged casually as though I wasn’t impressed by his self-control. “Guess that makes sense,” I said casually.

Judging from the pleased gleam in his eyes, I don’t think I fooled him. But he let the matter drop, instead turning to observe the castle with his hands in his pockets. “Your interior decorating leaves something to be desired.”

I glared at the back of his head. “Yeah, well, the previous owner was an asshole who stripped the place down to its bones before leaving. I’ve had to spend most of my money just making this place livable.”

“Hmm,” he hummed thoughtfully, and I could hear the smug smile in his voice. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have bit off more than you can chew.” He glanced back at me over his shoulder.

I stuck my tongue out at him. What? It’s a perfectly justifiable response for your local crime boss being annoyingly petty. I was just matching his maturity level.

Marcone rolled his eyes. “Shall we get down to business, Dresden?”

So, the next couple of hours were spent at my kitchen table, briefing Marcone on the situation and coming up with a plan of attack. With the way my life goes, it didn’t really surprise me that after having spent the past weeks thinking about John Marcone far more than I prefer to, I was now forced to spend hours of one-on-one time with the guy, adding to my torture. And I somehow got the feeling that Mab knew exactly what she was doing. This was definitely punishment for all the times I undermined her authority over me.

“If this trap doesn’t succeed,” Marcone began, and I rolled my eyes at his optimism. “What do we know of her fighting style?”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I muttered. Given what I’d found out from Bob, I didn’t like our chances. At Marcone’s raised eyebrow, I explained. “What she’s best at is making allies turn on each other. It’s her signature move in a fight to get the heat off of her.” Given mine and Marcone’s well-known animosity towards each other, we would be too easy a target in that regard.

Marcone nodded, clearly seeing the same problem. “How does she do it? Mental attack?”

I shook my head. “Not exactly. She’s still Fae, she can’t lie, so she forms a link between allies that shows what they really want out of the other. It’s probably how she intends to stir up trouble tonight - reveal who all is using each other.”

“How can we shield against it?” he demanded sharply. There wasn’t much that could make Marcone look disturbed, and the fact that he did now unsettled me. What was he so worried about me seeing? Probably whatever plan he had in place to kill me whenever I eventually proved to be more trouble than I was worth. And there was another point against marrying him - I wondered how many I was at now.

“From what I can tell, we can’t. At least not on this short notice.” Maybe if I’d had time, I’d be able to work with Bob to come up with a potion or something, but with the event being tonight, that wasn’t an option. “She has to be touching both of us for it to work, so we’ll just have to make sure at least one of us is always out of her reach.”

He frowned. “That could be difficult, considering you’re my date. If she pegs us before we have the opportunity to lure her away-”

“Wh- I- I am not your date!” I spluttered, aghast. 

Marcone arched an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Your options are date or bodyguard, and I assumed you would take issue with publicly working for me.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong there. But date? I scowled. “Oh yeah, but publicly dating you is so much better.”

He raised his hand, palm up as though presenting me with my options. Always with the options. “One date doesn’t necessarily mean anything in the eyes of the public. Being perceived as my bodyguard could make a more lasting impression, considering…” He trailed off and his jaw tightened, anger flashing oh-so-briefly in his eyes.

I tilted my chin in understanding. Marcone had yet to fill the position of bodyguard, since Hendricks gave his life in his defense during the Battle of Chicago, and the absence of the hulking redhead glowering behind him was rather conspicuous. I hadn’t thought much of it, beyond assuming that he didn’t have much need of a personal bodyguard now with one of the Fallen in his head. But seeing the anger in his eyes now, I wondered if his reasoning wasn’t something less practical and more human. 

Marcone had lost his best friend that night, and I could all-too-clearly imagine the emptiness he’d left in Marcone’s life. I could imagine it because I’d experienced it, too. Was experiencing it. With Murphy…. Damn, it still hurt to even think her name. When you lose someone that close to you, you can’t just replace the role they had in your life. Marcone didn’t have a new bodyguard because he didn’t want anyone but Hendricks by his side. And if I posed as his bodyguard tonight, if people thought he had gone and replaced him, it would be an insult to his memory.

I nodded. “Fine, date then,” I muttered without as much venom as I could have had.

“Excellent.” He was instantly composed again as he lifted his wrist to check his watch. “It’s almost three-”

“What?! Dammit!” I leapt to my feet, jogging over to where I keep my car keys. “You need to go.”

Marcone raised his eyebrows in blatant surprise. “My people dropped me off. I’m to be at your disposal for the evening, per my agreement with your boss.” He frowned. “Dresden, what’s wrong?”

I paused halfway between Marcone and the entry to the kitchen, grinding my teeth together. “I have to pick my daughter up from school,” I finally sighed, meeting his eyes. Not many people knew about Maggie, and even though of all my enemies, Marcone was definitely who I would trust the most with that knowledge, I still hadn’t planned on telling him. Unless certain circumstances demanded, of course.

His eyes widened just slightly, betraying his surprise. “I see…. I can wait here.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Nuh-uh. This is my castle, you’re not staying here.”

He gave an exasperated sigh. “Then what would you suggest, Mr. Dresden?”

I deliberated for a moment. I had to leave soon, or I was going to be late. And the mental image of little Maggie waiting by the sidewalk, unsure if something horrible had happened to me, spurred me into making a decision. “Come one,” I muttered, turning on my heel to stalk out of the room. “You’re coming with me.”

And then I left to pick up my daughter from school with John Marcone.

Chapter Text

“When she gets in the car, you will politely greet her when I introduce you, and that’s it, okay?” I ground out between clenched teeth, my eyes flashing to the mob boss riding shotgun in the Munstermobile. Picking up my daughter from school with John Marcone wasn’t a position I ever thought I would find myself in. I’d planned to keep them far away from each other, but now here we were. To say I was on edge would be an understatement.

“You don’t have to worry, Dresden,” Marcone assured me in a level tone. 

“Look, she’s seen enough monsters, okay?” I snapped.

He nodded somberly, something flicking through his expression too quickly for me to catch. But I knew Marcone. I knew what it was. Kids exposed to danger, to monsters… was not something he tolerated. It was the only reason I felt comfortable enough to let him tag along in the first place. I felt myself relax just slightly as I pulled into the school parking lot.

“I’m gonna warn her before she gets to the car,” I muttered as I pulled up to the curb. “Meeting new people is tough for her.”

I could see Marcone visibly making an effort to appear non-threatening as I unbuckled and got out of the car. If I was less tense right now, I might have laughed at that.

I reached the sidewalk as my daughter exited the building, one hand holding a sheet of paper, and the other clutched in the fur of her own personal wooly doggoth, who was sporting a bright red service dog vest. It was a good look for him, but personally I preferred Maggie’s t-shirt that read ‘I Get My Attitude from My Dad’, which Molly had gotten her, along with her purple and green backpack with Yoda on it. Though I had been informed that it was actually ‘Baby Yoda’ or ‘Grogu’, but unfortunately I wasn’t up to date on the latest Star Wars canon due to my inability to own a TV.

I smiled at the sight of my little girl, despite my tension, and after checking in with the teacher, I pulled her into a hug. 

“Hey, Maggie.” I held her tightly for a moment, cherishing the feel of her in my arms. It had become a bit of a grounding exercise for me, and for her too, I suspected.

“Hi, Dad.” Her words were slightly muffled by my shoulder.

As I put her down, Mouse nudged himself under my hand and I scratched him behind the ears. “Hey, boy.”

I took my daughter’s hand, tiny within my own, and led them back towards the car, but stopped a couple feet in front of it to drop to a knee in front of Maggie. “I need to talk to you for a sec.”

I saw the worry on her face, but she quickly schooled her features to one of fierce determination and she nodded. My brave little girl.

“I’m working a job, and I have someone with me,” I explained gently. “We were in the middle of something, and I’m his ride. You don’t have to talk to him, if you don’t want to, you don’t even have to acknowledge him. He’ll understand.”

She let the news sink in for a second. “People are in danger,” she thought aloud. 

“Yeah,” I confirmed. Maggie knew what was out there, and lying to her about it did her no favors. She knew what I did. At least, the Wizard of Chicago side of it.

“And he’s helping you save them,” she continued her line of thought.

I blinked. “Yeah,” I answered honestly. She didn’t need the details of how Marcone was only helping to get a favor out of Winter. Besides, who knew? The stability of his city was in danger, he might have gotten involved, anyway.

She nodded resolutely. “I’d like to meet him.”

“Okay.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “How’s spending the night with the Carpenter’s sound?”

She hesitated, biting her lip adorably. “What about Burger King Friday?”

Burger King Fridays was a tradition that had started with the school year where, as the name suggests, we’d go to Burger King for dinner every Friday after I picked her up from school. It was entirely selfless.

I gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “We can stop on the way.” Marcone and I would need dinner, anyway. And forcing the mobster to eat at Burger King would make this situation more tolerable for me.

“Okay, then,” she agreed. Mouse gave an agreeable woof.

The three of us walked around to the other side of the car, and I opened the door for them. Mouse climbed in first, eyed Marcone with a faint rumble in his chest, and Maggie followed closely after.

“Maggie, this is John Marcone,” I introduced as he turned to look back at us. “Marcone, this is my daughter, Maggie.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Maggie,” Marcone said gently, inclining his head towards my daughter.

Her fist tightened in Mouse’s fur and she half hid behind the large dog. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Marcone,” she said in a small voice.

Mouse huffed a breath, clearly not liking being left out. “And you’ve met Mouse,” I added.

“Hello again, Mouse,” Marcone said seriously, his lips twitching just slightly at the name.

Mouse responded with a doggy grin, clearly having decided that Marcone was a friend, not foe, at the moment. Well, that was good enough for me. Still, I’m pretty sure I made record time between shutting the back door and climbing into the driver’s seat, not wanting to leave Maggie alone with Marcone for a millisecond longer than was necessary.

“How was school, punkin?” I asked as I navigated out of the hell that was an elementary school parking lot. I had made the decision to ignore the criminal scumbag beside me, and treat this like any other school day. Maggie deserved some normalcy in the weirdness that surrounded our lives.

Maggie hesitated. “It was fine,” she said quietly.

I glanced in the rearview mirror to see that both hands now had a death grip on Mouse and she was staring at the floor. Sure, it could have been due to the fact that there was a stranger in the car, but something - and I don’t know if it was wizardly or fatherly instinct - but something told me that that wasn’t the case.

“Did something happen?” I asked, making the effort to keep my voice gentle, despite the fact that the very thought of something hurting my daughter made me want to set something on fire. 

Her eyes darted to Marcone, then me, then back down to Mouse. “Someone said at lunch today…” Her next words came out muffled as she buried her face in Mouse’s back. “Their parents say there are vampires in Chicago.”

Empty Night. Before the Winter Mantle, I would’ve described the sensation that followed like ice water being injected into my veins. Given my current condition, I’d like to amend that to iron. Because that fucking stung. I fought against the urge to close my eyes. I was driving, that wouldn’t be good.

“They’re not like the Red Court,” I quickly assured. “The Red Court is gone. They’re not going to touch you.”

“But there are vampires?” she mumbled, her voice quivering. 

“They will not touch you,” I repeated firmly. “They know better.”

Dammit, how dare Mab put me in this position? Maggie had already been traumatized by the Red Court vampires that had killed her foster family and kidnapped her. Of course, the very mention of the word ‘vampire’ terrified her. And given that history, how the hell could I marry Lara and expose her to the White Court? What kind of a father would I be if I did that?

“What’s that?” Marcone murmured, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced aside at him with a warning look as I saw his attention directed to the backseat. But as his eyes flickered to me, I realized what he was doing. He was offering a distraction to my daughter while I reigned in my temper at the fact that this fear had ever been instilled upon her in the first place. And at the fact that I might be furthering it, though he didn’t know that bit. 

Maggie hesitated before answering softly. “A fundraiser. If I sell 300 candy bars, I can get all the prizes.” A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed she was chewing on her bottom lip nervously. “Would you like to buy some, Mr. Marcone?”

“May I see it?” He slowly extended his hand to her, somehow making the gesture cautious without treating her like a wild animal that might be spooked, and she passed him the paper she’d been holding.

I watched in my peripheral as Marcone looked over the pamphlet, and then pulled out a pen to write down his information on the order form. Huh. I guess John Marcone had a sweet tooth. Or maybe he was just being polite. I tried to see how much he was ordering, because I knew full well he could afford to not skimp out on my daughter, but the road required most of my attention. I got my answer, though, when he passed the papers back to her.

Maggie gasped. “Thank you, Mr. Marcone! Dad, he ordered enough for me to get all the prizes!”

My jaw might have fallen open as Marcone gave my daughter a gentle smile. “You’re very welcome, Miss Maggie.”

‘Three hundred?!’ I mouthed as Marcone’s gaze passed over me again.

The corners of his lips ticked up in amusement. “I’m sure my employees will appreciate it,” he said smoothly.

I treated myself to the mental picture of the mob boss passing out candy bars to his criminal empire like an adult handing out candy to trick-or-treaters. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. 

“What’s so funny, Dad?” Maggie asked curiously. 

“Oh, I’m just imagining Marcone handing out candy at his… health club.” He did technically own a health club, and it explained the hilarity, at least. Marcone got what I was really laughing at, and he chuckled as well.

“Harry, I think you should consider your options,” Molly’s voice suddenly echoed back to me. Yeah, okay, maybe the grasshopper had a point. Marcone could and would take care of my daughter, and I couldn’t discount that.

I turned into the Burger King parking lot and Marcone frowned. “What are we doing here?”

“It’s Burger King Friday,” Maggie said, still hesitant, but a little more confident now that Marcone had contributed over $500 to her fundraiser. And more importantly, she seemed distracted from her worries about vampires as she contemplated the prizes she would be receiving. Dammit, I owed him for that.

“Of course it is,” Marcone murmured, glaring at me through narrowed eyes.

I returned the look with a smile. “What do you want? My treat.”

We went through the drive-thru, since time was a-ticking, and I got us all dinner. Then I dropped Maggie off at the Carpenter’s, thanking Michael profusely for being able to watch her on such short notice. Honestly though, he was used to it. Bad guys don’t typically call ahead to schedule.

When I got back to the car, I was considering thanking Marcone for his efforts in cheering Maggie up, but he spoke before I could force the words out.

“How is Mr. Carpenter?” he asked, his eyes on the door that Michael had recently disappeared inside, his expression unreadable.

I stiffened, my gratitude evaporating. “Why do you want to know?” I hissed dangerously, not about to give a freaking Denarian information about a former Knight of the Cross. No matter how harmless the information may seem.

He arched an eyebrow at me. “Because he saved my life, and ended up crippled in the process,” he said calmly. “I still owe him for that.”

The fight drained out of me, my shoulders relaxing as I put the car into gear. I hadn’t thought about that. And that reasoning tracked with what I knew of Marcone, so I decided to go ahead and answer. “He’s doing good. He’s recovered a lot of function, and… he’s able to spend more time with his family. Be world’s best dad.”

Marcone nodded. “Good. I attempted to pay for his medical bills, but they wouldn’t allow it.”

I smiled as I pictured Charity Carpenter putting Marcone in his place. She could do it, I had no doubts. “Sounds about right.”

We were silent for a couple minutes as I drove. It was oddly comfortable.

“So. 300 candy bars?” I eventually asked with a wry grin. “I thought you didn’t do charity.”

“I don’t, but it’s not that much in the grand scheme of things. And it seemed like she could use it.”

I looked over at him as I came to a stoplight, my brows furrowed in concern. “Hey, this isn’t gonna be a thing, right? Where you hold over my head that you donated to my daughter’s fundraiser, so I owe you now?”

He met my eyes with a level gaze. “I would never,” he said firmly, “use anything to do with Maggie against you.”

I nodded as I turned my attention back to the road. I believed him. “Good.”

“She’s been through a lot,” he acknowledged after a few moments.

“Too much,” I nearly snarled, remembering the fear in her voice at the thought of there being vampires in town. 

“You mentioned the Red Court…. I suppose that explains a few things.”

I grunted in assent. At least I’d sent a pretty clear message: Mess with my daughter, and I’ll commit genocide, if I have to.

I could see Marcone’s lips curling up into a smile. “You destroyed an entire species to protect your daughter,” he echoed my thoughts. “Perhaps Mr. Carpenter has some competition for world’s best dad.”

I blinked at that, a warm feeling twisting in my gut at the notion before it was quickly doused again. No, world’s best dad wouldn’t find himself in a position to expose his daughter to the very creatures that had traumatized her. Wouldn’t be marrying into a family of said creatures. If I did go with Lara, how was Maggie going to respond to that? I shuddered to think.

But I did have another option. Another option that happened to be sitting beside me at this very moment, and who had just successfully made my daughter smile. Maybe…

“Dresden?” Marcone pulled me from my thoughts, his tone making me think it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get my attention.

“Hm?” I asked innocently.

“I asked if you had something suitable to wear this evening?”

“Oh, um…” See, the thing was, it seemed like anytime I had to dress up for something, disaster struck. So, anytime I got a nice suit or tux or whatever - what was even the difference, anyway - it never ended up making it through the evening. “What’s the dress code?” Maybe Walmart-chic was all the rage right now. Only minus the chic. 

The look that Marcone gave me was full of disdain for my wardrobe, which frankly, was completely uncalled for. My t-shirt - which had the letters ‘Um’ in a box and the label ‘The Element of Confusion’ beneath it - was very stylish. “Turn right here. I know somewhere we can get you something last-minute.”

“And how much will that cost me?” I asked a bit nervously. I’d mentioned that I had to spend most of my money furnishing my castle, right? And I swear, I’m not as pretentious as that sentence made me sound.

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Dresden. I agreed to get you into the Art Institute, and that means ensuring you are dressed appropriately. I’ll handle it.”

I grimaced. I did not like the idea of Marcone buying me clothes, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice right now. There was a lot of that going around.

Chapter Text

Marcone ended up taking me to his personal tailor, because of course he had one of those, and it was a surreal experience being so catered to. And not in a good way. The guy seemed ready to bend over backwards for me just because he thought I was dating Marcone, and talk about doubly uncomfortable. 

At least he was efficient. The whole ordeal only lasted half an hour before he found a tux that would fit my tall frame well enough. He’d make the necessary adjustments, and we’d be able to pick it up on our way to the Art Institute tonight, along with the one he’d already been working on for Marcone. I had a feeling that if I’d just come in off the street, there’d be no way I’d be able to get that kind of turnaround, but I got the distinct impression that this tailor would move heaven and hell to avoid disappointing John Marcone. The guy didn’t even ask us for money. For my own peace of mind, I assumed Marcone had a tab.

After we were done, I decided to drive by the Art Institute to get a lay of the land. It was a large, historic building that had managed to survive the brunt of the damage inflicted on the city. I wanted to say that that was a testament to the stability of old architecture versus newer builds, but honestly, I knew it was just luck that it hadn’t been in Ethniu’s path. There were two entrances: the large, grand entrance on Michigan Avenue and the secondary, modern entrance on Monroe, which posed more risk for bottle-necking. Note, if it comes to people running for their lives, try to encourage them to run for the main entrance. The idea was to get them out before anything went down, of course, but things didn’t always go according to plan.

“Where is this thing taking place?” I asked as I eyed one of the lion statues flanking the stairs of the main entrance. There was no notable sign that it had once been possessed by a Spirit of Intellect, but a huge, bronze lion flying straight for your head leaves a pretty distinct impression on you, if not on the statue itself.

“The Chicago Stock Exchange Trading Room,” Marcone answered. “It’s on the other side of the building.”

Of course it was. “You’re sure you can get everyone out?” I asked tensely. Hey, normally I found it very easy to motivate crowds of people to get away from me, but I had to spring the trap. And if we evacuated before that, it would kind of defeat the effectiveness of setting a trap in the first place. So, Marcone would handle evacuation, while I played the always fun roll of bait.

“I’m certain,” he said confidently. “And I’ll do it without causing a panic,” he added with a pointed look in my direction.

“Panic gets attention,” I pointed out defensively, even if I would prefer to use just about any other method. I wasn’t about to tell him that, though.

Marcone rolled his eyes. “So will hexing the lights and sound equipment. Which will prompt evacuation procedures in an orderly fashion.”

I glared ahead and grumbled under my breath. Something about Marcone just casually throwing out the idea of him hexing technology made me irrationally… jealous. I mean, sure, the way magic interacts with technology could be awfully inconvenient at times, but it was my schtick, dammit. Marcone being able to do magic just wasn’t fair.

“There are some rooms toward the front that would probably be the best place to lure her,” Marcone continued, ignoring my resentment. “It will create enough distance to minimize the risk of your… destructive tendencies.”

“Or of your incompetence,” I snapped back.

He arched an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Really, Dresden?”

“Competent wizards don’t trap themselves underwater when trying to avoid drowning,” I pointed out as I pulled away from the curb, reintegrating with the traffic on Michigan Avenue.

Marcone was barely holding back his amusement at my obvious bitterness. “I don’t really think you want me to list all your actions that bring into question your competence.”

“Oh, you’d be dead if it wasn’t for me!”

“Again, you are the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Oh yeah, and what are we calling that crappy teacup deathtrap?” I threw back.

And that was apparently the breaking point. Marcone started laughing.

I laughed, too. Not with him. At him. Just to be clear. 

*

Marcone and I finalized our plan, then dutifully ignored each other until it was time to pick up our clothes and proceed to the main event.

“I hope you realize, this tux doesn’t have a high likelihood of surviving the evening,” I warned as I came out of the dressing room, straightening my jacket.

Marcone looked up from where he was leaning against the wall waiting for me. My own tuxedo was pretty simple, due partially to the short notice. Black jacket, white shirt, bowtie - it fit well, and I’m sure if you were an expert on such things, you’d be able to tell it was expensive, but it wasn’t anything special. 

Marcone’s tuxedo looked like it had been custom made just for him - which, I reminded myself, it probably had been. It was a dark grey material that almost looked black until it caught the light just right, and the double breasted jacket accentuated his form. The only splotches of color were in a silk pocket square and a matching bowtie, both in a shade of green that complimented his eyes. I hated to admit it, but he looked good.

“A pity,” Marcone said as his eyes flicked over me, just slow enough to make me squirm. “You really should put more effort into your appearance, Dresden,” he continued as he unfolded a piece of fabric he’d been holding. “You could leave quite the impression.”

“I don’t need fancy clothes to leave an impression, scumbag,” I muttered bitterly.

“Hm,” he hummed skeptically before taking a step forward into my personal space. I almost recoiled before he grabbed hold of the front of my jacket and slid the piece of fabric he’d been holding into my chest pocket. I blinked down at it and realized it was a pocket square that perfectly matched his own. Right. Because I was his date.

My eyes might have been just slightly wider than normal as they moved back to his face, where I found him looking at me, his own expression unreadable. “Let’s go,” he said, stepping away.

I nodded once, not liking the sensation his touch left on me. I shook it off and followed after him.

*

Marcone, party of 2, was among the first few attendees to arrive at the Art Institute. The Chicago Stock Exchange Trading Room was designed to be reminiscent of the original Chicago Stock Exchange from 1894, with many sections of the original building being repurposed. It was a beautiful room, opulent and out of its time. Tonight it was set up with a handful of banquet tables and hightops, a buffet table full of hors d'oeuvres to the side, and the center of the room clear to allow space to dance to the 5-piece band that stood to the side of the old podium. 

I made a beeline to the snack table. What? It’d been a few hours since Burger King, and I was a big guy.

While I loaded up my plate, Marcone made small talk with a middle-aged couple, who apparently owned a good chunk of land in Chicago and the surrounding area.

“If property values don’t go up,” the larger man was saying severely as I wandered back over to them. “It won’t just be us suffering.”

“Tell me about it,” I mumbled through a mouthful of bacon wrapped shrimp.

Marcone’s eyes flickered to me irritably, then he took a calming breath. “Mr. and Mrs. Bishop, this is my date, Harry Dresden. Harry, please meet Taylor and Colleen Bishop, who I have had the pleasure of doing business with in the past.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dresden,” Colleen said politely, extending her hand. “Do you work in real estate?”

“Nope.” I wiped my hand off on my expensive pants before shaking her hand. She was a petite woman with a kind face and her dark hair in an elaborate updo. And I got the distinct impression that despite her soft appearance, she was as sharp as they come.

“What do you do?” Taylor asked cordially. He didn’t offer me his hand to shake, and I noticed that his eyes were almost constantly moving around the room, small and beady in his round face. 

“I’m a wizard,” I answered matter-of-factly.

Anxious-Taylor’s eyes fixed on me, clearly trying to judge if I was cracking a joke or not. I just smiled.

“It was good to see you again,” Marcone cut in smoothly. “If you’ll excuse us.” He brought his hand to my back to navigate me to the outskirts of the crowd, speaking to me in a low voice as soon as we were out of earshot of the couple. “Keep in mind that if you tarnish my reputation while I’m in the act of doing Winter a favor, I will consider it a personal slight.”

Well, crap. I should have thought about that. Damaging an ally’s reputation while representing Winter would damage Mab’s reputation as well. And if I damaged Mab’s reputation, I’d be praying for death. And speaking with my mouth full and wiping grease on my pants probably wasn’t becoming of Gentleman John Marcone’s date. Not to mention talking about being a wizard. People might think Marcone had lost it.

I nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure your reputation as a criminal scumbag is safe,” I said brightly before shaking off his hand. “And cut that out.”

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t press the subject.

The Arithi had yet to arrive, so Marcone and I went through the motions of being normal attendees. Well, I went through the motions; I guess he actually was a normal attendee. He stopped to talk to many of the rich and affluent of Chicago, while I worked on my plate. I just made sure to swallow my mouthfuls before he introduced me to someone new.

I got some interesting reactions. A lot of raised eyebrows, a few double-takes. Not surprising, really. I was tall, scarred, and lanky, and while my tux may have been tailored to fit, I didn’t look at home in it. I was not the kind of person you’d expect to see on the arm of the most powerful man in Chicago. And that was without even touching on the fact that I was pretty sure Marcone was straight.

“We should dance,” Marcone muttered as I passed my now empty plate off to a waiter that was circling the room. We’d been there for about half an hour now, and still no Arithi.

“Wh- what?” I spluttered incredulously.

He gave me an exasperated look. “We’ll be able to move around and scan the room while blending in with the others on the dance floor.”

“Oh…” I swallowed. Dancing with John Marcone was not something that especially appealed to me. Actually, the very idea was mildly terrifying. But you don’t show predators fear. “Fine.”

I let the mob boss escort me to the section in the middle of the room that had been carved out for dancing. I reluctantly took his hand, letting my other hand fall to his shoulder, and we began to move to the music. We were definitely getting some looks.

“With your reputation,” I started carefully, my voice pitched low to be just between us. “You don’t have a problem with people thinking you’re dating a guy, right?” Because if the asshole gave me the cover of his date, only to turn around and have a problem with it when rumors started going around….

“I wouldn’t have brought you as my date, if I did,” he assured me nonchalantly. “I don’t have a problem with people knowing my sexuality.”

I blinked rapidly. “Oh. Um, you…?”

He arched an eyebrow at me as I floundered. 

“I’ve just only seen you with women,” I said defensively. 

“Yes. Emotions can make things complicated, for a man in my position,” he explained easily. “I thought it best to only pursue relations that have no chance of growing into anything. So, I stick to women.”

“Wait, so… you don’t even like women?” No wonder the guy had so much self-control around Lara.

His lips quirked up in amusement. “Like that? Not particularly, no.”

“Wow, that’s….” I shook my head. “That’s really sad, Marcone.”

The amusement vanished from his face and he just stared at me, his face carefully blank.

“I mean, it is,” I continued, actually feeling a little bad for the guy. “You’re cutting off any chance you have to form a real connection with someone, all because you’re scared of what it would mean to have feelings. That’s down-right depressing.”

“Yes, because your love life is so much better,” he said coolly.

Ouch. Okay, point there. I hadn’t dated in a while. The last person I’d been with, I’d found out was only with me because someone was tampering with her mind. It left a bad taste in my mouth. But at least I was willing to date. I was willing to form those connections. And not limiting myself to the gender I wasn’t attracted to.

I wondered what that would be like, to start only dating men. And not for the first time, I wondered if it would be all that different for me. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, I like women. I like women a lot. But every once in a while, I’d notice a guy that left me feeling… confused. Like, what was the difference between knowing a guy was attractive and being attracted to him? I knew and understood what that line was with women, but were there men on the other side of that line for me, too? And if so, was I ready to open that can of worms?

It wasn’t that I found the thought disturbing, so much as I found it disturbing that I might have gone the first 40 years of my life oblivious to my attraction for an entire gender. Which was why I’d gotten into the habit of pushing my thoughts away when the questions arose. But… maybe ignorance isn’t bliss, and I should try to get to the bottom of it. Before I went 40 more years in the dark, cutting off a chance of connection, letting guys pass me by that I could end up liking, much like Marcone was. So, I decided to do a thought experiment.

I blocked out the knowledge of who I was dancing with, instead just focusing on the fact that it was a man. The hand that I was holding was larger than I was used to, rough, but… not unpleasant. The arm around my waist was strong and comforting, and I liked that it was able to support me. I adjusted my hand on his shoulder, appreciating the feel as I relaxed into the hold a bit more. Then I looked down to meet his eyes and remembered why exactly this thought experiment was a Bad Idea.

Marcone was an attractive man. I’d noticed as much the first time I met the guy. Hell, he’d recently called me out in a locker room for openly staring at him as he got dressed. If I was into guys (And really, was it even an ‘if’ at this point?), Marcone would go right on the list of Dangerously Hot Villains I Am Not Allowed to Sleep With No Matter What My Libido Says.

The song changed to a slower number and Marcone pulled me just a touch closer. And dammit, I was still staring down into faded-dollar-bill eyes that were looking up at me curiously.

“What are you thinking, Dresden?” he murmured, searching my eyes for some clue as to my thoughts. I hoped he didn’t find any. 

I jerked my gaze away. “Oh, uh…” I cleared my throat. “Just… going over the plan.” The words spilled out too quickly, my voice notably higher, and I cringed internally.

“I see,” he hummed skeptically. “Well, that’s good, because she’s here.”

I looked in the direction he nodded to see a woman who was beautiful in that way that only the Sidhe could be. She wore a deep purple velvet dress that contrasted nicely with her milky white skin, and her silvery blond hair fell in tight curls to her shoulders. She caused a stir where she walked as people turned to look at her, and if they noticed that her dark eyes were the same color as her dress, they didn’t seem to care. Honestly, I doubt many of them noticed in the first place, given the plunging neckline of the dress that offered a nice alternative to look at.

I turned back to Marcone with a nod, glad for the excuse to drop my hands. “Let’s go spring the trap.”

Chapter Text

I pulled up a veil to help us slip out of the ballroom unnoticed. It wasn’t spectacular, but we were surrounded by people focused on having a good time, so it didn’t need to be. With the event contained to the East side of the building, it was no problem to navigate to the front ticket area off Michigan Avenue, where hopefully there would be less chance of me destroying priceless works of art and we could avoid civilians being caught in the crossfire. Once there, I got to work.

Marcone helped to move things out of the way so that I could draw a chalk circle on the floor. I would’ve preferred working with a medium that wouldn’t be visible, but I was limited, and thankfully the lighter flooring meant that the circle wasn’t terribly obvious.

All in all, it was a pretty quick trap to set up. With the circle complete, I pulled out the bait and set it in the center with a nod to Marcone. “Be quick.” I could lead Arithi to the trap just fine - it was getting her to step into it that I was worried about. And there I might end up needing backup.

“Do try not to damage the tux,” he suggested wryly before disappearing behind a veil that I refused to admit was better than mine.

I rolled my eyes as I unbuttoned the jacket of said tux to retrieve my blasting rod hidden beneath. I gave Marcone a couple minutes’ head start, then I began.

I stood on the back edge of the circle, my head down, and focused on the green crystal in the center. It was from Demonreach - it wasn’t a whole crystal that could be used to entomb someone beneath the surface of the island, just a fragment. But it had power. And with me focusing on it, amplifying its power throughout the building, there was no way the Arithi wouldn’t feel it. And if she had any interest in power and in controlling the people with it, she would come. A being like her, she wouldn’t be able to resist.

So, I waited.

I didn’t have to wait long. In just a few minutes, the gorgeous Sidhe turned the corner. And here’s the thing about Fae beauty. Once you get up close to it, you realize how inhuman it is - features too sharp, too perfect, and something in your instincts just screams at you that it’s wrong. Arithi was no less beautiful up close, but so was an icicle, reflecting rainbows of light as it falls straight for your eye.

I kept my head down and I heard her steps slow as she assessed the scene before her - one sharp-dressed rando conducting some sort of ritual with a glowing, green crystal. A bit out of place, sure, but Sidhe rarely understood the things humans did.

“Lost sheep,” she murmured, her voice melodic. “The party is on the other side of the building.”

At that, I looked up. I saw it in her eyes as she quickly reassessed the situation - not a rando, the Winter Knight. Danger. Her eyes narrowed and I smiled. “Seems like you’re the one who’s lost.”

“Knight,” she acknowledged, her voice becoming clipped and cold. “Surely you have more important things to be doing right now.” She came to a stop on the other side of the circle, her eyes flickering down to it then back up again. Drat. “Or is the Queen seriously sending her lapdog to parties at a time like this?”

“Oh, come on, cupcake, you’ve been at this far longer than I’ve been.” I thought fast as I spoke, surreptitiously shaking out my shield bracelet. “It’s about boosting morale.”

Anger washed over her features, her eyes flashing. Wow, I hadn’t even started trying to get her worked up yet. “And who exactly are you boosting the morale of, Knight? There’s no one here but the enemy.”

Now my eyes narrowed. “Humanity is not the enemy,” I said, my voice hard. 

“As you said, cupcake, I’ve been at this longer.” She began pacing around the side of the circle as she spoke. “I have watched humanity for tens of thousands of years and I know how they respond to their nightmares. Make no mistake, Knight, they are the enemy. And our only hope is for them to fight amongst themselves until they are all destroyed.” Her smile was as sharp as a razer blade. “And then there will be no use for a mortal Knight.”

I raised my shield just in time before she leapt at me, nails sharp enough to be considered claws grasping towards my throat. The shield flashed green-gold where she collided, and I twisted, angling the shield so that she would ricochet off it into the circle. It half-worked. I changed her trajectory, but she fell into a roll that carried her over top of the circle and off to my left, where she took the opening to swing a leg at me beneath my shield.

The impact was staggering, at odds with the amount of force it had looked like was behind the kick. I dropped my shield and caught myself on the wall before I could fall, raising my blasting rod out in front of me.

“Ventus fulmino!” I thundered, just as Arithi was regaining her footing. The gust of wind hit her hard, wreaking havoc on her picture-perfect curls, and sending her stumbling back towards the circle.

The problem was, that also brought her closer to me. Instead of fighting the wind, she used it to get in range again, this time succeeding in digging one of her clawed hands into my neck.

I felt the TV static sensation of the Winter Mantle covering the pain as I grabbed for her wrist, attempting to pull her off of me. I had a split-second to see her second hand coming towards me before a violet thread of light suddenly encircled her wrist, followed by a second thread wrapping around her throat.

“Ha!” I gasped as she released her hold on me to pull desperately at the cord of light that was strangling her, while still more reached out for her. There was just something so satisfying about seeing an enemy subjected to something that had been used against me in the past, and that spell was a bitch. I could tell she was gathering her own energy, trying to disrupt the spell, but I knew from experience that each thread was on a different wavelength, and it would take time for her to destroy all of them. Time that she no longer had.

Arithi was tugged back into the circle, allowing me to see Marcone on the other side, manipulating the threads with his hands while a matching pair of violet eyes glowed above his own.

“Took you long enough,” I grumbled because I couldn’t thank him on principle. Regaining my balance now that I no longer had a crazed faerie hanging off my neck, I began gathering my will to close the circle.

Before I could manage it, though, Arithi got her wrist free, and apparently decided that that was enough. Her arms shot out in either direction, extending longer than was natural and a manic smile spread over her face, despite Namshiel’s spell still strangling her. She caught a handful of the front of my shirt, yanking me forward. I had a moment to realize that she had grabbed Marcone with her other hand, and then the very room disappeared from around me.

I’ve dealt with psychic attacks before. I’d gotten decent at fighting them off. But this wasn’t a psychic attack, so much as it was a psychic manifestation. It was almost like a soulgaze in the way that once it started, there was no stopping it, and it came with the inherent understanding that what I was seeing was the absolute truth. And I saw what John Marcone truly wanted of me.

I stumbled in shock as I returned to reality, and I might have fallen if Marcone hadn’t caught me. 

I jerked back as though his touch burned me, staring at him with wide eyes that might have looked a touch crazed given what I had just seen. What the actual fuck?!

Marcone frowned at me, questions clearly warring behind his eyes, but he just said, “She’s getting away.”

I nodded jerkily, sucking in a breath as I pulled myself together. Right, capture rogue faerie now, deal with… that… later.

Marcone and I fell into step beside each other as we sprinted from the ticket area, out to the entrance.

“Arithi!” I shouted, drawing her up short before she could exit the building.

She whirled on us, her eyes going wide. “What?!” she snarled. “You should be fighting each other!”

“Well, that’s the thing about humanity, cupcake,” I said through a bitter smile. “We’re full of surprises.”

“I showed you the truth!”

“Yes,” Marcone said calmly. “And you very clearly don’t know what that truth is.”

I vaguely wondered what exactly Marcone had seen. It clearly wasn’t something that warranted fighting me over, which is what I might have expected. And he’d seemed confused when we came out of it. I couldn’t imagine what would cause that. As far as I knew, I just wanted nothing to do with the guy, but he wouldn’t find that surprising. Okay, yeah, so I’m not the most in touch with myself. I have other things to deal with.

“Yeah, talk about a serious oversight,” I chimed in conversationally, letting my hands fall behind my back. “Hey, Marcone, do you think we should just let her walk? I mean, since she’s such a crappy judge of people, maybe she’ll end up bringing people closer together. Could be good for humanity.”

“Hmm,” Marcone mused thoughtfully, allowing himself a small smile. “It’s definitely worth consideration. She hardly seems worth it.”

“You dare?!” Arithi shrieked furiously. “I have been sowing strife between allies since before Mab was even born. I reveal what mortals seek to keep in the dark, I have made brothers take up arms against each other, I have brought down empires! And I will ensure humanity falls before they come for us!”

“Eh, I don’t know…” I shrugged as I slid a few steps away from Marcone, bringing my hands out in front of me, palms up. “You seem to be losing your touch. I mean you just tried to pit the most conniving scumbag in Chicago against someone who’s been threatening to take him down for years. And you failed. This should’ve been a slam-dunk!” 

She paced towards me, positively fuming by this point. And that was the advantage to fighting older creatures like the Arithi. We talk about how people over 60 are set in their ways. Well, how do you think it is for people over 60,000? Arithi had a technique that had worked for her her entire life, and it had just failed. And now not only did she not know what to do, but she was pissed that she was having to change up her methods. So, she wasn’t thinking clearly. And she wasn’t paying attention.

“You are a child!” she hiss vehemently. 

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” I admitted. “But come on! Adults should be able to play, too. Have you ever been on a slip n’ slide?”

She hesitated in her advance, incredulity mixing with her fury. “A what?”  

A wide smile spread across my face. “A slip n’ slide! Arctis!” I reached out and coated the ground between Arithi and the circle in a thin, slippery sheet of ice.

Simultaneously, Marcone finished the spell that he’d been working on and teleported behind her, immediately releasing a kinetic wave that was the culmination of all of my force rings, which I had passed off to him while Arithi had been ranting.

The Sidhe shrieked as her feet went out from under her, and she slid along the icy slip n’ slide I had made until she landed in a heap in the circle. I quickly gathered my will and brought the circle up around her, effectively trapping her inside.

I let out a giant breath of relief, feeling my shoulders sag. I was glad I’d included a sound barrier in the circle because Arithi was already screaming.

“Dresden,” Marcone spoke from directly behind me, and I had to fight not to jump out of my skin. He must have teleported back over. Show-off.

Before I could turn around, I felt a pressure on my neck. Immediately, I snapped my hand up and grabbed Marcone’s wrist in a vice grip that threatened to break bone. I used the momentum to spin around, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re bleeding,” he snapped, twitching his fingers to indicate the cloth he had apparently just pressed to my neck, judging from the splotches of my blood on it.

My eyes narrowed in suspicion and I swiftly grabbed the cloth from his hand. I didn’t even want to think about what he would be able to do if he got some of my blood. Before today, I would have assumed he’d use it to kill me, but…. I shook my head.

“I’ll take that.” I released his wrist and backed away a step, bringing the cloth back up to my neck, glaring at him the entire time. “And I’ll take my rings back,” I added, holding out my free hand expectantly.

He gave an irritated sigh, but deposited the rings into my hand. I counted them, and once satisfied that he didn’t steal any, I pocketed them and paced away. I walked around the circle, pausing in front of the wall to check for any blood splatter, deliberately ignoring the screaming Arithi as I did so. It wasn’t too bad - just a few flecks that I easily wiped up. Curious, I checked the collar of my tux. Yep, it was ripped.

And then another thought occurred to me and I quickly checked my pockets. I hadn’t been keeping a close eye on all the wires of Namshiel’s strangler spell, and the last time he’d pulled that, my pockets had gotten lighter. Thankfully, nothing seemed to be missing.

When I turned around, I saw Marcone standing at the corner of the room, watching me. I glared.

“We need to talk about what we saw,” he said evenly.

The image suddenly came back to me of Marcone and me smiling, Marcone and me kissing, Marcone and me in bed. I shook my head to dislodge it, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not talking about that.” The raw panic that slipped into my voice was borderline embarrassing.

He arched an eyebrow at me. “ Mr. Dresden, if you could table your shock or horror, or whatever it is at the fact that I want you. I promise you, it is not nearly as shocking as what I saw from you.” 

I blinked. At the fact that I want you…. He knew more or less exactly what I’d seen of his desires. Which meant it was a desire that he was well aware of. And at his words, I had even less of an idea of what he might’ve seen from me. That just wasn’t fair

Marcone apparently got tired of waiting for me to catch up and began walking across the room towards me. “Dresden, do you want to explain to me why you want to marry me?”

Chapter Text

Marcone and I were seated on a bench in the entrance to the Art Institute, while we waited for the Winter envoy to arrive to pick up the Arithi. It was dark and quiet and, even though I knew there was an angry Sidhe just behind the wall to my back, it felt like Marcone and I were utterly alone. It didn’t make this any easier.

I licked my lips, my leg bouncing nervously.

“Any day now,” Marcone sighed, his usual patience clearly eluding him.

“Hey, I told you, it’s complicated,” I snapped. “Let me figure out how to start.”

“The beginning seems a good place,” he bit off tersely. 

I rolled my eyes. “Well, in the beginning, I became Winter Knight, Ethniu turned up and wreaked havoc on Chicago, and tensions skyrocketed throughout the Accorded nations.”

“Yes, thank you, I was there,” he said dryly. “And I fail to see what this has anything to do with you wanting to marry me.”

“I don’t want to marry you,” I protested automatically.

“Clearly, you do.”

I sighed heavily. Dammit, I didn’t want to be having this conversation right now. I hadn’t even realized I’d made the decision to try for marrying Marcone instead of Lara until he’d said something. But I had. I’d made my decision the second Maggie said that she was afraid of vampires in town and Marcone distracted her from her fear. I couldn’t subject her to the White Court. And Marcone, despite all his faults, would look out for her.

Of course, something that I’d been avoiding thinking about until this moment, was this was all contingent on Marcone agreeing to marry me. Lara had asked for an alliance with Winter. Marcone hadn’t. So now I had to convince him that it was in his best interests to marry me, and I didn’t think I had ever stooped so low.

Hey, you know he wants you, some voice in the back of my head whispered. 

Yeah, and I also know he avoids entanglements with people he’s attracted to, I shot back at myself. 

Bet you could change his mind. My id sucks.

“Lara asked for an alliance with Winter,” I explained, letting my head rock back against the wall behind me. “Before everything went down. Mab wasn’t sure she was interested, but after everything, she thinks a strong alliance will go a long way in getting through… everything right now. Both in appearance and in actuality. So, obviously that means she has to marry me off.”

I laughed bitterly before continuing, pointedly not looking over at the man beside me. “I’ve been trying to find a way out of it, but it’s not looking good. So, Molly asked for alternatives. She gave me one.”

Now I did look over to him. He was watching me with a slight frown and a furrowed brow. “And you’d prefer me?” he asked skeptically.

“I’ve gone back and forth,” I admitted with a shrug. “But…” I struggled for the words.

“Maggie,” Marcone supplied softly, putting the pieces together. 

I nodded, staring at the ground. “What kind of a father would I be if I assured her vampires couldn’t get to her, and then turned around and married one?” I asked through a slightly choked voice.

“One without good options.”

I snorted. “You can say that again.” I shook my head angrily. But focusing on the unfairness of my situation wouldn’t get me what I needed out of this conversation. I could go all ‘woe is me’ later. Right now, I needed to appeal to what Marcone wanted. 

I shoved down the thought of one thing I knew Marcone wanted, and continued. “An alliance with Winter could be good for you. You know there’s plenty who didn’t take you seriously when you became a signatory, but last summer, you made them reconsider. It’d be a good time to follow up with a statement of who’s in your corner. Erase any last doubt.” And become that much more powerful. I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat. 

“It would be a good move, politically speaking,” he acknowledged. “Though stealing an alliance from another accorded member could be touchy.”

“Lara was thrown a curveball with this marriage, too. She doesn’t want it,” I said confidently. It’d been pretty obvious from her reaction to Mab’s declaration. “And if anyone has caught wind of it, they’d understand. Anyone can see the advantage of Winter choosing to ally with the mortal signatory, in light of everything that happened last summer.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said slowly. “There are many who think like the Arithi, that humanity is a ticking time bomb to be snuffed out before war is declared.”

I grimaced, knowing he was right and hating it. “All the more reason for you to boast powerful allies.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “I do not need to hide behind the skirt of Winter.”

“I’m not saying you do,” I protested in exasperation. Stupid Marcone and his stupid pride. I twisted on the bench to face him more fully. “It’s an equal partnership, Marcone. Uniting Winter and Chicago.” Which, when phrased like that, even I almost saw the appeal. It was the next part that tripped me up. “You’d have access to Winter's wealth of resources, but as an equal bringing your own power to the table.”

He paused to consider that. Then suddenly he reached up to untie his bowtie, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

“What’re you…?” I spluttered, forcing my eyes away from the exposed skin. My brain unhelpfully provided me with a mental replay of what had followed him doing just that in the Arithi’s vision. And now that I was recovered from the absolute shock of it, it was harder to deny that I wasn’t also intrigued by what I had seen. Wasn’t a little tempted. Yeah, I think it was safe to say that I definitely wasn’t straight, and that I was ill-advisedly attracted to John Marcone. But I currently had enough to worry about without adding that to my list of problems, and thinking with my dick right now wouldn’t help anything.

Amusement danced in Marcone’s eyes as he pulled the delicate chain holding Namshiel’s coin off over his head. He wrapped it in the fabric of his tie and set it on the bench beside him. “I’ve heard enough from the peanut gallery,” he explained simply.

I laughed. I wondered what Namshiel had been saying. Surely he’d be in favor of the idea of his host gaining power, but I was pretty sure the Fallen still held a grudge against me after our first meeting. I was sure he had some interesting commentary on the situation. “You still have his shadow,” I pointed out.

Marcone shrugged. “He’s easier to block out.”

“I don’t know, man, the shadows are sneaky,” I said, remembering my time with Lash. “Better make sure your subconscious is on the same page.”

He frowned at me. “You seem rather knowledgeable on the subject.”

“Well, yeah.” I looked at him in surprise. “Wait, you seriously don’t know? I figured Namshiel would’ve told you by now.”

“The only thing he has said about you is that you have somehow gained the ability to wield soulfire.”

I grinned at that. “Yeah, I laid quite the smackdown on him. But… well, maybe Nic never told him,” I realized. Nicodemus hadn’t seemed particularly fond of the sorcerer, after all. He’d been one of Tessa’s crew. I supposed it made sense he wasn’t in on all the hot Denarian gossip. “After the business with the shroud, Nicodemus threw me Lasciel’s coin. I was an idiot and picked it up.”

Marcone was silent for a moment, and I assumed he was consulting Namshiel’s shadow on who exactly Lasciel was. I knew he got his answer when his eyebrows went up.

“I never fully took up the coin,” I quickly added. “But I had her shadow in my head for a few years before I had the good sense to get rid of it.” I cut off that train of thought before it could reach the conclusion I deliberately didn’t think about outside the safety of my wards.

“I see,” he mused thoughtfully. I could almost see him filing away the new information for later. “Interesting, but not what we were discussing.”

“Nope. Mawage. Mawage is what bwings us togethah today.” What? Pop culture references help my nerves. 

Marcone rolled his eyes. “As much as I appreciate The Princess Bride, you’re not making a good case for yourself, Dresden.”

I was pretty sure Marcone was one of the only people I mouthed off to that actually got my references, even if he didn’t appreciate them. “Are you seriously telling me that the power of the Winter Court behind you isn’t at least a little bit tempting?” I pressed.

“It’s extremely tempting,” he admitted matter-of-factly. “But I don’t simply give into temptation.” He reached out to pat the bundle of fabric beside him. “I need to make sure it’s the best decision. And as much as I respect Mab, I have reservations about tying myself in alliance to her.”

As much as it may be in my best interests to argue against that, he would be an idiot not to have reservations. And Marcone was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Mab was queen of wicked faeries and any kind of alliance with her should be treated like a loaded gun. One that could, at any moment, be turned back on you. “You’re not tying yourself to her, you’re tying yourself to me,” I said instead, ignoring how my stomach was squirming at saying those words. “You’d have complete agency.”

And maybe that was what Mab had meant when she’d said she couldn’t be the one to get married. Mab was an absolute, but in marriage there had to be give and take. That was physically impossible for her. She just was. And whoever married her would be molded to fit her, rather than the two of them shaping each other. That wasn’t an alliance, it was a nightmare. 

Marcone nodded. “I would need to know the terms of the alliance.”

I blinked. That sounded promising. Like he was interested. “Right. I’ll, uh… I’ll talk to Molly and have her get you the information.”

He studied my face carefully. “Have you truly thought this through, Dresden?” he asked softly. 

I swallowed thickly. “Yeah. I know how much I can trust you. And while it’s not much, I at least know where that line is. Not so much with Lara. And even if I could trust her with Maggie, there’s no guarantee she wouldn’t inadvertently expose her to other vampires I can’t trust. I know that you would never allow a situation that would put my daughter in harm’s way.”

“That’s true,” he confirmed. “But you said I would have use of Winter’s resources. I assume that would include the Winter Knight.” 

I cringed. Yeah, I’d been trying not to think about that. “Within reason,” I muttered reluctantly.

“Oh?” He arched an eyebrow. “And what exactly is ‘within reason’?”

I fixed him with a glare. “You can’t just use me willy-nilly.” I immediately regretted my choice of words. I didn’t need to think about how Marcone would like to ‘use me’. “But you could call on me to help with your duties as the Baron of Chicago,” I hastened to continue, hoping he didn’t notice the faint blush on my cheeks.

“I suppose that’s fair,” he allowed before his gaze seemed to sharpen on me. “And what could I call on you for as my husband?” he asked deliberately.

I couldn’t help it. I recoiled at the question. Well, I didn’t know if it was the question, or if it was Marcone referring to me as his husband. It left me feeling extremely uncomfortable. “I, uh, well…” I stammered.

“This is what concerns me.” He motioned his hand towards me, encompassing my reaction, and I realized I had just failed some sort of test. “In this aspect, I believe you would be far more comfortable with Ms. Raith. Though you may claim to trust me more, for whatever reason, you certainly do not have us much disdain for her. You and me being married would be… problematic, at best.” He frowned as he said the last bit, as though the thought disappointed him. I was going to assume that was due to the allure of power rather than some deep desire to get married to me.

I sighed. The guy had a point - there was a reason I’d been so adverse to the idea of marrying him. We pressed each other’s buttons all too well. The only way I could argue was with the truth, as much as I really didn’t want to admit to it. “I also respect you more.” I forced my lips not to curl as I said the words. I really hated thinking well of him, let alone speaking it aloud. “And I… I would rather be married to someone I respect. To you.”

Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Are you okay after that?” he asked, mild amusement in his voice.

“Give me a minute to control the vomit,” I muttered. I exhaled slowly as I looked at him. “But it’s the truth.”

He nodded. “I know. You wouldn’t have said it, otherwise.” He paused to think about it for a minute, and I let him. “I would ask that you consider my reputation. You would need to be willing to appear publicly with me, otherwise it would reflect poorly on me. And should you publicly contest me, that would be even worse.”

That wasn’t something I’d thought about, but while I wasn’t exactly happy about being unable to oppose Marcone, it was a fair ask. And honestly, our marriage vows would probably tie my hands on that, too. For those who wield magic, oaths and vows carry very real power and can’t just be ignored. Deliberately causing harm to Marcone’s reputation would definitely go against that. 

“I managed that tonight, didn’t I?” I pointed out. “I can deal. As long as you’ll be willing to hear me out on the major issues.” He should have to honor me just as much as I would be honoring him, after all.

He considered that before nodding. “As you wish.”

That sounded dangerously close to an agreement. I sucked in a breath, my nerves running through me like electricity. “So, will you…” I cut myself off before I could finish the question. I was not asking him to marry me. “Will you form an alliance with Winter?”

Disappointment flashed in his eyes so quickly I wasn’t entirely certain I hadn’t imagined it. “I’ll need the details of the alliance,” he said evenly as he rose to his feet, picking up his bowtie and slipping Namshiel’s coin back over his head. “But I’ll consider it.”

I nodded as I also stood. “I’ll have Molly get you the details tomorrow.” I realized I was watching as he buttoned his shirt and I jerked my eyes back to his face. The corner of his lips were quirked up in quiet amusement.

“Excellent.” He looked over his shoulder as he secured his bowtie in place. “I believe your envoy has arrived.”

The Winter envoy swiftly collected the Arithi, and then it wasn’t long before one of Marcone’s drivers arrived to collect him. I told him I’d be in touch, then drove the Munstermobile back to the castle. I was almost home when it hit me.

There was a very real possibility that I was going to marry Gentleman John Marcone. Hell's bells, what was my life coming to?

Chapter Text

I called Molly first thing the next morning.

“I know, I know,” she immediately answered, sounding forlorn. “Mab wants to announce your engagement this week.”

Oh right. I’d been so caught up in everything else, I’d forgotten that she’d mentioned that when she’d been here. “Well, you better tell her to hold off,” I said. “I need you to get the details of the alliance to Marcone.”

Molly’s surprise was palpable, even through the phone. “You talked to him?”

“It kind of just… came up,” I admitted with a sigh. “But you were right. He’s the better option.” I still didn’t like it, but it was the truth. Every way you looked at it, Marcone was the obvious choice. The only reason I hadn’t seen it sooner was because I hadn’t wanted to.

“Woow,” she said, making the word two syllables. “Honestly, I never expected to hear you say that, Harry.”

“Me neither,” I muttered bitterly, running a hand over my face.

“So, he agreed.”

“It’s Marcone. He won’t agree until he’s read through all the details. Twice.” It was annoying, but it was something that, as a paranoid bastard myself, I respected about him. He was thorough. 

“I’ll talk to Mab,” she assured.

“Thanks, grasshopper.” 

“No problem,” she said brightly. “You have more sexual tension with him, anyway.”

“Wh- what?” I spluttered, feeling my face heating up and glad she couldn’t see it. “I do not have more sexual tension with Marcone than with Lara.” Even I couldn’t say I had none at this point, but still. Lara was a freaking succubus. 

“I’m an empath, Harry,” Molly reminded me impatiently. “Lara just wants to eat you. Marcone actually wants you.”

“La la la, I can’t hear you!” I sang obnoxiously. 

“Deny it all you want,” she laughed. “I’ll take care of getting the details to your future husband.” And with that, she hung up. 

I sighed, placing the phone back on its base. She was right, I knew. Marcone did want me. I’d seen it myself. But that didn’t mean I had to think about it.

I set to getting ready, and then went to pick up Maggie from the Carpenter’s. I swear, it was purely coincidental that I got there right around lunch time, and it would have been rude to turn down Charity’s offer to feed me. Definitely not intentional in the slightest. 

“Did you and Mr. Marcone stop the monster?” Maggie asked curiously after swallowing a bite of her sandwich.

I ignored the way both Michael and Charity looked at me at the namedrop. “Sure did, punkin,” I said with a grin. Sometimes I thought that as long as I remained a hero in my daughter’s eyes, I would be able to continue believing I was one. 

“You saw Marcone last night?” Michael asked with quiet interest. “How is he?”

I knew what he was really asking. Michael was one of the few people I’d informed of Namshiel’s presence in Marcone. He was a former Knight of the Cross, after all, and I’d wanted his advice on if I should just take the guy out now. I hadn’t been all that surprised when Michael advised me to just wait and watch, and offer guidance if I could (though I’d openly laughed at that last part). After all, it was what he had done when he’d been under the impression I’d gone full Denarian with Lasciel. We both knew Marcone’s will was strong, so we were operating under the hope that he was the same bad guy he’d always been, just with more power.

And now he was a bad guy that I was probably going to marry. 

“He seems to have a pretty good handle on things,” I answered carefully. I could go into more detail when our kids weren’t around.

Michael must have seen something on my face because he frowned slightly, but he nodded. “That’s good to hear.”

“He bought 300 candy bars from me for the school fundraiser!” Maggie added helpfully, and I couldn’t help but smile at the looks of shock on Michael and Charity’s faces. Even Amanda looked surprised. I guessed she was old enough now to have heard some things.

“Wow!” Little Harry - though he was getting less little everyday - exclaimed. “That’s enough for all the prizes!”

“How generous of him,” Charity commented, shooting me a curious look.

I shrugged. “He kinda got roped into picking Maggie up from school with me yesterday,” I explained sheepishly. I hoped they wouldn’t judge me too harshly for bringing the mob boss around my daughter, but I’d been low on options.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Hope asked, as though that was a perfectly logical question. 

I spluttered, feeling my face heating up. “No!” 

I mean, he wasn’t, technically. He might become my fiance any day now, but he wasn’t my boyfriend. But now Michael, Charity, and Amanda were all staring at me with wide eyes. Hope looked curious. Maggie thoughtful. Harry was more interested in his food. Yep, they’d named him right.  

“It’s okay if he is, dad,” Maggie said very seriously after a few seconds of mulling it over. “I liked him.”

I dropped my head to my hand, rubbing at my eyes. “Good. That’s… I’m glad,” I muttered. I’d have to explain this all to her soon enough. At least the part about getting married, if not the details of why. “But let’s talk about something else right now. How’re college applications going, Amanda?”

The eldest Carpenter child still at home didn’t give me any pushback, and the conversation mercifully turned away from Marcone. I should’ve known better than to think I got away from answering questions, though.

“Harry, could I have a word with you before you go?” Michael asked casually as we were all getting up from the table. 

I grimaced. “Sure.”

I left Maggie to play with Harry, Hope, and Mouse and followed Michael into the kitchen, where Charity was already cleaning up the remains of lunch.

“What’s up?” I asked innocently, leaning against the counter.

Charity rolled her eyes, but she looked vaguely amused.

“Harry, you know I would never judge you,” Michael reassured. “But what is going on between you and Marcone?”

I wanted the counter to open up and swallow me to get out of this conversation, but of course the one time I wanted something terrible to happen, it didn’t. Might as well bite the bullet. “We might be getting married,” the words tumbled out in a rush. 

Charity froze in the middle of washing a plate. Michael let out a breath as he slowly sank down into a chair behind him. They both seemed to be speechless.

Charity recovered first. “I thought you two didn’t get along?” 

“We don’t,” I admitted. “And technically, nothing’s set in stone yet. He still has to agree.” I sighed as my friends looked more bewildered by the second. “It’s Mab. She wants to make a powerful alliance through marriage, and Marcone is my best option.”

“If she wants to make the alliance, shouldn’t she be the one to get married?” Charity demanded dryly.

I smiled at her. Charity was someone I would forever be grateful to have in my corner. All the Carpenters were. “Unfortunately, things don’t work like that. She’s a Winter Queen, she can’t just get married.”

Something flickered in Charity’s eyes, and I immediately kicked myself. Her daughter was also a Queen of Winter, and while the thought of your little girl dating wasn’t always a fun one (believe me, I know), you also don’t want to think that she’ll never have a chance to find love like that. And while Charity was probably to some degree already aware of what I’d just said, she didn’t need the reminder.

“I’m-”

“You better not be opening your mouth to apologize, Harry,” she said sharply. “I’m perfectly alright, and you did nothing wrong. Besides, you’re not getting out of this conversation that easily. When do you expect to hear back from him?”

I rubbed at the back of my neck uncomfortably. “Molly’s supposed to be getting him the details of the alliance today. So… hopefully soon.”

“And you’re sure about this?” Michael asked seriously. There wasn’t any judgment in his voice, but I could feel myself getting defensive, anyway.

“I’m sure he’s my best choice,” I said, my voice taking on a bit of a growl. “My alternative is Lara, and I’m not subjecting Maggie to any more vampires.”

Michael nodded with understanding that didn’t entirely erase the concern in his eyes. “That’s a fair call to make. But you should consider what you’ll be exposing her to with Marcone, as well.”

“You think I haven’t?” I demanded, shaking my head. “I’ve been at war with myself over this for weeks! You can think I’m a terrible father for bringing him into her life - hell, maybe I am - but at least I know he won’t hurt her.”

“Harry,” Michael said firmly as he got to his feet and walked over to place a hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes. “You are not a terrible father. You are facing an impossible choice, and you’re choosing to marry a man you despise because you believe she will be safer. That is admirable.”

The fight drained out of me, leaving me with the fear and guilt that had been behind it. “But Namshiel,” I whispered in a choked voice. 

“You said Marcone has a handle on things?”

I nodded. “He doesn’t even wear it all the time.”

Michael smiled. “Then there is hope.”     

Everyone should have someone like Michael in their life. Even when the darkest of clouds loomed overhead, he could make the world that much brighter. And if a guy like him thought I was making the admirable choice, maybe there was hope for it turning out alright.  

I gave him a grateful nod, and he squeezed my shoulder reassuringly before stepping back. “Course, this is all contingent on him even agreeing to marry me,” I added ruefully. 

“From my understanding of him, this doesn’t seem like an opportunity he’d want to miss out on,” Charity offered. 

I shrugged. “Yeah, but he’s not taking this lightly. There’s always the chance he’ll decide I’m more trouble than it’s worth.”

She stared fiercely at my eyebrows. “Then you convince he’s wrong.”

Michael nodded in agreement. “I know this won’t be easy. Let us know if there’s anything that you need.” 

“Well, I might need a best man,” I laughed hollowly. I was joking, but… hell's bells, I really would need a best man, wouldn’t I? I was getting married.

I might have asked Thomas, but my brother was still trapped under Demonreach until Lara and I could find a cure for how his Hunger had cannibalized him. Damn, I wished I could talk to him right now. He’d probably laugh at me for getting myself into this situation, but I’d welcome that compared to how I last saw him.

Though, honestly… I probably would’ve chosen Murphy to stand beside me. She was my best friend. Had been there for me through so much. And she would’ve killed me if I’d let the fact that she was a woman stop her from standing next to me on my wedding day. 

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and I fought to keep them from spilling over. How could I do this without her? 

Michael’s smile was sympathetic, as though he could guess what I was thinking. “I would be honored.”

Chapter Text

“Hey, Maggie?” I asked cautiously as I sat on the couch in one of the front rooms that I’d made into a living room. Maggie was sprawled out on the floor in front of me with Mouse, looking over an I-Spy book. I wasn’t sure which of them were finding more of the items, but I thought Maggie probably had a slight advantage due to Mouse being color blind. “You really liked Marcone?”

She rolled over onto her stomach to look up at me, kicking her feet in the air. “Yeah. He was nice.”

I had to hold back a laugh at that. John Marcone - nice. I was pretty sure Maggie was the only person to have thought that about him. Instead I just nodded thoughtfully. “Good.”

She set the book on the ground and propped herself up with her elbows to look at me carefully. Mouse followed her lead, turning in a circle to sit down facing me sternly. What was this, an intervention?

“He’s more than someone you work with,” Maggie said confidently. Wise beyond her years, she was. 

“Yeah,” I admitted because there was no point in not. It would do more harm than good in the long run. “But… things are complicated. We need to figure some things out, and then I can tell you more. That okay?”

She thought about it, and then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Thanks, punkin.”

It was getting to the point of the evening where I needed to start thinking about dinner, when there was a knock at the door.

Maggie’s eyes went slightly wider as she snapped up from where she’d been using Mouse as a bean bag chair. She looked in the direction of the door, then at me. Mouse also sat up and looked towards the door. The rumble he made wasn’t exactly pleased, but wasn’t threatening, either. I trusted his judgment.

“I’ll go see who it is,” I said reassuringly as I got up. 

When I reached the door, I extended my senses. I didn’t think a demon was just going to knock on my front door, but you could never be too sure. When I didn’t feel any evil lurking, I opened the door. 

My senses were only slightly off. It was Marcone. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked in surprise. 

“Good to see you too, Mr. Dresden,” he greeted me coolly, shooting a pointed look over my shoulder, into the castle. 

I sighed and stepped to the side so that he could enter. I still wasn’t going to just invite him in. On principle.

As I shut the door behind him, I heard him say, “Hello again, Miss Maggie.”

I turned around to see Maggie peeking out behind the corner of the living room, Mouse right behind her. “Hi, Mr. Marcone,” she said shyly.

I gave her a soft smile. “Why don’t you and Mouse go to your room, and I’ll come get you when it’s time to figure out dinner.”

“Okay.” She turned to run downstairs, where both of our rooms were located. Mouse paused, giving Marcone a meaningful look, before he turned and followed after her. 

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked once it was just Marcone and myself. I wasn’t sure if it was a good sign he was here so soon, or a bad one, and my stomach was twisting uncomfortably. I was abruptly reminded of the fact that I needed him to agree to this, or else I’d be stuck with marrying Lara and bringing the White Court around my daughter. As much as I didn’t want to marry Marcone, I wasn’t sure I could handle it being off the table. 

“I’m fine, Mr. Dresden. Thank you,” he said calmly and professionally.

Yeah, that didn’t sound like someone who had shown up to accept a marriage proposal. I took a deep breath. “Well, I need one.”

I went down to the kitchen and pulled one of Mac’s darks out of the fridge. Just don’t tell him that’s where I kept it. 

I took a swig and then turned to face Marcone across the kitchen counter, trying to not let my nerves show. “So.”

“I spoke with Mab,” he confirmed, bracing his palms against the counter. “The alliance is agreeable, but I have a couple of matters I need to go over with you first.”

I restrained myself from sagging in relief. If he had had issues with Mab’s terms, there wasn’t much I would be able to do about it. The fact that they were in agreement meant that the only possible obstacles were in my jurisdiction. And I could work with that.

I set down my bottle and leaned against the counter. “Such as?” I asked casually.

Marcone took a second to choose his words before speaking. “There needs to be a certain level of trust and understanding in a marriage,” he said carefully. “If I were to agree, I would need your assurance that you won’t be questioning my every move, and causing me problems. I would need you to be… cooperative.” He said the last word very deliberately.

Ugh. Agreeing to trust and cooperate with Marcone sounded just as appealing as wading through a pool full of ectoplasm. I didn’t particularly like cooperating with anyone, but especially not him. But even I couldn’t say it was an unreasonable ask. Still….

“Marriage is a two-way street, John,” I pointed out. “Can you promise me the same?”

He considered it for a moment before he nodded. “Yes.”

Oh. I’d expected him to try to strong-arm me, claiming he didn’t have to promise anything, since I was the one that needed him to marry me. I hadn’t expected him to just agree.

I took a deep breath. If he could do it, then so could I. “Then, okay. I’ll work on being more ‘cooperative’. But don’t expect me to suddenly be nice to you, scumbag,” I added. Look, I was giving up a lot here. I needed to at least be a little antagonistic. 

His eyes crinkled in amusement. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. So… what was the second thing?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Ask me.”

I blinked. “What?”

“Ask me to marry you,” he said slowly and deliberately. “Properly.”

I glared at him as blood rushed to my face. Bastard. Stupid, arrogant, patronizing, damned bastard. I wanted to wipe that smug smirk right off his face.

He knew exactly what he was doing. I could admit that, on occasion, I could be a little prideful. Just a touch. My pride was already taking a hit asking this of Marcone in the first place. And now he wanted me to swallow the rest of it. To prove I could cooperate. And because he just loved watching me squirm. 

But fine. I was a big boy. I could handle it. But…

“I don’t have a ring,” I said aloud. I’d only ever proposed to someone once before, but I was pretty sure having a ring was standard. 

Marcone chuckled. “That’s alright.”

I frowned. So, what? I was just supposed to get down on my knee and ask him without anything to offer him? I’m a traditional guy. That didn’t cut it for me, even if it was Marcone. And then an idea occurred to me.

“One second,” I said as I scrambled around the counter to the door.

“Dresden-”

“One second!”

I ran down the hall to my bedroom and picked up one of the force rings from the top of my thrifted dresser, where I’d left them the night before. I had plenty, after all, and I wasn’t too worried about giving the tool to Marcone, considering it wasn’t nearly as deadly as pretty much every other weapon the guy had.

When I came back out of my room, Marcone was waiting for me in the entry to the kitchen, eyebrows raised. 

I held up the ring. “Still needs a recharge, but it’ll store kinetic energy every time you move your arm.” I came to a stop in front of him, and the reality set in of what I was about to do. I was about to propose to John Marcone.  

Come on, Harry, you’ve done worse things.  

I swallowed thickly, and my heart hammering, I got down on one knee. And there went the remains of my pride. My eyes darted up to Marcone to see him looking down at me with a peculiar expression. The amusement was gone from his face, and in its place was something just shy of vulnerable. That was weird. 

“John Marcone,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “Will you marry me?” 

He drew in a breath and I quickly added, “You only get the ring if you say yes.”

His answering smile almost touched his eyes. “Yes.”

I slid the ring onto his finger, and that was it. We were engaged.

He offered me his hand, but I pointedly ignored it as I got to my feet. What? I needed some boundaries here.

Marcone just looked amused. “I should let you know that Mab is intending for the official announcement to take place at a party this Saturday.”

I sighed. “Great. Another party full of monsters.”

“Let’s hope it goes better than the last,” he finished my thought.

I turned to glance in the direction of my daughter’s room. “I should tell Maggie.”

“Would you like me to leave?”

I thought it over before shaking my head. “No. You’re a part of this, you should be there. Besides…” I smiled at him over my shoulder. “She says you’re nice.”

I took a moment to commit Marcone’s shocked expression to memory, and then led him down the hall to Maggie’s room. 

“Hey,” I said gently as I opened the bedroom door, finding Maggie petting Mister, our large, grey tom cat, who was curled up at the foot of her bed. “Can I talk to you about something?”

She looked up at me, then glanced briefly at Marcone, who was hovering in the doorway. Her brow furrowed with worry. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” I assured her as I walked over to sit on her bed beside her. Mister opened one eye to stare up at me until I reached behind my daughter to scratch his ears. Content with the offering, he returned to feigning sleep. 

“Um, M- John and I are… getting married.” I took a deep breath, watching for her response nervously. “I hope that’s okay.”

The small part of me that had thought that, yeah sure, maybe someday I would settle down, had planned on not getting serious with anyone without my daughter’s approval. Or, at the very least, to have brought them around a lot more before getting engaged. Make sure she was comfortable with it. After all, this would affect her almost as much as it would me. She should get a say. So, it pained me to be unable to give her one.

Maggie was chewing on her bottom lip again as she thought. She looked down at Mouse, who was looking between Marcone and me suspiciously. Then her gaze flickered to Marcone, to me, and then down to her lap. She took a deep breath, and she got to her feet.

Mouse immediately moved to her, but she walked past him until she was just a few feet in front of Marcone. My 11-year-old daughter stared down the kingpin of Chicago and spoke in a strong voice that only wavered slightly. “You’ll take care of my dad, right?”

Pride swelled in my chest, and I felt tears threatening to well up in my eyes.

Marcone smiled as he inclined his head to her. “I promise,” he said solemnly. 

My eyebrows raised in surprise as I looked up at him, and he met my eyes with an amused grin. Marcone didn’t make promises lightly. He could have blown her off, but he hadn’t. It was one of those moments that reminded me that Marcone was more than what meets the eye. And considering I was marrying the guy, perhaps I should start being more grateful than annoyed that I couldn’t hate him.

Satisfied, Maggie nodded and fell back to wrap an arm around Mouse. “Then it’s okay.”

I slid off the bed to kneel next to her, wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug. “You’re the best, punkin,” I muttered into her hair. 

“I just want you to be happy, dad,” she said seriously.

I glanced up at Marcone over the top of her. He was staring down the hallway, a slight frown on his face. Yeah, not sure that happy was the right word, but as long as my little girl was safe, that was all I cared about.

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head before I pulled back. “We can have whatever you want for dinner,” I said decidedly.

She turned back towards Marcone, back to shyly hiding behind Mouse now that she was finished intimidating him. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“Oh. Um.” Marcone looked at me questioningly as I got to my feet. 

I wasn’t sure I was ever going to get used to seeing Marcone out of his element. It was peak entertainment. I shrugged. “You can, if you want.” I wanted Maggie to have more opportunities to be around him and get used to his presence before the wedding, and besides, she might get suspicious if I seemed to never want my fiance around. Ugh. Fiance. That would take some getting used to.

“Please,” Maggie added. 

Marcone could stand up against a lot, but not even the strongest of man could withstand Maggie’s puppy dog eyes. He caved.

“Very well,” he nodded as he held onto the last of his composure. 

“So, what’s on the menu?” I asked my daughter. 

“I want to make homemade pizza,” she said determinedly. “Bonnie said she knows over a thousand recipes. I’ll go get her!”

I stiffened and felt the color drain from my face. 

“Bonnie?” Marcone asked, arching an eyebrow curiously. 

Maggie looked up at me with a worried frown. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked quietly.

I forced a reassuring smile as I ran a hand over her head. “No, Maggie. I just hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him about Bonnie, yet. Why don’t you go on, and I’ll catch him up.”

She nodded, and Marcone stepped out of the way so that she and Mouse could set off down the hall. Mister looked up, saw the absence of his designated petter, and jumped off the bed to find more suitable lodgings. 

Once they were all gone, I fixed Marcone with a sharp look. “I need you to promise me, Marcone,” I said in a low, fervent voice, bordering on desperate. “Promise you won’t use what I’m about to tell you. And you won’t let Namshiel, either.”

Marcone was silent for a moment, and I knew he didn’t like making that promise without knowing what he was giving up. Well, tough luck. He was the one who wanted cooperation. Finally, he nodded. “I promise.”

I let out the breath that I’d been holding. “Bonea is… my other daughter.”

His eyebrows climbed up his forehead. “And here I was under the impression you didn’t get around much. Should I be concerned?”

I ignored the joke. “She’s my daughter with Lash - Lasciel’s shadow.”

His eyes went wide and he eyed me warily. “That’s possible?”

“There were extenuating circumstances. The Fallen are immutable, but their shadows aren’t. Lash was with me for years. She changed. Remember Vittorio Malvora’s psychic attack in the Deeps? Lash sacrificed herself to shield me from it. That’s how I was able to get us out. And it’s how Bonea was conceived.

“She’s a Spirit of Intellect,” I continued to Marcone’s stunned silence. “A powerful one, born of my knowledge and Lasciel’s. But she’s still young. Still learning how to apply what she knows. And she’s my daughter.” I fixed him with a hard look. “Lasciel already wants her. And if the wrong people find out about her…”

He nodded. “I understand. Dresden, your entire family is now under my protection. You don’t have to worry.”

Now it was my turn to fall into stunned silence. “I didn’t ask for that,” I said numbly. 

He gave me an exasperated look. “I protect what’s mine. And how would it look if I just sat by while something happened to my fiance or his family?” 

That… I should’ve thought about that. But if Marcone’s protection extended to my daughters, for once I wasn’t going to complain about him offering it. “Thank you,” I said sincerely.  

He blinked. “You’re welcome. Now, are there any other children I should be made aware of?”

“Nah, just the two. But if you start getting close to Shadow-Nam and you end up with migraines, let me know,” I said with a grin.

He looked vaguely horrified at that, so I decided to leave the conversation on a high note and check in on things in the kitchen. Maggie was pulling ingredients out of the pantry while a wooden skull sat on the counter, green lights in its eyes. Mouse was supervising intently. 

“There are almost infinite combinations of pizza toppings,” the skull was saying brightly. 

“Hm,” Maggie hummed thoughtfully. “Well, we’ll start simple.” 

“What makes a pizza topping simple?” Bonea asked curiously. 

She paused. “If it’s something offered by Pizza ‘Spress,” she said decidedly.

“Cheese, pepperoni, sausage, bacon, beef, ham, mushrooms, onions, peppers, olives, and pineapple are all simple pizza toppings,” she declared. “There are 2,047 simple combinations!”

“That’s all?” I asked, smiling at the scene before me as Bonea swiveled to face me. “Bonnie, there’s someone I want you to meet.” I looked to where Marcone had come up behind me, eyeing the little skull curiously. “This is John Marcone. He’s my fiance.”

“A fiance is someone you intend to marry!” The green in her eye sockets glowed slightly brighter as she said that, as they generally did when she was excited. “I know 2,573 different wedding ceremonies!”

“Well, we’ll keep that in mind,” I said with a grin.

I turned back to Marcone, seeing him shaking his head slightly as he regarded my little family. Yeah. This was going to be interesting.

Chapter Text

After I put Maggie to bed, Marcone and I ended up in the living room with a couple of drinks. And sitting on my $50 garage sale couch with John Marcone sipping at a beer beside me was not a situation I would have ever thought I would find myself in. And that was without even touching on the fact that the guy was my fiance. 

I eyed him surreptitiously as I took a drink of my beer. He’d finally abandoned his coat before we sat down for dinner, and he had rolled up the sleeves of the light grey button-up that he wore. It showed off his arms in a way, I had to admit, I appreciated. Damn, realizing I was attracted to the guy was going to make this marriage complicated. 

“Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Dresden?” Marcone asked, eyeing me closely. 

Oh. I’d started staring again, hadn’t I? I quickly jerked my gaze forward as I shrugged. “Just… thinking about marriage.” It wasn’t a total lie, after all. 

He hummed thoughtfully and I heard the click as he sat down his bottle. The weight of his gaze on me intensified. “I did want to ask you, do you intend to honor our marriage?” 

I froze, realized my hand was shaking, and then quickly set my own bottle down to not give me away. “I’ll have to,” I forced my voice to be casual. 

“You have to honor my alliance to Winter,” he corrected. “There are other things associated with marriage that aren’t covered by it. That you are, technically, free to ignore.” Even avoiding his eyes, I could feel him studying my face the entire time he spoke.

“Such as?” I asked carefully. There was no way I was giving a blanket agreement to honor everything that Marcone considered to be a part of marriage. Though the end result would probably be the same. Even ignoring how my magic would bind me to our vows, marriage meant something to me, and I would honor it. 

Marcone didn’t answer until I finally caved and met his gaze. And was he closer than he’d been a moment ago? “Will you pursue other relationships?” he asked evenly. 

I swallowed around a lump in my throat. I knew open marriages were a thing. I knew they worked for some people. But I was old fashioned. And it wasn’t like I had much of a dating life to give up, anyway. I shook my head.

He had definitely leaned in closer now, and his eyes were still boring into mine. “Good.” And then he kissed me. 

I wanted to say that I pushed him away. Or even that I froze in shock. But the truth was, I didn’t hesitate a second before kissing him back. 

His answering growl was fit for the tiger in his soul as he moved his hand around to twist in my hair, using the grip to slide closer until he was pressed against me. I wasn’t complaining, my own hands running up his arms, to his shoulders, and then to the buttons of his shirt. 

He pushed me down to the bed and paused hovering above me, apparently enjoying the view. 

“John,” I complained impatiently, my hand coming to the back of his head to pull him back down into a kiss.

He chuckled against my lips, and I welcomed his weight on top of me as he returned the kiss, his hands sliding over my body, freely exploring. He gripped the bottom of my shirt and broke the kiss to pull it up, over my head. Dark fabric briefly obscured my vision, and when it cleared, there was a pair of violet, glowing eyes staring down at me from above Marcone’s. 

I went rigid and started gathering my will on pure instinct.

“Now, now, Dresden, play nice,” a voice that wasn’t quite Marcone’s purred from his lips. His hands slid up my now bare chest, pausing just below my neck. “And I will, too.”

I tried to jerk away, but he was firmly on top of me, and I didn’t have much wiggle room. “Get out of here, Namshiel,” I spat. “You weren’t invited!”

“Really? You knew I was here.” He pressed his lips to my neck. 

“Get off!” I squirmed, fighting against the bile rising in my throat. “John,” I said desperately.

He pulled back to look down at me again, and when he spoke this time, it was Marcone’s voice. “He’s right, Harry,” he said reasonably. “You knew he was here. He’s a part of me.” He leaned down so that his lips brushed against mine as he breathed, “You chose us.”  

I sat bolt upright in bed, panting, drenched in sweat, and somehow still aroused, despite the direction the nightmare had taken. I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face. Marcone was in control of Namshiel, I reminded myself. He considered him a resource, to be kept at arm’s length. Not a part of him.

Also, I added sternly. I am not sleeping with Marcone. He’s on the list, remember?  

I stumbled into the bathroom and into the cold shower. Since becoming the Winter Knight, the cold showers my water heater-frying magic forced me to take had become a lot more tolerable. And this morning especially, I welcomed the cold. 

Oddly enough, the Namshiel part of my dream was the easiest part to get past. If anyone could keep a Fallen Angel on a leash, it was Marcone. I was more concerned that my attraction to Marcone had progressed into fully-fledged dreams. It would be one thing, if I didn’t know for a fact that he wanted me too. But he did want me. Enough that it was his number one desire where I was concerned. And if I wasn’t careful, this marriage could be a gateway into falling into bed with him. 

A sudden, terrifying thought occurred to me. And then I took a minute, as the ice cold water rushed over me, to reflect on Winter Law. 

All creatures bound to Winter have an ingrained sense of Winter Law. But for someone like me, who wasn’t born into it, and who hadn’t held the mantle long, relatively speaking, I had to take time to study it to become aware of the intricacies. It was kind of like reflecting on something that happened in your childhood. The knowledge was there, but you might have to take a second to retrieve it. 

It didn’t take me long to access the knowledge of Winter weddings and binding alliances. More specifically, what was involved in forming them. My stomach did a backflip and my eyes snapped open. Hell's bells. It had to be consummated. My marriage to John Marcone had to be consummated. 

My hands were clammy as I turned off the water and slowly dried off, my mind reeling from the information I’d just gained. 

Like you’re really put out by it, my inner voice whispered. Be honest, you’re glad for the excuse.

I have a list of Dangerously Hot Villains I Am Not Allowed to Sleep With No Matter What My Libido Says for a reason, dammit!

I shook my head. There was really no avoiding it. Which meant that was exactly what I was going to do until the wedding night.

I spent the day with Maggie and Mouse, playing in the snow and then curling up with some hot chocolate and a book. Bonea listened with interest as I read aloud to my girls, occasionally asking questions about why characters would do certain things. It was a good learning experience for her, and Maggie enjoyed helping to explain things to her sister. 

Eventually, though, I had to get ready for my engagement party.

Molly had provided the tux, and it was my understanding that she’d provided Marcone’s as well, so that we would coordinate. Appearances were important, after all. I was in all black, with the exception of my jacket and tie, which were of a silvery material that seemed to move in the light. The jacket was accented with high peaked pearl lapels and purple sapphire cufflinks. And unlike what I’d worn to the party last week, this tux was made to fit me. 

I came upstairs and struck a pose in front of Maggie, Hope, and Mouse. “What do you think?”

“You look good, Dad!” Maggie said with a smile. She came up to run her hand along the silvery material at my arm.

Hope nodded her approval. Mouse woofed. 

I straightened my tie, actually feeling pretty good about myself. Hopefully this tux would survive the night.

“Molly made me promise I wouldn’t let you be late,” Hope said seriously. “You should get going. I have everything under control here.”

“Thanks, hobbit.”

She was right. One did not simply show up late for a party Mab was hosting in your honor. Talk about adding injury to insult. And no, I didn’t mix that up. She would be adding many injuries to me, due to the insult. 

So, I said my goodbyes and then made my way to the fancy hotel ballroom in the Gold Coast, which I was pretty sure Marcone had selected for the event. Before going in, I ducked into one of the smaller meeting rooms, where I found Mab waiting for me.

The Winter Queen’s cold eyes scanned over me before she gave the faintest nod of approval. I inclined my head respectfully before I approached her.

“Just on time, my Knight,” she murmured. 

Ha! See, Molly, I can be on time , I thought as I looked around the room. When I saw that it was just the two of us, I frowned. “Where’s Marcone?” The guy was always scarily punctual. 

“Where, indeed?” Her eyes glinted darkly. “It is due time that I greet the guests. I trust the Baron to take care to arrive by the time I announce you both.”

I nodded sharply, projecting confidence despite the nervous knot forming in my stomach. “He’ll be here.” 

“He better be. There are some among the guests who doubt the strength of this alliance, largely due to your known animosity with the Baron. When he arrives, I expect you both to be… convincing.”

I didn’t have a chance to respond beyond nodding before she glided out of the room, and I was left with a mild panic building inside me. Where the hell was Marcone?

I went to stand outside the backdoor of the ballroom, listening as Mab called everyone to attention. There’d be some pleasantries, I knew, but it wouldn’t be long before she announced her Knight’s engagement, and then Marcone and I would be expected to join her on the stage. If he wasn’t here, that wouldn’t look good. I didn’t want to think about how that would go over for either of us. Dammit, this wasn’t like him! 

“And that brings us to the reason for tonight,” Mab’s voice drifted out of the ballroom.

“Dammit, Marcone,” I growled.

I heard a door open behind me and I spun around to see the crime lord striding swiftly into the building. His tuxedo was indeed in the same style as mine, except that his shirt was the same shade of silver as my jacket, and his jacket and tie, while the same shifting material as mine, were black, with the same pearly lapel and a glint of green-gold at the wrists. He looked good, but I was too frustrated to take notice, at the moment.

“Hell’s bells, Marcone,” I hissed. “You’re cutting it close.”

He didn’t acknowledge my words, just gave me a curt nod and strode past me to open the door to the ballroom.

“And this shall be achieved,” Mab was saying. “Through the marriage of the Winter Knight to the Baron of Chicago.”

Marcone strode onto the stage casually and confidently, as though he hadn’t arrived just in the nick of time, and I shook my head and followed after him.

He inclined his head respectfully to Mab, who returned the gesture before stepping aside to give him the stage.

“Thank you, Queen Mab. It is my honor to enter into this alliance with you.”

As Marcone spoked, I scanned the crowd. There were a lot of Fae, of course, but also representatives from most major supernatural nations. Mab really wanted to make a statement with this alliance. Most of them had already gotten word of it, of course - this announcement was just a formality - but still I saw several surprised faces. Along with a few that didn’t look too pleased. The others just looked… interested. 

My gaze moved to Mab, standing at the edge of the stage. She met my eyes briefly before eyeing the space between myself and Marcone rather pointedly. 

Right. Convincing.

I shifted a little closer to Marcone and placed my hand on his arm, making him aware of what I was about to do. The pause in his speech was small, and you would probably have to know him to have noticed it. I let my hand slide down his arm and intertwine with his. As I had noticed while dancing with him the previous week, I liked the feel of his hand in mine, making this less weird than it should have been. His thumb brushed gently along mine, a seemingly automatic gesture, and my heartrate responded to it. I tried to force my attention anywhere else.

“I look forward to seeing the fruits of this alliance,” Marcone finished.

I briefly wondered if I should say something, but Marcone was already walking away, leading me by the hand. It was probably for the best. I didn’t exactly have anything prepared. 

Once we got off the stage, I tightened my grip on his hand and tugged him down a short side hall to the single-stall bathroom.

“Dresden, what-?”

“Where were you?” I demanded, dropping his hand and rounding on him the second the door shut behind us. Despite my worried suspicion, I felt a bit of relief at the more familiar friction between us.

Marcone eyed be opaquely. “I got held up.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared. “Yeah? And what was so important you almost made Mab wait on you?”

“It was not intentional.”

I took a step closer. “What was it?” I hissed, my tension radiating from me.

He arched an eyebrow at me. “It is not as though you are punctual, Dresden. Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because you are,” I snapped. “And when a guy with a fallen angel in his head starts acting out of character, it raises some red flags.” I remembered my dream and suppressed a shudder.

His expression softened in understanding. “Of course. I’m sorry for the alarm. This has nothing to do with Namshiel. He is not with me. There was an attempt on my life that put me behind.”

I blinked, my arms dropping to my sides. “What?” I could feel the Winter Mantle stirring inside me, fueling a primal rage. The mantle didn’t care that this was an arranged marriage, that I didn’t even like Marcone. He was my fiance, and someone had tried to kill him. Who had dared to harm what was mine?

I shoved the sensation down before it could spill over.

“It happens,” he said simply. “And as you can see, I am fine.”

I opened my mouth to demand more information, but before I could, the bathroom door opened and Mab appeared. She regarded us with narrowed eyes. “Baron, Knight, I would assume there to be a reason you are hiding in the bathroom at an event in your honor.”

“Yeah,” I said matter-of-factly. “I needed to talk to my fiance.”

“Then I suggest finding a more appropriate time to do so,” she said, her voice brittle. “Your guests are waiting for you, and I know I need not remind you about appearance.”

“Well, I think we appear like a pretty typical engaged couple, just trying to get some alone ti-”

Marcone placed his hand on my back and cut me off. “You’re right, of course. We’ll be right out.”

He shot me a pointed look, to which I rolled my eyes. Then I let Marcone escort me back out to the ballroom full of some of the most powerful supernatural creatures in the world. And it occurred to me that one of them may very well be who had just tried to kill him.

Chapter Text

I stuck close to Marcone’s side as we navigated through the crowd and made sure to glare menacingly at anyone who gave him so much as a sour look. The creatures of Winter only respect you so much as you make them. If I looked like I wasn’t willing and able to defend my fiance, they would push the perceived weakness. And besides, someone just happened to make a move against Marcone right before his engagement to the Winter Knight was announced? That couldn’t be a coincidence. Which meant the perpetrator was probably here.

It wasn't long before a Valkyrie descended on us and Sigrun Gard fell in on Marcone’s other side.

I nodded to her in greeting. “Where’ve you been?”

“Parking the car,” she said simply, not looking at me as her gaze carefully scanned the room, pausing oh-so-briefly on each person to take note of them. Ah-ha. My suspicions were correct. They didn’t know who was behind the attack, and she thought it might be someone here, too. I’d have to get her thoughts once the party was over. Along with the details of what exactly went down.

We made our way to a table at the front of the room, which had been set with four places. Molly already stood next to one of the far place settings, and shot me a small smile as we approached. She looked stunning in a silver and pearl dress that accentuated her form, and which I appreciated from a purely intellectual standpoint because I’d watched the girl grow up, dammit.

“I’m glad to see Hope made sure you got here on time,” she said once we drew close enough to not be overheard.

I rolled my eyes. “Hey, I’m not the one who was nearly late.”

She raised an eyebrow at Marcone and Gard.

“Later,” Gard deflected swiftly.

The Winter Lady nodded. “Of course. The guests are waiting to eat.”

Marcone and I took our seats at the center of the table, and Molly and Gard sat on either side of us. That was apparently some sort of cue, because immediately a ripple of silence spread over the room. Many eyes were turned to us, though some were watching the waiters who were beginning to spill into the room. I hoped the hunger in their eyes was for the food and not the waitstaff.

As the first course was served, an idea occurred to me. If Mab wanted convincing, this should do it. And it would also send a very clear statement to whoever was behind the attack on Marcone. So, time to go off script. 

I waited until everyone had their salad and the waiters had filtered out of the room, and then I rose to my feet, bringing my glass of champagne with me. “I’d like to propose a toast,” I said, pitching my voice to carry throughout the room.

I could sense Marcone stiffening beside me, and Mab regarded me with narrowed eyes. Their confidence in me was overwhelming. Maybe there was a reason I hadn’t been given any speaking roles this evening. 

“To the Baron of Chicago - my fiance.” I inclined my head to him, only a touch sardonically, before I turned a cold gaze on the watching crowd. “The first vanilla mortal to sign onto the Accords, now entering into an alliance with Winter, the likes of which hasn’t been seen for centuries. If he was looking to make a name for himself, I think he succeeded.

“Of course, I know some people had their doubts when he signed on. Hell, I imagine several people in this room balked at the idea of a mortal signatory. But how many of us would be standing here, if not for him?”

My gaze sharpened, and I paused for a moment to let everyone digest that. “Baron Marcone is one of the most meticulous and prepared people that I have ever met. And it’s due to his preparedness that we even stood a chance at fighting Ethniu. Combine that with the resourcefulness of Winter, and I don’t fancy being someone trying to stand against us.” I chuckled darkly. “And all of this is without even touching on how integral he was in calming humanity in the aftermath.

“This is a powerful alliance. One that capitalizes on the strength of both parties, as well as provides a deterrent for any humans who get too antsy. And if there is any lingering doubt, I suggest you remember who spearheaded the Battle of Chicago. And who dealt the final blow against the last Titan.”

I stared down the crowd while my threat sunk in. Then I raised my glass with a cold smile. “To Baron Marcone.”

There were some murmurs of agreement, with varying levels of sincerity, as everyone raised their own glasses and drank. I saw Mab at her table, a satisfied smile on her face, and she gave me a faint nod of approval. I let out a breath as I sank back into my chair. I hated politics. Give me someone to punch. But I was pretty sure I made my point. 

Marcone’s eyes were locked on me intently, and he leaned in close to me as soon as I sat back down. “What was that?” he murmured, his breath tickling my ear.

“A message,” I said casually, leaning back slightly.

Molly tittered behind me. “More like a campaign speech for Chicago’s Next Power Couple.”

“Just Chicago?” Gard added with a wry grin.

I glared at both of them. “Really, ladies?”

Marcone chuckled, a decidedly pleased look on his face. “I’m impressed, Dresden. I didn’t know you were capable of being diplomatic.”

“What can I say?” I shrugged. “I’m full of surprises.”

He hummed in agreement, his green eyes sparkling. “Indeed. And I look forward to uncovering all of them.”

I suppressed a shiver at the chill that ran through me at those words. I wondered how much I would be able to hide from him once we were married. Not much, I was sure. And if he was so determined to uncover all my secrets… I didn’t like my chances. Fiance, husband, whatever he was, John Marcone was still one of the most dangerous people I knew, and I couldn’t let myself get too comfortable.

I shook off my unease and dug into my salad. No use borrowing tomorrow’s worries, and all that. A pang went through me as I remembered the last person who had said that to me, but I shoved it down. Now was not the time to get emotional. 

The food was good. Mab had clearly spared no expense with the preparations. And if this was the engagement party, I vaguely wondered what the wedding would be like.

Once the plates were all cleared away, everyone got to their feet, and it was time to mingle. Which meant more politics. But it also would be a great opportunity to gather information. If I looked at the evening like narrowing down suspects for a case, it would become at least moderately more tolerable. 

I turned to Marcone. “Let’s see the response to my message.” A glance around at the assorted supernatural creatures in the room confirmed that we had a lot of ground to cover. “You choose first.” I wanted to see who he thought wanted him dead. 

He nodded, motioned to Gard to stay behind, and then guided me with a hand on my back through the crowd. I let him because it wouldn’t be good for appearances if I slapped his hand away. 

I wasn’t entirely surprised when he led us directly to Lara Raith, who smiled brilliantly at us as we approached. “The men of the hour,” she purred. “I always thought you two were perfect for each other.”

That brought me up short. “What?” 

She rolled her eyes. “The fighting, the flirting, the sexual tension. You don’t have to be a succubus to see it.”

I could feel my cheeks heating up, but Marcone was as calm and composed as ever. “I’m glad you approve,” he said evenly.

Her laugh was positively addicting. She focused her attention on me, a silver glint in her eyes. “You’ll have to share with me what he’s like when his composure finally snaps. I bet it’s delicious.”

I tried very hard not to imagine Marcone’s measured composure falling away, and the circumstances that would force him to lose it. I tried not to imagine how it would feel to be the one to bring him to that point. The heat curling in my stomach indicated that I wasn’t doing a very good job. 

I could feel the tension radiating from the man beside me, from the hand on my back. I took a deep breath, trying to pull myself together. 

“I think I’ll keep that to myself,” I forced out, my voice slightly rougher than usual. 

Marcone cleared his throat. “I hope there are no hard feelings regarding the alliance, Ms. Raith,” he mercifully changed the subject. 

Lara looked amused when she turned back to him. “Are you kidding? I’d never have asked for an alliance, if I’d known it would be through marriage. And besides…” Her smile sharpened. “I could never stand in the way of this.” She motioned between the two of us.

“I’m glad to hear it. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He started to lead me away, but I dug my heels in, my eyes on Lara.

“Anything?” I asked in a low voice.

Her eyes became serious as she shook her head. “Nothing new,” she said soberly.

I nodded and allowed Marcone to escort me away.

He looked up at me through narrowed eyes. “What was that about?” he demanded quietly. 

I glanced at him and then away again. “Long story. And this isn’t the place for it.” Nor was I inclined to explain it to him. My eyes locked on a familiar figure standing at the back of the room. “My turn.”

I strode forward purposefully, and Marcone followed my lead until we came to a stop in front of the grey-cloaked figure.

“Carlos,” I greeted casually. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Carlos Ramirez eyed me warily. “The White Council needed a representative,” he explained, his tone disconcertingly formal. I still wasn’t used to our changed relationship, and the lack of warmth and banter was depressingly off-putting.

I narrowed my eyes, not letting my feelings show. “And why do the White Council care so much who I marry?”

Did I honestly think that the White Council was behind the attempt on Marcone’s life? I didn’t know. Yeah, they had the Thou Shalt Not Kill law, but there were ways around it. And I was used to them sticking their fingers where they didn’t belong, especially in regards to my life. But then again, maybe I just wanted it to be them, so I would have an excuse to hate them more. Things were at an all time low between myself and the council, after all, and maybe I was taking it a bit personally.

Ramirez’s eyes flashed. “We tend to take notice when monsters get married.”

“And just which of us are you calling a monster?” Marcone demanded evenly.

He looked over to him with a slight sneer. “Kind of telling that you can’t tell, isn’t it?”

Marcone’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and I wondered if I was going to have to intervene. “I’ve met you before,” he acknowledged before I could come to a decision, a slight chill running through his voice. “The Raith Deeps, right? You were there with Dresden.”

“That was a long time ago,” Ramirez muttered, glaring off into the crowd. 

“Yes. And I know Mr. Dresden doesn’t betray his friends, so I can only assume that it was the other way around.”

My jaw dropped open. Was Marcone… standing up for me? I felt a surge of gratitude, even as I worried about the direction the conversation had taken. 

Ramirez looked furious, and he visibly took a moment to reign in his emotions. “Yes, Harry Dresden doesn’t betray his friends,” he finally said coldly. “But he turned into something else the second he threw in with Mab.”

Marcone arched an eyebrow. “Oh yes, putting his life on the line to save our city is very out of character for him.”

“Maybe not,” Ramirez shot back. “But marrying a criminal who’s earned his fortune from blood and misery certainly is.” 

“‘Los,” I quickly cut in, my voice hard. “Cool it.” We may be at odds right now, but Carlos was my friend, and antagonizing Marcone wasn’t good for his wellbeing. 

Hell's bells. I was stopping someone from antagonizing Marcone. I was tempted to drop something just to make sure gravity still worked the way it was supposed to. 

Ramirez shook his head at me. “Whatever. I made my appearance. I’m heading out now.”

Marcone nodded. “Thank you for coming. Both sides of the alliance will remember the warm welcome from the White Council.”

“You do that,” Ramirez sneered, and with that he turned and walked away.

I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm myself. I had lost too damn much over the last few years, and that conversation with Ramirez had just reinforced how a large part of my identity had been taken away from me. Not to mention, the loss of a friend. It wasn’t fair.  

I felt a hand on my arm. “Dresden.” 

I opened my eyes to meet Marcone’s. He had stepped around in front of me and I didn’t even want to think about what he was reading on my face. “I’m fine,” I muttered. 

“You’re not,” he countered firmly. “But you can’t fall apart right now. We still have another hour of this. If you need a moment-”

I shook my head, giving myself a little shake. “No.” I reached up to grab the hand that was resting on my arm, removing it, but intertwining my fingers with his as I did so. “Let’s go. Your pick.”

He studied me carefully for a moment more before he turned away and led me by the hand, back into the crowd. And we set off to find the next most likely person to want him dead.

Chapter Text

We made our way through the representatives of the various supernatural nations one at a time. For the most part, they all made an effort to be diplomatic. Though some made more of an effort than others. I had to force myself to walk away from LaChaise before starting another war - have I mentioned I really hate ghouls? - and Ferrovax knew he didn’t need to do much to properly terrify me. I let Marcone take the lead on both of those conversations, which is probably the only reason everyone survived the evening.

It was a relief to speak to Donar Vadderung, who I was pretty sure liked me alright. And who at least liked Marcone enough to keep him on as a client. He offered us his congratulations and said he thought the alliance was a good one.

We were about to move on, but I found my feet refusing to move, and I was speaking before I thought about it. “How is she?” I asked softly, around a lump in my throat. 

Vadderung inclined his head to me with the slightest hint of a smile, his eye sparkling. “Brilliant as ever. And well taken care of.” His eye flickered to Marcone. “They both are.”

Marcone was stoic as ever, but I could feel a modicum of tension ease out of him, his shoulders dropping just a touch as he nodded his thanks.

I was debating whether or not I dared to try to get more information on how Murphy was doing, and Hendricks too, while I was at it, but a figure over Vadderung’s shoulder caught my attention. “Excuse me,” I muttered distractedly, stepping around him to approach the stocky old man lurking in the corner. I vaguely heard Marcone murmur a goodbye before following after me. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked in surprise. 

“Asking you what the hell you’re thinking, Hoss,” Ebenezar McCoy demanded.

“Well, I’m thinking that I don’t have much of a choice, sir.” I shrugged casually, projecting a lot more ease at my situation than I actually felt. There was no point in making a big deal out of it, though, because it wouldn’t change anything.

“Nah, I don’t buy that,” he bit out, shaking his head. “There’s always wiggle room. You don’t have to marry a known criminal.”

“Alleged criminal, Wizard McCoy,” Marcone corrected smoothly, his demeanor polite. “It is good to see you back on your feet.”

“Save it, lickspittle,” Ebenezar spat before turning his attention back to me. “Don’t tell me you’re just going along with this nonsense.”

“Well sir, my only other option is Lara Raith,” I said genially. “If you think that I should go with her, instead…”

I could almost see the smoke rising from his ears. My grandfather had serious issues with the White Court. So much so that he would’ve killed me over it. Yeah, that wasn’t a pleasant memory, and it was what stopped me from being entirely happy to see him here.

“There are some choice words I’d like to have with Mab,” he growled.

“Yeah, probably not a good idea,” I sighed. I was getting real tired of reigning in the old man’s temper. It used to be the other way around. “Look, I’ve tried to find a way out. There isn’t one. Marrying Marcone is my best option.”

“It’s a terrible option!” He jabbed a finger at him. “He doesn’t need any more power.”

“Respectfully, Wizard McCoy, this is not a matter you get a say on,” Marcone chimed in evenly. “I appreciate your concern for Dresden’s wellbeing, but he has made his choice. He is very capable, as I’m sure you are aware. You trained him well.”

Ebenezar’s eyes flashed to me irritably. “Told him all about your past, did you?” The old man was tight-lipped to the point that he made me look like a chatterbox. Any piece of information was a potential weapon someone could use against us. He took paranoia to a whole new level, but even still…

I held up my hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything!”

“I guessed,” Marcone admitted. 

The old man rounded on him. “Now, you listen here, Baron. You know my role on the council?” He waited for Marcone to nod before continuing. “Good. Then you know what will happen to you if you harm him in any way. And yes, that is a threat.” 

Ebenezar was glaring at him furiously, and Marcone met his eyes without hesitation. I could tell when the soulgaze began. It only lasted a second, though I knew it would’ve felt longer to them. Once it was done, Ebenezar turned to me with a questioning look in his eyes, coupled with clear concern.

I nodded in answer to his unasked question. I’d seen Marcone’s soul already. I knew exactly what he was. A cold, calculated predator.

Marcone inclined his head. “Noted, Wizard McCoy.”

I sighed. “Are you done now?” I demanded, mildly exasperated. I still needed to sit down and have a serious conversation with my grandfather, but this was not the time or the place to do it.

“Not even close, but I should be going,” Ebenezar admitted, some of the fight going out of him. “I’m not technically supposed to be here. It’s a ‘conflict of interests’, apparently,” he snorted, shaking his head. “But I don’t give a damn. If you need me, Hoss, you call me.”

“Course,” I agreed with a nod. 

Satisfied, he returned the nod before heading for the closest exit.

I shook my head before arching an eyebrow at Marcone. “How’d you guess?”

“Really?” he asked in disbelief. “You don’t even treat Mab with that much respect. Couple that with your similarities, and I figured he must have either taught you, or you’re related. Or both.” He side-eyed me.

I grunted, neither confirming nor denying, as I turned away. “Right, who next?”

We’d run through all of the supernatural nations present, so next up was the joyous experience of speaking to the various Fae that were in attendance. Honestly, they were just as likely candidates for plotting Marcone’s murder as anyone else here, but they were much more tedious to sort through, given that with every conversation, someone was testing me for weakness, waiting for the opportunity to pounce.     

“What do you say, Knight,” a gorgeous Sidhe purred, eyeing Marcone like a piece of meat. “Will you share? The alliance is with all of Winter, after all.”

Yeah, I’d seen this coming, and I knew I couldn’t let it slide. I leaned into the possessiveness of the mantle as I stepped forward, getting right into the Sidhe’s face. “The only thing I’ll share with you is this advice,” I snarled. “Look at him again and I will remove your eyes from your head.”

I glanced around and saw that several Fae surrounded us, watching the confrontation with interest. I raised my voice to address all of them with my next statement. “John Marcone is mine. I don’t share. His alliance is with Winter, but he is mine. And if you take issue with that, I would just love to make an example of you.”

I could feel more eyes turning towards us, our audience becoming more intent on the scene, waiting to see what I would do next. Actions speak louder than words, especially in Faerie. If I was claiming possession of Marcone, I would need to illustrate the point. Well, I’d known it was coming eventually. 

I ignored the tightening in my stomach as I spun on my heel to face my fiance. He was watching me with eyes slightly wider than normal. And darker than normal. The hunger in them was unmistakable. Good. Hopefully that meant he wouldn’t stab me for what I was about to do. 

I grabbed him by the lapels and roughly jerked him forward until his lips collided with mine. And I kissed John Marcone. 

I tried to focus on the point of the kiss. I needed to show that I was serious about him being mine, so I injected as much fierce possessiveness into it as I possibly could. I think I succeeded, but damn if Marcone’s hands on my waist weren’t distracting. And the way he’d used his grip to pull me flush against him. And don’t even get me started on his lips. 

My hand slid around to the back of his head, making a mess of his carefully styled hair, while my other hand slid down his chest until I could grip his hip with bruising force. The Winter Mantle was giving me all kinds of ideas as to how I could really send the point home. I could take Marcone to the floor. I could take him right here. Publicly. The Sidhe didn’t blush at things like that, and I’d be perfectly within my rights to claim what was mine. 

I forced myself to pull back, breaking the kiss. We were both breathing heavily. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, using logic to overpower the mantle. 

One, there were more than just Fae here, and they would almost certainly see the display as Winter dominating over Marcone. Two, that didn’t look good in terms of a mutual alliance. Three, Marcone’s reputation would take a hit, and I told him I’d do my best to avoid that. Four, both Mab and Marcone would be pissed at me, and I didn’t think I could survive that. Five, he was a criminal scumbag, and he was on the list, dammit! 

The mantle subsided, and I took another deep breath before opening my eyes. Marcone’s eyes were intent on me, but I did my best to ignore them as I detached myself from him. Around us, the attendees had gone back to their own conversations. My display had done the trick. 

“Sorry,” I muttered under my breath, not quite looking at Marcone. “It would’ve been bad for both of us if I didn’t… make a point.”

“No apology necessary,” he murmured, his gaze still locked on me. 

I looked around for someone new to talk to. Anything to break the tension that was now palpable between us. The party was dying down, though, and the options were slim as guests began to take their leave.

“A fine display,” a familiar voice rang out behind me.

I turned around, blinking in mild surprise. “Lea. I didn’t realize you were here.”

The Leanansidhe’s answering smile was equal parts beautiful and terrifying. “Did you really think I would miss this?”

Yeah, she had a point. It was just that, after becoming the Winter Knight, I actually hadn’t seen much of my godmother. In a way, it made sense. She’d been my highest contact among the Sidhe before Mab had taken over my contract. But now I worked directly for the queen. And I guess she didn’t have many jobs that required both her hitman and her handmaiden. 

I looked over my shoulder, feeling only the tiniest bit bad for not giving Marcone forewarning about my godmother. “Uh, Marcone, this is my faerie godmother, the Leanansidhe.”

He blinked in surprise. “I see. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Hmm.” She stepped forward and circled Marcone, looking him over as though inspecting a car she wanted to buy. Or a particularly good cut of steak. Once she was apparently satisfied, she nodded to me. “I approve.”

I rolled my eyes. “Gee, thanks,” I said dryly. It was too bad I didn’t.

She turned back to Marcone. “There are not many I would deem worthy of my godson, but I believe you will do.”

I spluttered indignantly, but they both ignored me.

Marcone inclined his head. “I am honored.”

“I wish I could stay longer,” she continued, shifting to address the both of us. “But my presence is needed elsewhere. Take care of my godson, Baron. I will see you both at the wedding.”

Marcone shook his head as she vanished. “Any other surprise family members that I should know about?”

I deliberately did not look at him. “Looks like pretty much everyone’s leaving,” I observed as though I hadn’t heard him. 

“Hmm.” There was clear acknowledgement in the sound, but he didn’t push it. At least not yet. 

“We could probably get away with going, too,” I continued. “We’ve talked to everyone.”

“Before we leave, I would like a private word,” he said softly. 

Mild alarm shot through me as I tried to think of what he might want to talk to me about. Was it pushing me on the family thing? Or about my exchange with Lara? Or… oh, please don’t be about the kiss. I didn’t think I could handle having that conversation with him.

We said some farewells, and Gard went to get the car while Marcone and I stepped into the same private meeting room I’d met Mab in earlier that evening. 

“What’s up?” I asked, turning to lean back against the edge of a table, hoping that my nerves didn’t show through. 

“I would like to cash in my favor from Winter.”

I relaxed. Business. I could deal with business. I vaguely wondered if he’d purposely built my nerves up so that I’d be more agreeable to doing him a favor. If so, it was a decent strategy.

“Oh. Yeah, okay, sure. What is it?” 

His eyes seemed to focus in on me, studying, calculating. “I would like your help getting to the bottom of who attempted to kill me this evening.”

I blinked. “Hell, Marcone, I was gonna do that, anyway.” What did he think I was doing all evening? Did he honestly think I wanted to talk to all those people? 

Some tension seemed to ease out of his shoulders, and he nodded, satisfied. 

I raised my eyebrows in realization. “You were testing me.” 

He didn’t deny it. “As you might recall, I did the same thing when we first met.”

“To gauge my honesty, yeah. But why now? You know I…” I trailed off. Oh. “To make sure I’m still me,” I breathed, answering my own question. 

He nodded, not the slightest bit sheepish. “Some of your recent actions could be taken as being out of character. I had to be sure.”

Recent actions, huh? Like asking him to marry me and then kissing him, I imagined. Couldn’t blame him there. And also… I didn’t want to. I needed people to make sure I was still me. That the mantle hadn’t twisted me into something unrecognizable. And Marcone knew me well enough I thought I could trust him to do that. 

I met his eyes. “Good. Hold me accountable.”

“As you wish.” He hesitated for just a second. “And I’d appreciate it if you could do the same.”

There weren’t words to express my utter shock at that request. Because there was a lot to unpack there. Marcone was trusting me to make sure he didn’t go off the deep end with the fallen angel in his head. But in asking that, he was acknowledging that he wasn’t infallible. That there was a chance, however small, that he could lose himself to Namshiel. And that showed weakness. Not a lot, of course, but Marcone had carefully crafted his impenetrable persona. Failure simply wasn’t an option for him in the way he presented himself. But underneath it all, he was only human. And he was letting me see that. And the fact that he was willing to acknowledge it, to show it to me, made me even more confident in his ability to stay in control. I don’t care what anyone says, recognizing weakness is strength.

“I will,” I promised seriously, letting him see that I understood what his admission had cost him. The weight of it hung heavy in the air between us. I cleared my throat. “So… did you know what you wanted for that favor, or was this just to test me?”

“No, I do know,” he said, whatever hint of vulnerability that had been present in the air around him vanishing. “But I will need you to do the courtesy of listening to my reasoning before you react.”

“I don’t know, John,” I drawled. “That seems like a favor on its own.” 

He fixed me with a sharp look. “More of a request.”

I waved my hand at him in a ‘carry on’ motion. 

Marcone sighed. “I would like to move in together.”

My eyes popped out of my skull. I opened my mouth, remembered he’d asked me to listen before reacting, closed it, remembered I didn’t give a damn, and then demanded, “How much champagne did you have?”  

“This is not the effects of alcohol, Mr. Dresden, it is about practicality. I told you that your family is under my protection, so currently, my resources are divided between both of our households. It makes more sense to consolidate. Besides, it will be easier to work together, and it will further appearances.”

I was shaking my head, even as the painful tug of the Winter Mantle reminded me I had to honor this favor. “I just got Maggie settled,” I argued. “I can’t just uproot her again.”

“Understandably so. You will note I didn’t say for you to move in with me.”

He let me process that for a second. And then my spine went rigid, my eyes narrowing angrily. “Hell no, Marcone,” I growled through the pain. 

Marcone rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a child, Dresden.”

“It’s my castle!” I protested. “I got it, fair and square! You don’t get to just demand it back!” 

“And I’m not,” he assured, though not without a hint of smugness. “I was honest about my reasoning. Co-ownership of the castle is a secondary motivation.”

I ground my teeth together. Dammit, I literally couldn’t refuse this. “Fine,” I spat. “But the lab is mine. I want you to stay out of it.”

He thought it over for a minute before reluctantly nodding. “I suppose that is reasonable. Though I may ask you to reconsider in the future.”

“And I won’t,” I assured, not without a bit of pettiness. “You can come up with your own lab for your spiny friend.” 

His expression very clearly communicated that he thought I was being childish, but I didn’t care. My lab was all I had left from my old apartment and I wasn’t sharing. Besides, I had secrets down there. And like hell was I allowing Marcone or Namshiel anywhere near Bob. 

“Very well,” he allowed, resigned. “You can expect the movers to arrive tomorrow afternoon. I can restore some of the castle’s furnishings, as well as add some from my mansion.”

“Big of you,” I grumbled, annoyed. “But my furniture stays.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.” I glared at him for a minute before I pushed past him to the door. Before I exited the room, I looked back over my shoulder at him. “Don’t forget a bed. Cause you’re sure as hell not sleeping with me.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement, and with that I left, seething. Just when I’d thought things couldn’t get any worse. I should really know better by now.

Chapter Text

Maggie warmed up surprisingly quickly to the idea of Marcone moving in with us. She assured me again that she just wanted me to be happy, and that she even thought she’d like Marcone living with us, once she adjusted to it. It was almost too much, honestly. I wanted to be honest with her, to explain to her that Marcone and mine’s relationship was purely political. But I also didn’t want to burden her with that knowledge. 

She was holed up in her room when the movers arrived, bringing in furniture that was all far more expensive than anything I ever thought I’d own. I sat on my cheap, patchy couch in protest as the new stuff got moved in. 

Which was where Marcone found me. He took one look at me, seemed to realize exactly what I was doing, and his eyes crinkled in amusement. “They’re almost done,” he assured me. 

“Like it matters,” I grumbled. “You’ll still be here.” 

He rolled his eyes. “We’re getting married, Dresden. You’d think you would’ve been prepared for something like this when you asked me.”

“Bold of you to assume I think that far ahead.” As a matter of fact, I’d been deliberately avoiding thinking about what my future with Marcone would look like.

“Of course, my mistake,” he said wryly. He glanced around the room. “Where’s Maggie?”

“Her room. Why?” I asked, more curious than suspicious. 

He held up the small, blue bag he was holding, which I hadn’t taken much notice of, but upon closer inspection, appeared to be a gift bag. “I got her something.” 

I smiled a little at that. “Bribing an eleven-year-old to like you, John? That’s just sad.” But I got to my feet and motioned for him to follow me downstairs. 

“Hey, Maggie,” I said as I led him into her room. “John’s here. He wanted to say hi.”

Maggie looked up from where she sat at the small table in her room, drawing something in an activity book.

“Hi, Mr. Marcone,” she said with a shy smile. 

“Hello, Miss Maggie,” he greeted warmly. “I wanted to thank you for supporting my relationship with your father. I brought you something.” He set the gift bag down on the table in front of her.

She opened the bag curiously, showing much more restraint than I would have with a gift at her age. Or at my current age. She pulled out a book that looked to be about child detectives, and which she looked over with interest. 

“Thank you!” she said excitedly, and I couldn’t help but smile at her joy. 

“You’re very welcome. I hope you like it.”

She looked like she wanted to dig into the book that second, but instead she carefully set it down and looked back up at Marcone. “I hope you like living here. I can give you a tour, if you’d like?” she offered hesitantly.

I laughed, putting a hand on Marcone’s shoulder. “I don’t think that’s necessary, punkin. He’s who owned the place before us.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. And now he’s marrying me just to get it back.”

Maggie giggled. “That’s silly, Dad.”

“Yeah well, John’s a silly guy.” I nudged him with my elbow as I spoke, earning myself an annoyed look. 

“Thank you, Harry,” he muttered dryly, and I gave him a cheeky smile. “Now, I imagine the movers are wrapping up. I should go check in.”

I turned back to my daughter as Marcone left the room. “Looks like a good book,” I commented, tapping the cover. 

She nodded enthusiastically. “It’s about detectives, like you.”

I smiled. “You’ll have to let me know if you think I can learn something from it.”

She seemed to be deep in thought for a moment before her eyes refocused on me. “I can tell Mr. Marcone really loves you, Dad,” she said with that certainty that only the young have. 

I had to fight to keep the shock off my face at her statement, but I was sure my eyes grew at least a little wider. “Oh?” I choked out. 

She nodded. “I don’t think he’s been around kids much before, but he’s really nice to me because he knows it’s important to you. And I see it when he looks at you. I’m really glad you’re marrying him.”

I blinked my eyes several times. “Oh. Well. Good. Um. I’m going to go… get started on dinner.”

This is good, I reminded myself as I left Maggie’s room in a daze. If she knew how much we disliked each other, she would just be confused.  

But I really hated lying to her.

*

Marcone wanted to go over the suspects in his attempted murder together, so after I put Maggie to bed that night, I made my way to the third floor room that he had reclaimed as his office. And if he wanted to walk up three flights of stairs to get from his room to his office, that was no skin off my nose. But I was much happier with my office on the ground floor.

“Would you… I need that…” Marcone’s exasperated voice drifted out to the hallway. I turned into the room in time to see Mister move from sitting on the desk - apparently on top of a paper Marcone was trying to get to - to the crime lord’s lap. 

“Oh no,” I said, shaking my head. “Mister, you are not going to become the evil mastermind’s prop cat.”

He just looked up at me in defiance as he settled into loaf position. 

Marcone chuckled, obligingly scratching Mister behind the ear. “What is it with your animals being so much larger than average?”

“Well, because I’m larger than average,” I said as I plopped down onto the stiff, leather couch by the wall.

“Oh?” Marcone smirked, and I immediately felt my cheeks heating up. 

“No, not like tha- I mean, not that I’m not, but… shut up!” I snapped. And then for good measure, muttered, “I’m tall.” 

Marcone laughed. “Yes, you are, Dresden. But if we’re done discussing your bodily proportions, perhaps we can move onto figuring out who’s trying to kill me.”

I nodded, straightening up. Anything to move on from that Freudian slip. “I don’t think it’s Lara,” I provided. “I think she was being honest about not wanting the marriage. It really doesn’t benefit her if you die, and then we’re back where we started.” 

“You might be right,” he acknowledged thoughtfully. He paused. “You seemed suspicious of the White Council.”

“I’m always suspicious of the White Council,” I said darkly.

“But what would be their motivation in this?”

“Screwing with my life because they can’t seem to get enough of that,” I muttered bitterly, a tide of emotion washing into me again as I thought of their most recent betrayal. I supposed I hadn’t exactly dealt with that, yet. “Never known them to pass up an opportunity to fuck me over.”

Marcone arched an eyebrow curiously. “How so?” 

I scoffed. “How so?” And then the tide came crashing down, and the words came pouring out of my mouth before I had a chance to think about who I was spilling my heart to. “Let’s see, they failed to notice that a former warden was practicing dark magic with the goal of enslaving me to his will, and when I killed him in self-defense, they swooped down on me for breaking the First Law of Magic that I knew nothing about. And even though I was just a kid who had been betrayed by the person I trusted most, I clearly deserved to be executed.”

My hands tightened into fists on my lap and I shook my head in disgust. “The only reason I got off was because Eb intervened, but I was still a warlock, and the council expected me to prove it at any moment. I couldn’t so much as scratch my ass without a warden breathing down my neck, waiting for the slightest excuse to end me. It wasn’t an if for them, it was when.  

“Even when my name was eventually cleared, they were still waiting for me to go evil. And then I started the war with the Red Court, and they would’ve shipped me off to them gift wrapped if it weren’t for Mab. And then they had the gall to demand I be a warden - be the boogeyman that kept me awake at night - because I started this war, dammit, so I had to clean up the mess.

“So, I helped them. I became a regional commander. I had to do things I didn’t always agree with, but I did it. And I did it well. But when my little girl was taken by the Red Court, they did nothing! And when I turned for help in the only other place I could, they labeled me a monster and kicked me out of the council. Even my friends turned on me.” My voice was shaking, and I realized at some point I had started crying. I hastily wiped at my eyes, staring at the ground. 

Marcone didn’t say anything as he stood from his seat, displacing Mister with a mrowl of protest, and walked over to sit on the couch beside me. I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t believe I had just lost it like that. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d been stung by the council’s most recent actions. But it fucking hurt. I’d given them a lot, despite constantly being met with nothing but suspicion, and in return, they’d tossed me out like garbage. 

“Dresden, look at me,” Marcone said softly.

I didn’t want to. Marcone was one of the last people I wanted to be vulnerable around.

“Harry,” he pressed. He cupped my cheek in his hand and turned my head to face him, his eyes blazing with an anger I had only seen from him on a few occasions. “They don’t deserve you,” he growled fiercely, holding eye-contact with me. “You are better than all of them combined. No wonder they hate you. Without even trying, you clearly illustrate how they aren’t as righteous as they like to pretend to be.”

I laughed weakly, not quite sure what was happening. “I think you missed the part where they were waiting for me to go warlock.”

“Yes, because it was easier for them to label you as a monster than to look in the mirror. Don’t believe a word they’ve said to you. I’ve seen your soul, Harry Dresden, and you are a good person.”

It was too much. Everything was too much. I hurt, and I was confused, and I just wanted to forget . Marcone was right there, so close. It would be no effort at all to close the distance between us. To kiss him. To let him distract me from everything else. And I wanted to. So. Bad.

I pulled away, turning to face forward as his hand fell from my face. “What’re you doing, John?” I asked wearily.

“I’m telling you the truth because you deserve to hear it,” he said simply, his voice quiet but firm. “And because the White Council clearly doesn’t realize that treating you like a monster is the most efficient way to get you to become one.”

“That how it happened for you?” I asked without thinking and immediately regretted it. Whatever his reasoning, Marcone was just trying to help here. He didn’t need me throwing jabs at him right now. But the verbal sparring with him just came so naturally.

Marcone, however, didn’t seem fazed. “No,” he answered easily. “I made myself what I am. But you care far more about others’ opinions of you. So, you’re more likely to be influenced by them.”

“You’re not immune to influence, either, Marcone,” I pointed out, perhaps a bit defensive. “In fact, you have a fallen angel influencing the way you think right now.”

“I’ve been careful to ensure that my will isn’t compromised,” he said, a hard edge to his voice. “Much like you are careful to ensure that you are not compromised by the Winter Mantle.”

He wasn’t entirely wrong. I did have the mantle fueling my primal desires, putting thoughts in my head that had no business being there. But the mantle was a part of me. I wasn’t sharing headspace with another entity that wanted to warp me to their will. And maybe that layer of separation would make it easier for Marcone to not succumb to Namshiel, but I knew how tricky the Fallen could be, and at least I was still more or less my own person.

“If you really didn’t want your will to be compromised, why’d you take up the coin in the first place?” I demanded. I remembered the utter shock I’d felt when violet eyes had appeared on Marcone’s forehead when we were on the beach. Despite all his power grabs, I’d thought he was smarter than that. I’d trusted him to be smarter than that.

“Why’d you take up the mantle?” he shot back at me.

“To save my daughter,” I answered immediately. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“And I did so to protect Chicago,” he said matter-of-factly, as though our reasons were no different. But to him, maybe they weren’t. “There were threats that I could not hope to stand against without power of my own. I knew I could not always count on you to come riding to the rescue, nor did I want to have to rely on that. So, when the coin fell out of Mr. Carpenter’s pocket, I picked it up, so I would have it for the next emergency. After you were shot and the Fomor invaded our city, I was glad I did. Without Namshiel’s help, I’m not sure I would have been able to hold them off.”

I let out a long exhale. It made sense that that was when Marcone had started using the coin. And I knew from everything my friends had told me that Marcone had been pivotal in stopping the Fomor from overtaking Chicago. But still - “It’s still a dangerous game you’re playing,” I said firmly. “There’s no way Namshiel is content with being a power-up you only sometimes equip.”

“Actually, he’s quite satisfied with the arrangement,” he objected. “So long as I provide him with the time and resources to study magic, that is all he really cares about.”

“You can’t-” I started to argue, but Marcone cut me off.

“We have gotten off topic, and frankly, this is a moot point. You consider me a monster with or without the coin, so picking it up really made little difference. But more to the point, you are a good person, with or without the mantle. Believe in what you are, Harry.”

“Don’t call me Harry,” I corrected off-handedly. Something about his statement was bothering me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I shook my head. “We gonna actually work on figuring out who wants you dead, or did you want to play therapist some more?”

Marcone looked at me opaquely for a moment before he got to his feet and walked back over to his desk, reclaiming his seat. “The White Council isn’t likely,” he said as though the whole exchange had not occurred. “It seems too drastic of measures.”

“Yeah. Right,” I agreed reluctantly, flopping back onto the couch with a sigh that immediately turned into an uncomfortable groan. “Hell's bells, John, your furniture sucks,” I muttered.

He looked at me over his desk with raised eyebrows. “That couch is worth more than all of the furniture you had in this castle, combined.”

“Well, it’s uncomfortable. Couches are supposed to be soft.”

He shook his head. “Can we focus, Dresden?”

Right. Focus. Though it was his fault we’d gotten off topic in the first place. Where had all that about me being a good person come from, anyway? Was he really that worried that the council labeling me a monster would turn me into one? I was used to them thinking poorly of me; they had my entire life. Though, I supposed that in Marcone’s eyes, that would only lend weight to his argument. That I’d been willing to become the Winter Knight because I was already thought of as a monster by some.

‘You consider me a monster with or without the coin, so picking it up really made little difference.’

Okay, I was reading too much into things. Marcone didn’t value my opinion any more than I valued the council’s. We were both off base here.

Chapter Text

Maggie was officially on winter break from school, which meant I got to sleep in the next morning. Yeah, that’s right, parents enjoy sleeping in on breaks, too. And after the weekend I’d had, I needed it. The part of me that wanted to be a responsible dad, though, didn’t let me sleep any later than eight. Then some inner dad alarm went off, telling me I should make breakfast before Maggie woke up. And I listened. See, I can be a mature adult.

I went to the bathroom then made my way to the kitchen, where I immediately froze in the doorway as I took in the sight that greeted me. Marcone sat at my kitchen table, already dressed and ready for the day, and across from him sat Maggie, still in her dinosaur pjs, with Mouse curled up by her feet. They were eating scrambled eggs and bacon. The mob boss was just casually eating breakfast with my daughter. The amount of cognitive dissonance I was experiencing was off the charts. Yeah, I knew that he was living here now, and that we were getting married, but I still had never imagined him actually being integrated with my life. 

Marcone was sat facing the doorway, and he looked up when I appeared. It wasn’t until I took note of his eyes roaming over me, lingering on my legs, that I realized I was just in Star Wars boxers and a t-shirt that read ‘I’d rather be eating pizza’. I shifted uncomfortably and he met my eyes with an amused grin. 

“Good morning, Harry,” he greeted me warmly. “There’s breakfast on the counter.”

Maggie twisted around in her seat. “Morning, Dad!” 

I gave myself a mental shake and focused on my daughter. “Good morning, Maggie.” I walked over to plant a kiss on the top of her head. “You’re up early. Why didn’t you wake me?” 

Maggie waking up early wasn’t entirely uncommon for her. She still had nightmares a lot. But normally when that happened, she would either wake me up, or just crawl into bed with me. 

“I was gonna, but I saw Mr. Marcone in the hall, and he asked if I wanted breakfast.”

“I hope I didn’t overstep,” Marcone chimed in. 

I looked over at him and realized he genuinely wasn’t sure if he had or not. This was new territory for the both of us, and it looked like I wasn’t the only one trying to find my footing. He probably hadn’t been sure what to do when he found himself facing my daughter alone, but offering to make her breakfast was a good move. I shook my head. “As long as she’s good, I’m good.”

“I’m good, Dad,” Maggie confirmed. 

I mussed her hair affectionately before walking over to the counter to dish up. “I didn’t know you cooked,” I admitted as I dumped the rest of the bacon onto my plate. 

Marcone chuckled. “Did you think me incapable of taking care of myself?” 

“I don’t think anyone could think that,” I said honestly, taking the seat beside my daughter. “I just meant, I figured you had people to do all your cooking for you.” 

“It’s not something I have a great deal of extra time for,” he admitted. “But I still enjoy it when I can.” 

“Well, I won’t stop you,” I said around a mouthful of delicious eggs. 

Marcone didn’t linger long before leaving for work (aka, criminal activities), and then I got ready for the day before taking Maggie over to the Carpenter’s. She and Harry had wanted a play date to celebrate the first weekday of break, and I had some errands to run, so it worked out.

My first stop was McAnally’s. Mac greeted me with his typical nod and grunt combo. I got a beer, and then made my way to a table in the back corner, where my ten o’clock appointment was already sitting, waiting for me. 

“Thanks for meeting me,” I commented as I took a seat across from the Valkyrie. 

Gard’s serious demeanor broke with a wry smile. “You are engaged to my employer. I’ll put it on Marcone’s tab.” 

I nodded, not feeling the slightest bit guilty about that. Besides, this was for Marcone. “This is about him, actually,” I said before taking a drink of my beer.

She nodded for me to continue. 

“He told me a bit about what went down Saturday. Any indication as to what caused the explosion?” 

Marcone had filled me in last night on how exactly the attempt on his life had gone down. He and Gard had been on their way to the party when they’d started having car problems. They ended up stopping at a mechanic, and while Gard was in the shop and Marcone was calling for a replacement vehicle, the engine spontaneously exploded. If they’d still be driving when it happened, it wouldn’t have ended well. As it was, Marcone barely got out of the way in time. 

“It was almost certainly magical means,” Gard confirmed what I’d already figured. “Though you might have better luck figuring out the specifics.”

“You got any debris?” I asked hopefully. 

She was already reaching into her pocket. She pulled out a small vial with chunks of metal inside, which she passed over to me. “I had a hunch that’s what this meeting was about.”

“Thanks, Siggy.” I slipped the vial into my duster pocket. “What do your Valkyrie-senses tell you about it?”

“As I’ve explained to you before, it doesn’t work like that,” she said with an air of exasperation. “What do your instincts tell you?”

I shrugged. “Well, I would guess it’s in response to our engagement.”

Gard raised her eyebrows. “Have you ever considered detective work with that impressive deductive reasoning?”

“Hey, you don’t have anything better!” I shot back defensively. 

She rolled her eyes. “Did the two of you get anywhere with the people at your engagement party?”

“I mean, there were plenty who were suspicious,” I sighed. “But none of them felt like mentioning they wanted Marcone dead.”

“Did you think they would?”

“I can always hope,” I said with a shrug. “There were plenty of people there who don’t like one or both of us, but other than that, we don’t exactly have much to go off of.” I patted my pocket. “Hopefully I’ll get more with this.”

“Keep me informed,” she said in a way that somehow sounded like ‘keep me informed, or else’. She started to rise to her feet, but then paused. “And Dresden… keep an eye on him.”

I blinked at her in surprise. “On Marcone?” I didn’t know who else she could be referring to, but why would she be asking me to keep an eye on Marcone? Sure, it was her job, but she knew he could take care of himself. And it just didn’t seem like the kind of thing she would be asking of me, of all people.

She nodded somberly. “I’m concerned. He’s not in the best headspace right now. Not since Nathan…” She took a deep breath. “I question some of the decisions he’s been making.” 

“Decisions like marrying me, for instance?” I accused with a raised eyebrow. 

“That is one of them. Though not for the reason you think.” She shook her head. “I will not betray him by discussing any more details of his personal life. I hope you have a good rest of your day, Dresden.”

I watched her go, feeling confused. Not for the reason I thought? What other reason could there be for her to not want Marcone to marry me? The only answer that came to mind was that I was dangerous, our relationship was volatile at best, and this was almost certainly doomed to end in fire. What other reason did you need? 

I pondered that as I drank my beer, but couldn’t come up with anything. Maybe she was the one losing it after Hendricks’s death. Not that that seemed very likely.

After I finished my drink, I went and had a look around the mechanic’s shop where Marcone’s car had blown up on him. And seriously, I was the only one allowed to blow up his property, dammit! 

As expected, there wasn’t much to be gained there after two sunrises, and the workers didn’t appreciate me snooping around. So, I left to do some shopping, checked in with the paranetters as part of my normal Wizard of Chicago duties, and then picked up Maggie on my way home. 

We still had a bit of time before we needed to start thinking about dinner, so I left Maggie reading her new book aloud to Bonea and Mouse, while I went down to my lab to hopefully get somewhere on this investigation. 

“Tall, blond, and sexy was right,” Bob confirmed, studying the debris I’d set down before him. “There’s definitely a magical residue here. Also a faint hint of hellfire.”

I nodded, unsurprised. “I expected that with Namshiel around.”

Bob wiggled back and forth on his shelf. “I still can’t believe you’re marrying a Denarian, boss.”

I glared at the skull. “I’m marrying Marcone. He just happens to share headspace with a Denarian on occasion.” 

“Right,” he drew out the word a bit. “And he’s also a mob boss that you hate. And you chose him over Lara Raith. Think of what you could’ve had, Harry!” His voice had taken on the wistful tone he gets whenever he thinks about sex. 

“Focus, Bob!” I snapped. “What can you tell me about the magical signature?” 

“Powerful, but messy,” Bob chirped. “Are you sure you didn’t do this?” 

“Ha, ha. How messy we talking?” 

“If they’d been more precise, Mobster & Co. wouldn’t have had the warning of the car trouble. It just would’ve been boom.”

I grunted in acknowledgement. “So, we’re dealing with an amateur.” 

“I didn’t say that. Whoever did this has power. They might just not care for restraint. Kind of like someone else I know.” 

“Don’t you have something better to do than come up with ways to insult me?” I demanded tiredly. 

“Nope!” he said pleasantly.

I shook my head as I walked over to lay a piece of paper down in front of him. “Well, look over these names. Let me know who on the list you think fits the bill.” I glanced at the clock. “I should get started on dinner. We’ll pick this up later.”

“Sure thing, boss!”

Marcone wasn’t home by the time dinner was ready. Maggie asked about him, but I told her he was probably just working late. What kind of hours did a mob boss keep, anyway? It would make sense that a lot of that stuff would go down after sundown. But he’d also started his day just a little after eight. That was a long day. Though it did make sense from what I knew of Marcone. His entire life had been built around his work. 

It wasn’t until the hour hand creeped past the ten mark on the clock that I started to get worried. I didn’t like playing the role of the worried partner, waiting for his fiance to return home. This whole relationship was political; it shouldn’t matter to me what time Marcone got home from work. I should just be living my life as normal, completely ignoring the fact that the guy just happened to live with me now. 

But on the other hand, someone was trying to kill him. Yeah, I assured myself, it wasn’t about wondering when he’d be home. It was perfectly reasonable for me to be concerned that something bad had happened. After all, if he died, I would be back to having to marry Lara. It made sense to be worried about that.

It was nearly eleven by the time I came to the conclusion that it would be perfectly appropriate for me to check in to make sure that he was still breathing. You could even say it was my responsibility. I picked up the phone and dialed his personal number. 

“Marcone,” a professional, if a bit tired, voice answered. He didn’t sound distressed, at least. 

“Uh, hi,” I said, suddenly feeling extremely awkward. If he wasn’t actually in danger, then I really did just sound like the worried fiance. “It’s me. I just… it’s eleven. I wanted to make sure nothing happened.”

There was a surprised pause. “So, it is. I sometimes lose track of time when I have nowhere to be. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“I wasn’t worried,” I protested too quickly.

I could hear the smile in his voice. “Of course not. I’ll be home soon.”

I absolutely did not wait up on the couch for Marcone. I just happened to be sitting there reading when he walked in.

“Good evening, Harry,” he greeted me, pausing in the doorway of the living room. 

“Don’t call me that,” I said automatically, though perhaps without as much bite as I’ve had in the past. I looked up at him. He did look awfully tired, but he’d apparently worked a fifteen hour day, so I’d be surprised if he didn’t.

“As you wish, Mr. Dresden,” he replied, amused. “I’m going to find myself some dinner.”

“There’re some leftovers in the fridge.” 

He nodded his thanks before walking away. 

I frowned after him for a minute. It was eleven o’clock and the guy hadn’t eaten dinner? I remembered Gard asking me to keep an eye on him, and suddenly wondered if this was the kind of thing she was talking about. I got up and followed Marcone down to the kitchen. 

“You haven’t eaten,” I stated as he began heating up tonight’s leftovers. 

“As I said, I lost track of time,” he explained without looking up at me. 

“Did you at least eat lunch?”

He didn’t answer me.

Stars and stones, Gard hadn’t been kidding. For all that he hid behind a mask of steel, Marcone was hurting right now. And he was spending so much time keeping that mask up, that I rather doubted that he was addressing what he really felt. And that was dangerous, as I knew first hand. You can only keep those kinds of emotions shoved below the surface for so long before they burst out.  

Hendricks had been more than just his employee. He’d been his friend. I wondered if he’d been the one to remind Marcone to take breaks and attend to his human needs. I wouldn’t be surprised. And I didn’t think he had anyone else in his life that he was particularly close to. Gard was just contracted help. He had no one else. Except for me, apparently.

“What would he have to say about that?” I asked softly.

Marcone froze, his entire body going stiff. Very slowly, he looked up at me, his eyes hard and cold. “What did you say to me?” he demanded, his voice quiet and dangerous. 

“You heard me, John,” I said as I paced closer to him. I kept my tone soft and even, stating facts without any heat behind the words. “Nathan gave his life to protect you, and now here you are, not even bothering to take care of yourself. Real nice of you to squander his sacrifice like that.”

I was playing with fire, and I knew it. But kind words wouldn’t get through to Marcone right now. He didn’t want to be coddled. And he didn’t need to be. What he needed was a wake-up call. Something to bring his emotions to the surface, to remind him of his humanity that he kept locked away.

So, I was completely unsurprised when Marcone reared back and punched me in the face. I let him. I just stood there and took it. It was a good punch. If I hadn’t been expecting it, it would’ve taken me down. 

“Don’t talk about him like you knew him.” His voice was level, but the undercurrent of rage was palpable. I knew Marcone. I knew how deadly he was. And right now, he was terrifying. But when had I ever let that stop me?

“I knew him enough,” I said calmly, ignoring how much the mantle wanted me to fight back. “Enough to know that he trusted you would be able to carry on without him. And you’re letting him down.”

I had only once before seen Marcone with his mask completely down like this. Vulnerable. Anger and pain, sorrow and guilt, all shone clearly in his eyes. It was raw, and it almost hurt to look at.

And then he punched me again. Twice in the gut. 

I doubled over with a grunt as the wind left me. “Keep going, John, if it’ll make you feel better.” I met his eyes as I straightened. “I can take it.” 

I saw when his rational thoughts caught up with him. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. When he opened them again, I could practically see him pulling his steel mask back into place. “No, Mr. Dresden. It won’t make me feel better.”

“Then get your shit together, Marcone,” I said fiercely, taking a step closer to him, so that I was in his personal space. “If you need to fall apart, fall apart. You’re safe here. But you not taking care of yourself isn’t an option. You have a city to protect and someone trying to kill you, you need to be at the top of your game. And if you can’t do it for that, can’t do it for yourself, then do it to honor Hendricks’s memory.”

Marcone held my gaze as he breathed in deeply, his eyes unreadable. Then he nodded.

Satisfied, I turned and walked away to leave him to his dinner, fully aware that I had just, in my own way, committed to looking out for Marcone’s wellbeing. But I had already agreed to hold him accountable with Namshiel, and the absence of Hendricks in his life left an easy foothold for the Fallen. Especially if he wasn’t taking care of himself properly. Besides, it was my friends and family that kept me human. What did Marcone have in that regard? Just me.

Chapter Text

Bob didn’t have much helpful information on our list of suspects. Sure, some of them could have power that lined up with the reading he got off the debris, but it wasn’t like it matched anyone’s M.O. He did suggest that maybe it was one of Marcone’s more vanilla enemies who happened to be in the know, and who had hired a magical assassin upon hearing of Marcone’s latest power grab. It was definitely a possibility worth considering. 

So, after dropping Maggie off at the Carpenter’s again, I went to Executive Priority Health, where I knew Marcone was currently working out of. And since it was just around lunch time, I picked up some food from a deli on my way. It wasn’t like I’d been planning that. It was purely a spur-of-the-moment thing. Just out of convenience. Yep. Totally. 

A gorgeous woman greeted me outside the elevator and asked how she could be of assistance. Naturally, when I told her I was there to see Marcone, she said that he wasn’t in. It wasn’t her fault. She was just doing her job. I almost felt bad when I strode right past her and made my way to his office.

“Sir!” the receptionist protested desperately behind me, but I pushed open the door and entered Marcone’s office without knocking. 

Marcone looked up from his desk, his expression equal parts irritation and amusement when he saw me standing there. “Why hello, Mr. Dresden. Won’t you come in?” His gaze shifted to the receptionist, who was sputtering an apology. Poor girl. “It’s alright, Billie. You can go back to your desk.”

I walked over and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk as I heard the door shut behind me. “I brought lunch,” I declared, setting the take-out bag down on his desk as though that was a perfectly normal thing for me to do. 

He blinked, and just maybe his eyes got a little bit wider. “I don’t need you to take care of me, Mr. Dresden,” he murmured softly. 

I shrugged casually. “That’s not what I’m doing. I just needed to talk to you, and I was hungry, so I thought I’d be nice and pick something up for you too.”

It didn’t look like he believed me. I didn’t know why. It was the truth. Nevertheless, he sighed and pulled the sandwiches out of the bag, passing one over to me. “You said you needed to talk to me?”

I motioned to him sternly with my sub. “Eat first. Business second.”

I wasn’t sure if he was more exasperated or amused, but he listened. Getting John Marcone to listen to me - I’d take that as a win. 

We didn’t talk as we ate, and I could practically see Marcone twitching to get back to work. And I thought I could be a workaholic. Talk about someone who needed to take a break. Maybe I could get him to take off for a honeymoon… I brought that train of thought screeching to a halt before it could go any further. I already had enough embarrassing thoughts about Marcone without adding fantasies of a honeymoon into the mix. 

“Alright, now what did you need to discuss?” Marcone asked as soon as we’d both finished our food, and not a second later. 

I rolled my eyes. “Gard gave me some debris from your car. I’ve been working on analyzing it.”

“Were you able to get something from it?”

“Not much,” I admitted. “A powerful magic signature mixed with a bit of hellfire, but-”

“What?” he cut me off sharply, straightening in his chair. 

I frowned, confused. “You didn’t think it was magic?”

“Not that,” he dismissed impatiently. “The hellfire.” 

I blinked, the gears in my brain turning as I explained. “I figured Namshiel was infusing your magic with hellfire, same as Lash did for me….”

Marcone was already shaking his head. “I didn’t cast anything.”

The gears clicked into place and my eyes went wide as I realized what we must be dealing with. “Hell's bells,” I swore. “It’s a Denarian.”

A moment later, a silver coin appeared in Marcone’s hand. He slipped the attached chain over his head and those unsettling violet eyes opened on his forehead. “What’s your take?” 

I glared at the eyes as a voice similar to Marcone’s, but more British-sounding, came through his lips. “I could make a guess, but it seems smart to first hear what your wizard discovered.”

“I’m not his wizard,” I snarled. 

I somehow got the impression that Namshiel rolled his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that. What could you tell from the magical signature?” 

“Just that it was powerful, but messy,” I shared a bit reluctantly. Working with Denarians wasn’t something I was a stranger to, and it wasn’t something I enjoyed. “Someone doesn’t know how to practice restraint.”

“Aside from yourself?” Marcone murmured in his normal voice. 

I lowered my glare to him. First Bob, now Marcone. I could show restraint, dammit! 

“Stop flirting,” Namshiel chastised irritably. “This isn’t good. It’s Tessa.”

My eyes narrowed. “Huh. Your old boss. Imagine that.” 

“I’m hardly working for her now, am I?”

“That remains to be seen. Why’s she targeting Marcone?” I demanded. 

“I can’t read her bloody mind!” he said exasperatedly. “But if I had to guess, I’d say she’s none too happy with you right now. In her eyes, you took her daughter from her. So now she wants to take something you love from you. Disrupting a powerful alliance that could benefit humanity is just a bonus.”

I couldn’t ignore the fear that twisted through me at that statement. But- “I don’t love Marcone!”

“You’re marrying him. And the way you two fight would look a lot like love from Tessa’s perspective. And she also might know or suspect that my host was in on what happened to poor Deirdre.” His voice twisted with sarcasm at the last bit.

I shook my head. Given what I’d seen of Tessa’s relationship with her husband, he was probably right. “And how do you fit into all of this?”

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, spinyboy,” I growled. I got up from my chair and walked around the desk to loom over Namshiel/Marcone. “You really expect me to believe your former boss is targeting your current host and you have nothing to do with it? She doesn’t know you’re here?” 

“Well, if she hasn’t noticed I’m here yet, I’m sure she will soon enough,” Namshiel said calmly as he also got to his feet, facing me down. “And that will just be another reason for her to want him dead.”

“Explain,” both Marcone and I said at the same time. 

“You’ve seen the kinds of people Tessa keeps in her crew,” Namshiel said to me.

“She prefers brawn over brain,” I remembered. 

He nodded. “She chooses weak hosts, so that we end up in complete control. She wouldn’t want me paired with someone I have a working partnership with. It allows me too much free will so I don’t. Have to listen. To her.” His voice had taken on a bit of a growl at the end. “Believe me, the last thing I want is for Tessa to regain possession of my coin. I’m quite happy with my arrangement.” 

“You’d better be telling the truth,” I hissed, taking a step closer. “Because if you get Marcone hurt. If I even get the slightest inkling that you’re trying to twist him into something he’s not. That soulfire smackdown I gave you is going to feel like a high-five in comparison to what I’ll do to you.” 

Namshiel snarled, his hand twitched, and then green eyes hardened in anger. 

“Stop,” Marcone ordered sharply, absolute authority in his voice.

Even I froze at that, but I quickly realized that he hadn’t been talking to me. Namshiel’s violet eyes glared at me for half a second before flickering out.

Marcone’s eyes met mine, and there was something in them that I couldn’t quite place. Surprise, maybe. Curiosity. Gratitude. Whatever it was, the look was strong enough, and we were standing close enough, that I wondered if he was going to kiss me. 

If he did, I wondered if I would let him.

I jumped when the phone on the desk buzzed. “Mr. Marcone?”

Marcone’s businessman mask was instantly in place again as he shifted his attention to the phone’s intercom. “Yes, Billie?”

“There is a man requesting to be buzzed in. He said I should tell you he’s a friend of your fiance.” She sounded confused and a little worried. She really was having quite the day. 

But… which of my friends would be paying a visit to Marcone? He looked over at me, clearly asking the same question. I just shrugged. 

“Buzz him in and direct him to my office,” he instructed, loosening his tie in order to slip the thin chain under his shirt.

“Yes, sir,” she replied before the line went dead.

“You should just get rid of that,” I muttered, glaring at where the coin had disappeared beneath Marcone’s shirt. “If his response to being told not to hurt you is to attack…”

Marcone was shaking his head. “That is not what prompted his response. It was the threat of soulfire. He’s rather put out by your ability to wield it.”

Oh, yeah. I remembered the absolute hatred that had poured from the Denarian on Demonreach. That tracked. “Still?” 

He nodded. “I don’t feel it wise for him to speak on this matter, so I’ll paraphrase. He believes you are twisting the forces of creation to your will with no understanding or respect for what it is. That you have bound a primal force of the universe to your soul in an attempt to rival the power of celestial beings - something that he sees as the highest form of insult. His interpretation does paint you as rather arrogant.”

I took a moment to process that. A lot of Namshiel’s issues with me sounded… familiar. Magic was the life-force of the universe, a culmination of the energy generated by all living beings. It was a beautiful and awe-inspiring force. And yet I had seen so many instances of people twisting it into something hideous, using it for their own personal gain. It was disgusting. It wasn’t the same, not by a longshot, but to my surprise, I thought I could understand where Namshiel was coming from. 

“He’s wrong,” I said, not that I cared what Namshiel thought of me. But if we were going to be working together to some extent, I needed to know we wouldn’t have issues if I threw some soulfire at another Denarian in front of him. I wasn’t sure I could entirely prevent it, but I could try to explain, and maybe he would understand. “I didn’t bind this power to my will. It was gifted to me. By an archangel.” I saw Marcone’s eyes widen slightly at that. “And yeah, at first, I had no freaking idea what it was. When I fought spinyboy, it came out of nowhere. But then it was explained to me, and… I understand. I respect it. And I don’t use it willy-nilly.” 

Marcone was silent as he, I assumed, conferred with Namshiel. “He still thinks you’re arrogant,” he finally said, a wry smile twisting his lips. “A point that I find myself unable to argue.”

“Well, as long as we’re all on the same page,” I said with a shrug.

He chuckled. “Though I am curious as to how you came to be gifted power by an archangel.” 

“I’m sure you are,” I said amiably, giving him my best obnoxious smile.

His eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, there was a knock at the office door, and then it opened to reveal Michael Carpenter.

I blinked in surprise. “Michael?”

“Harry, I didn’t know you were here,” he said as he walked into the room, letting the door fall shut behind him. “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Marcone.”

“You could have given my receptionist your name, Mr. Carpenter,” Marcone pointed out as he reclaimed his seat, leaving me standing awkwardly beside him. “Please, have a seat,” he added, motioning to the chairs across from him.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be willing to see me,” Michael admitted as he took a seat. “Given the company you keep.”

“I see.” His annoyed gaze flickered to me.

I shrugged. “I needed to talk to someone about it. And be grateful, he talked me out of killing you.” 

“From attempting to kill me, you mean. There’s no guarantee you would have succeeded.” He also didn’t automatically assume I’d fail, I noted. Marcone was smarter than that. He turned back to Michael, steepling his fingers in front of him. “I have no qualms speaking with you, Mr. Carpenter. What can I do for you?” 

“Michael, please,” he corrected politely. “Christmas is next week, and I’m not sure if Harry has mentioned that he and Maggie are spending Christmas Eve into Christmas with us.” 

“He hasn’t,” Marcone said, while I frowned at Michael, trying to figure out where he was going with this. “But I had no plans to steal him for the holiday. I won’t interfere with your plans.” 

Michael smiled patiently. “I wasn’t worried about that. I’m actually here to invite you to join us, as well.”

My eyes went wide and my mouth might have dropped open slightly. I hadn’t really thought much about how being engaged to Marcone would affect Christmas. As I’d thought the previous night, I was trying to let this whole situation affect my life as little as possible. But engaged couples did typically spend holidays together. I was sure Maggie would expect that. But even if I had had that thought, I’d never have even contemplated inviting him to the Carpenter’s. The house was literally guarded by angels, and even though Marcone wouldn’t be stupid enough to wear the coin there, talk about being on different sides.

“Why would you want me at your Christmas celebration?” Marcone asked carefully, restraining his surprise. 

“Harry is family, and you’re going to be married to him,” Michael explained simply. “That makes you family, too.”

Marcone went completely still. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew it would be that perfect, unreadable mask. And I also knew that it was there to cover up his utter shock at Michael’s declaration.

“Charity cool with this?” I asked to buy him time to recover, perching on the edge of the desk.

Michael nodded. “Of course. It was her idea.”

I tried to picture Charity Carpenter suggesting inviting the mob boss to Christmas. I couldn’t.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Marcone finally said stiffly. He was so much out of his element, I would almost be tempted to say it was adorable. Almost.

“You wouldn’t be,” Michael assured.

Marcone turned to me, perhaps hoping that I would get him out of this. But tough luck, Johnny-boy. I’d committed to keeping him human, and forcing him to spend Christmas alone wouldn’t help with that. “Maggie will expect you there,” I pointed out. 

He sighed. “I will… consider it.”

Michael nodded, satisfied. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’ll walk you out,” I offered, rising from the desk. On our way out of the room, I paused, looking back at Marcone. “I’ll do some digging. Try to track her down before she makes another move.” I let my mouth twist up into a teasing smile. “Just try to be home at a reasonable hour.” 

I’d said it to annoy him, but I think he was more surprised than anything. Guess I’d have to up my game.

I caught Michael’s grin as we exited the office. “What?” I demanded. 

He shook his head. “I didn’t expect the two of you to already be so… domestic.” 

“We’re not domestic!” I protested, feeling heat rising to my face. “It was just after eleven by the time he got home last night, and someone tried to kill him three days ago! I was perfectly justified in being worried.”

Michael was laughing as we stepped into the elevator. “I think Charity will find some satisfaction in knowing you’re experiencing something of what she felt whenever I was out late helping you.”

“That- that’s not the same! I’m not worried about his wellbeing. If he dies, I’m back to square one!” 

“Of course, Harry,” he said good-naturedly, but that damned smile was still in place.

I crossed my arms and grumbled to myself about stupid mob bosses and arranged marriage. Michael didn’t say anything else until we exited the building. 

“You said someone tried to kill him?” he asked more seriously. 

“Yep,” I muttered bitterly. I slowed down as we reached the parking lot, turning to face my friend. “Tessa’s in town.”

Michael swore. “She wants Namshiel’s coin back.” 

“I’m sure that’s part of it,” I agreed. I refused to believe that she didn’t know exactly what Marcone was. “She also wants revenge on me. And to stop the alliance. Three birds, one stone.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “Are you sure this isn’t a ruse? And Marcone’s actually working for her?” 

I considered that. There was nothing stopping him from lying to me about the true nature of his relationship with Namshiel. And if that was the case, there was every possibility that he was also lying about the attack. Gard had been inside when it happened. Marcone was the only witness. But…

I shook my head. “He’s still himself. And Marcone doesn’t take orders from someone else. Especially not someone as crazy as Tessa.”

Michael nodded, questioning my judgment without question. “You know, chances are she’s probably not here alone.” 

“Course she isn't. When do I ever get off that easy?”

“I’ll fill Butters in,” he assured. “See if Sanya’s in the area.”

“Thanks.” I wouldn’t be surprised if Sanya was already rolling into town, with the way the Knights of the Cross just happened to turn up whenever Denarians were afoot. Then again, maybe it would be different this time around, since we were essentially protecting one of their own. Were the Knights even allowed to do that? Because if not, Marcone and I were on our own.

Chapter Text

From what I knew about Tessa, she wouldn’t just be sitting around with her thumb up her ass, but even with the looming threat, the Wizard of Chicago couldn’t shirk his responsibilities just because his fiance was in danger. It was a balancing act, for sure, and I half-expected Mab to show up with a job for the Winter Knight, just to pile it on. I was trying to get some backup to help track down Tessa before she struck again, but so far, I wasn’t having any luck.

“Sanya’s still held up,” Butters informed me over the phone. “Travel to and from Chicago still isn’t easy, after everything. And the holidays are just making it worse.”

I grunted in acknowledgement. As humanity was explaining it, there had been a terrorist attack on Chicago, so of course they were squirrely about who entered and left the city. “Maybe this is God’s way of saying this isn’t a job for the Knights.”

“I could come back,” he offered hesitantly. Honestly, I hadn’t been all that surprised to learn that Butters was visiting family for Hanukkah. If the Knights were meant to be here, they’d be here. And they weren’t. I got the message loud and clear: This was my problem.

“No, family’s important,” I said firmly. “You should be there.”

“I’ll be back next week. I promised Andi and Marci I’d be home for Christmas.”

“Jewish-Werewolf Christmas?” I asked with a grin. 

Butters chuckled. “Something like that. But let me know if you need anything, Harry. I’ll help however I can.” 

“I know you will, man,” I sighed. “Enjoy your time with family. You’ve more than earned it.” 

“So have you.” I could hear the sad smile in his voice. “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Happy Hanukkah.” I hung up the phone with a sigh. 

After Ethniu, Tessa really shouldn’t seem like that big of a deal. But I was tired, dammit! I just wanted a break. And the fact remained that she was the second-oldest Denarian, and she didn’t become that by collecting bottle caps. She was formidable. And it was looking like I didn’t have any backup. 

But, as Mab had pointed out, Ethniu’s downfall had been that she’d made it personal. And if Namshiel was right, this was personal for Tessa. Which meant she wasn’t thinking clearly. Which meant I had a chance. Not a great chance, but a chance. And that had been enough for me before. 

As the week went by and Tessa still hadn’t reared her ugly, insectoid head, I really started to wonder what she was playing at. I’d taken to swinging by to check on Marcone while he was working, to make sure he wasn’t under attack. And if those visits just happened to take place around lunchtime, that was purely coincidental. It irritated the hell out of him, which just made me more inclined to keep up with the check-ins.

“I just don’t get it,” I said through a mouthful of Burger King. Yes, I’d brought Marcone Burger King because just because I was bringing him lunch, it didn’t mean I was playing nice. “Tessa isn’t the patient, plotting type. What’s she playing at?”

Marcone gave me an annoyed look and deliberately swallowed his fry before talking. “That may be so, but she also isn’t stupid.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Her first attack was clearly a clumsy, desperate attempt to kill me before our engagement announcement. It is official now, and not only that, but I’m living with the Winter Knight.”

“And you think that scared her off?” I asked skeptically. Sure, I could handle my own, and I’d beaten her before, but there was no chance one of the most powerful evils I’d faced was afraid of me. 

The look Marcone gave me was absolutely incredulous. “Really, Dresden? Have you not realized what time of year it is?” 

I blinked, confused. Then it clicked. “It’s the week of the Winter Solstice,” I breathed.

“The height of Winter’s power,” Marcone nodded. “She’s not dumb enough to take on a public ally of Mab’s at the height of her power, and especially not one guarded by the Winter Knight. I imagine we have a few more weeks before we have to worry about her again. Though, obviously, if we can head her off before then, that would be preferable.” 

I sagged in relief. We’d still need to be cautious, of course, but at least now I didn’t feel I was missing a giant danger right in front of my face. I had time to rally the troops and track Tessa down before shit hit the fan.

“So you can stop it with the lunch visits,” Marcone continued sternly. 

I rolled my eyes. “What? You don’t like seeing me, Johnny?” I batted my eyelashes obnoxiously. 

He narrowed his eyes in irritation. “Not while I’m trying to work.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I only come during those lunch breaks you said you’d take,” I said with a smirk. 

He gave an exasperated sigh. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re a criminal scumbag,” I replied with a shrug. “If we’re done stating the obvious….”

He shook his head, but I was pretty sure I caught a glint of amusement in his eyes. It was something I’d started to notice every now and then when I cracked a joke or insulted him, and I had a growing suspicion that he actually enjoyed our banter. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but it was probably a good thing it didn’t make him want to kill me, seeing as we would be spending a lot more time together for the foreseeable future. And I definitely wasn’t going to stop.

“Christmas Eve is tomorrow,” I mentioned a couple minutes later, as we were finishing our lunch. “Maggie asked if you were coming.”

Marcone was silent for a minute, staring down at his desk. “I can come Christmas morning,” he finally said quietly, as though he couldn’t quite believe he was saying the words. “If you and the Carpenter’s are sure you want me there,” he added, looking up at me. 

“They wouldn’t have invited you if they weren’t sure,” I pointed out, ignoring my own inclusion in the statement. Because did I want to celebrate Christmas with John Marcone? Hell no. But it would be good for appearances, both publicly and with Maggie. And also… no one should be alone on Christmas. Not even Marcone. 

Marcone’s answering hum informed me that he hadn’t missed the exclusion. Nevertheless, he said, “Very well. I will be there.”

*

Christmas morning at the Carpenter’s was pure chaos, but in the best way possible. All of the kids had come home for the holiday, along with Daniel’s wife and newborn son. Seeing Michael and Charity wrangling everyone in the living room was one of the most impressive sights I’ve seen to date. It also made me grateful that I just had Maggie and Bonea to worry about. 

The doorbell rang, and Molly, being the closest to the door, shouted, “I’ll get it!”

From where I was sitting, I could just make out the silhouette of Marcone on the doorstep. Surprisingly, I was happy to see him. After our conversation yesterday, I’d been a little worried that he wouldn’t show and I’d have to explain it to Maggie. But I should have known better. Marcone never backed down from a commitment.  

“Well, merry Christmas, Baron Marcone!” There was laughter in Molly’s voice as she greeted him, then stepped to the side, hand on hip and her eyes dancing. I noted that she didn’t actually invite him in and felt a rush of pride in my former apprentice. Even though, if he’d had the coin on him, he’d have never made it past the angelic garrison guarding the house.

“Merry Christmas, Lady Molly,” Marcone replied politely as he stepped inside. He was dressed down, for him, in dark jeans and a smoky-green button-up, and he was carrying a couple of gift bags and some kind of dish. 

“Please. It’s just Molly today.” She closed the door behind him and then offered out her hands. “I can take that to the kitchen. And the gifts can go under the tree.”

“Thank you, Miss Molly.”

She rolled her eyes at his formality, but took the dish and ran it back to the kitchen.

Marcone turned and took in the rest of the room. To the casual eye, he looked as composed as ever with a public-relations smile, but he was out of his element, overwhelmed, and… hell's bells, he was afraid. John Marcone had faced down a Titan without blinking, but facing the prospect of a family Christmas had him terrified.

I caught his eye and gave him a small, reassuring smile. His shoulders seemed to relax slightly and he began to move towards me. He didn’t make it more than a couple of steps, though, before Maggie ran up to him, grinning from ear to ear. 

“You made it!” she exclaimed. 

He blinked. He’d interacted with my daughter a fair amount since moving in, but I don’t think it had ever occurred to him that she actually enjoyed his presence. I was kind of in denial about it, myself. “I did,” he replied, quickly composing himself again. “Merry Christmas, Miss Maggie.”

“Merry Christmas, Mr. Marcone!” Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she drew in an excited breath before continuing. “Guess what?!”

“What?” he asked with a patient smile. I could almost see him choosing to block out everyone else in the room, and just focusing on Maggie, as he would at home. I couldn’t hold back a smile at that. 

“Santa Claus brought me a bike! I saw him!”

“Really, now?” He glanced over at me.

I gave a small shrug. “She speaks the truth.”

“I can’t wait to hear more about it.”

Satisfied to have delivered the news, Maggie ran over and practically threw herself into my lap. I chuckled to cover up a grunt as I happily wrapped my arms around her. 

“I’m glad you could make it, Marcone,” Michael said pleasantly. “I would come greet you, but…” he waved a hand at little Harry, curled up against his side in the corner of the sectional. On his other side, Charity sat doting over her new grandson, but she gave Marcone a friendly enough smile.

Marcone inclined his head. “Of course. Thank you for the invitation.” He set his presents down at the edge of the flood beneath the tree, then his eyes swept over the room again. On the other side of his mom, Daniel was eyeing Marcone with a fair amount of suspicion, though to his credit, he was trying to be subtle about it, while he kept the majority of his attention focused on his wife at his side. Matthew and Alicia were whispering to each other on the other side of the sectional, and given Matthew’s furtive glance in Marcone’s direction, it was easy to guess what they were talking about. Amanda seemed to be deliberately ignoring the mob boss as she plucked the stockings off the mantle and began passing them out to her siblings. Hope was looking between Marcone and myself curiously, only stopping when Molly returned to squeeze into the armchair beside her.

I took pity on him. I scooted to the edge of the small couch Maggie and I had claimed and patted the space beside me. “Come on, John. Plenty of room.” 

He nodded his thanks and walked over to sit next to me. It was a tight squeeze. It was one of those seats that was somewhere between a large armchair and a loveseat, but we could both fit on it comfortably enough. Even if it meant that our legs were pressed up against each other.

“Bill,” Amanda said, offering me a stocking. 

I blinked in surprise. “I get a stocking?”

“You didn’t think I was going to leave you out, did you?” Charity asked in mock-offense. “I apologize, Mr. Marcone, I didn’t have time to put together a whole stocking for you, so yours has been combined with Harry’s.” 

“That is… more than fine,” Marcone assured, the slightest bit of emotion slipping out beneath his mask. I wondered when the last time he’d had a family Christmas was. How long had it been since he’d had a family to celebrate with? I didn’t know much about his past, nothing about his family, aside from that they hadn’t had much. But I did know what it was like to think you’d never feel the warmth of family again, and how overwhelming it was when that love was poured out on you. 

I leaned into Marcone without really thinking about it, offering my support. “You get used to it,” I said under my breath as Amanda handed Maggie her stocking and moved on. 

He nodded, taking a deep breath before he looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Bill?” 

I shrugged, making my voice vaguely mysterious. “One of my many names.” 

After stockings, everyone took turns opening presents. Maggie squealed when she opened the kid’s baking set from Marcone, complete with her own various kitchen tools, recipe book, and an apron and chef’s hat, both personalized with her name. She’d been having a lot of fun experimenting in the kitchen as of late, and I had to admit, he did good. 

Kringle had already taken credit for the bike I’d gotten her and spent all night assembling, but I had another gift that I’d spent even more time on. Her eyes went wide as she saw the silver, pentacle necklace that perfectly matched mine, and I couldn’t express how delighted I was when she immediately put it on. I was almost as, if not equally, delighted when I opened my gift from her - a shirt with Darth Vader on it that read “#1 Dad” and a small keychain that she had made. She had also made a keychain for Marcone, much to his surprise. There were also plenty of clothes, books, games, and all of that fun stuff to go around. 

Once everyone had opened their presents, things dissolved into chaos again as everyone took to playing with their gifts. Little Harry had gotten the game King of Tokyo, so I played a round with him, Maggie, Hope, Amanda, and Michael, while Marcone watched with vague amusement as I got really into character pretending to be the monster I was playing as. I lost. Horribly. But it was fun. 

Eventually, Michael, Charity, Marcone, and I escaped to the kitchen, while the Carpenter kids plus Maggie and Mouse took over the living room and den. 

“Hanging in there?” Michael asked with a smile as he offered Marcone a glass of eggnog. 

Marcone nodded and took the offered glass. “You have a beautiful family.”

“Thank you. I’m rather fond of them.” He passed me some eggnog as well, and we all settled around the table. 

“I’m exhausted,” I sighed. 

Michael laughed. “The day’s only halfway through.”

I let out a groan, but I was smiling. Even as exhausted as I was, I knew I would treasure every moment of this day, and I didn’t want to wish a second of it away. 

“Is this your first Christmas with her?” Marcone asked curiously as he made himself a plate from a fancy meat-and-cheese tray that Charity had set out in the middle of the table. I recognized it as the dish he had brought with him.

“Yeah,” I answered, swiping a slice of salami from his plate. “No pressure.”

He rolled his eyes, added a bit more to his plate, and then slid it to sit on the table between us. “It seems to me that you’re doing an excellent job. It looks like she’s having a great Christmas.”

My smile grew slightly. “Yeah, it does,” I agreed.

Michael, Charity, and I visited for a while, and Marcone even chimed in a bit. Eventually Daniel and his wife joined us after putting their baby down for a nap. I could tell that Marcone was still uncomfortable in the family setting, but he did his best to appear relaxed and engaged in polite conversation. Maggie even got him to play a game of Exploding Kittens with us before dinner, which had been gifted to her by Alicia.

Speaking of dinner, it was delicious. Not that I had expected anything less from Charity’s cooking. The woman had a gift.

By the time we got home, the day was just starting to catch up with Maggie. She had enough energy to help me present Mister with his gift of a cat bed that he would never sleep in, but that Maggie had wanted him to have (Mouse got a matching dog bed/human mattress, but he had received it that morning), and then we revealed to Bonea a new skull that Maggie had helped me to design. Her original skull had been rather rudimentary, just created from the tools and resources I had had available to me on Demonreach; but this one I’d spent way more time making look pretty with the runes carved into it artfully, and Maggie had painted it purple and white. Bonea loved it.

After that, Maggie went to read in bed with her sister, and I was debating if I wanted to dig into one of my new books, or if I would rather just collapse into bed. 

“Dresden.”

I turned to see Marcone standing in the doorway of his room, holding an envelope. “Hey. Thanks for coming today,” I said sincerely as I walked up to him. “It meant a lot to Maggie.”

His lips twitched up into a small smile. “I should’ve known that any daughter of yours was going to push me past my limits.”

I laughed. “I taught her well.”

“You did.” He offered the envelope out to me. “I didn’t want to give you your present in front of everyone.” 

“Oh.” I blinked down at the envelope as I hesitantly took it from him. “Um… I didn’t get you anything.” Were we supposed to get each other gifts? I mean, sure, normal fiances would, but this entire thing was just political. It made sense that he got something for Maggie for appearances sake, and the expensive wine he gave to Michael and Charity was basically just a thank-you for inviting him. Why would he get me something?

“I didn’t expect you to,” he assured with that same small smile. 

I sighed and opened the envelope. Inside was… a bank statement? I frowned. And then I saw the name. 

“That is a savings account in Maggie’s name,” Marcone explained. “For school tuition, braces, any other expenses that come up.”

I looked at the number and blanched. I was shaking my head. “I can’t accept this.”

“Too bad. It’s done.”

I looked up at him, aghast. “I didn’t even get you anything,” I repeated, as though that would make him see reason.

“You have done enough for me, Dresden,” he said firmly. “Goodnight.”

Before I could say another word, he stepped into his room and shut the door, leaving me in the hall, staring at the bank account balance with far too many zeros. What the hell?

Chapter Text

I slept well that night. It wasn’t often I was so exhausted after a day that didn’t involve a near death experience. It was a nice change of pace. 

I checked in on Maggie once I woke up the next morning. She was still sound asleep, the Christmas excitement having taken a lot out of her. Mouse lifted his head from his new dog bed, but I shushed him and pulled the door shut again. I think I could call that first Christmas a success.

I was still smiling a bit as I walked into the kitchen. Then I froze. 

Despite his first morning here, Marcone hadn’t made a habit of making breakfast in the mornings. He’d done it the first day more for Maggie, I suspected. The second time was over the weekend, again before rushing out the door because the guy never took a day off. But both of those times he’d already been dressed and ready for the day. Today was different.

It looked like Marcone had just rolled out of bed. He was wearing light grey joggers and a white t-shirt, and his normally immaculately styled hair was carelessly disheveled. I remembered the first time I’d seen the mob boss dressed casually, how my brain had stopped functioning as I struggled to process the sight. This was worse. How many people had seen him like this, I wondered. Quite possibly no one alive.

I wasn’t sure how long I just stood there and stared before I realized how creepy I probably looked doing so. I cleared my throat. “What’chu making?” I asked, forcing my voice to be casual. 

Marcone turned to face me, and damn it, he looked even better from the front. “Biscuits and gravy.” 

“Mm,” I managed. My brain had stopped working again. His shirt must have ridden up while reaching for something in one of the higher cabinets, and he hadn’t bothered to fix it. Coupled with how low his joggers were sitting… who knew hip bones could be so attractive? 

“Mr. Dresden?” Marcone’s amused hum brought me back to my senses, and I jerked my gaze back up to his face. There was obvious laughter in his eyes, and I could feel my cheeks heating up. 

“Um… are you not working today?” I asked in a poor attempt to cover up my embarrassment. 

“I am,” he answered easily, his silent laughter dissolving as he allowed me to steer the conversation away from myself. “I wanted a slower morning, but I need to at least check in after taking off yesterday.”

It surprised me that he so easily let me off the hook for obviously checking him out. Then again, he also hadn’t questioned me about just how enthusiastically I’d kissed him at our engagement party. So, maybe he was as ready to ignore our mutual attraction as I was. Which did line up with what he’d said about avoiding entanglements with people he might be attracted to. I think we both could have been very happy ignoring our attraction indefinitely, if it weren’t for the fact that we were getting married in six months. I had a sinking feeling that things would become a little harder (ha ha) to ignore on our wedding night.

“No rest for the wicked, huh?” I said with a wry grin. 

“It is an apt saying,” he admitted, turning back to the bowl he was mixing up the biscuit dough in. 

“Need any help?” I offered. I didn’t really want to just stand there watching John Marcone make me breakfast. Okay, maybe some part of me wanted that, but that part was stupid and didn't get a vote.

He glanced over his shoulder at me, seeming to consider it before he shrugged. “If you wouldn’t mind starting on the gravy.”

“Sure thing.” I walked over and got to work beside him. 

“Thank you, Dresden.”

My mouth did that thing where it moved without consulting my brain. “You know, we’re getting married, I think you can call me Harry.”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eyes, and his lips twitched. “As you wish, Harry. And not that you have ever needed my permission, but you can call me John.” 

“Sure thing, Johnny,” I said with my best shit-eating grin. 

He sighed in exasperation, but didn’t comment.

After a couple minutes of preparing breakfast in silence, I spoke hesitantly. “Hey, so… about my Christmas present…”

Marcone sighed. “The money is her’s, I’m not taking it back.”

“No, I know.” I knew Marcone well enough to know there was no point in trying to give the money back. “But… why?”

He paused in his mixing, looking up at me. “I knew you wouldn’t accept anything for yourself, and you prefer practical gifts. Something for Maggie’s future was the obvious choice.”

I shook my head. “But why give me anything, in the first place? This isn’t real.” I gestured between us to indicate our relationship.

“I’m aware,” he acknowledged, turning back to his mixing bowl. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t appreciated the effort you have put in.”

Huh. I supposed I had been putting in more effort than I strictly needed to, making sure Marcone was safe and was taking care of himself. But it was for my best interest that he was alive and that Namshiel didn’t have any footholds. And personally, checking in on the guy still didn’t warrant that kind of gift in my book. I guess Marcone’s math was different from mine - go figure.

“I thought you didn’t like my lunch visits,” I teased as I returned to stirring the sausage.

“I don’t,” Marcone admitted. “But I respect the intention, even if the visits are tedious and unnecessary.”

“Would you remember to eat if I didn’t?” I challenged.

“With the threat of your company if I don’t, I think I can manage to remember,” he assured with a wry smile.

“So, you’re saying I can take your word on that and leave you alone, or I can keep showing up and bothering you,” I mused, smirking. “I gotta say, John, that’s a tough choice.”

He shook his head, but the ghost of a smile was still in place. “Do what you want. I know if I try to stop you, I’ll just make it worse.”

I gave an exaggerated gasp. “Are you admitting defeat?”

His smile grew as he put down a dusting of flour over some parchment paper. “On the contrary, by choosing not to indulge your juvenile antics, I’m taking the high road, which could be seen as a victory.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

He rolled his eyes as he dumped out the biscuit dough and set to rolling it out, pointedly not taking the bait. I chose to take him giving up as a victory for me and let it drop.

The biscuits were just going into the oven, when I heard the sound of small footsteps behind us, coupled with heavier steps with an extra set of paws. I turned around to see Maggie with a pleased smile on her face, Mouse by her side. “Good morning, punkin.”

“Morning, Dad! Morning, Mr. Marcone!” 

“Good morning, Miss Maggie,” Marcone said, turning to give her a warm smile. 

I seized my opportunity and flicked a handful of flour at him. Maggie giggled.

He blinked at me in sheer disbelief that I would do something like that to the likes of him, but before I could properly gloat, his expression shifted into a smile that was sharp and predatory. “Maggie, could you assist me, please?”

“Wha-?”

Suddenly, Maggie ran up and wrapped her arms around as much of my legs as she could, preventing my escape. And while I was distracted by that, I got a faceful of flour from Marcone.

“That’s not fair!” I spluttered through a puff of flour. But Maggie was laughing so much that it was hard not to smile.

“You started it,” Marcone pointed out smugly.

I was just going to stick my tongue out at him, but then my childish instincts kicked into overdrive and I licked his face. He froze at that, staring at me with eyes slightly wider than normal. I smirked in victory.

I left Marcone to finish the gravy and went to wash the flour off my face, and then decided to go ahead and shower while I was at it. By the time I got back to the kitchen, breakfast was ready, and Marcone was seated at the table across from Maggie. She appeared to be in the middle of telling him all about seeing Kringle on Christmas Eve, while he listened with interest. I smiled at the sight, as I went to make my plate. 

“And then he said, ‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night,’ just like in the book!”

“That sounds like quite the sight.”

“Dad saw it, too. Right, Dad?” 

“Sure did,” I confirmed, dumping gravy over my biscuits before making my way over to the table. 

“Do you think you’ll stay over for Christmas Eve next year?” Maggie asked, turning her attention back to Marcone. “It’s a lot of fun, and maybe you’ll get to see Santa!”

“We’ll see,” Marcone hedged, and upon seeing Maggie’s face fall just slightly, quickly add, “I can promise you I will do my best to be there.”

My daughter beamed at him. 

Meanwhile, I had come to a stop, blinking at the scene before me. Yeah, Marcone would be around for Christmas next year. And the year after that. And so on. He was going to be a permanent fixture in our lives.

I’d thought, at first, that the marriage would just be a public thing. That, while I would honor our vows because I had to, Marcone would do his own thing. But here he was, eating breakfast with my daughter, and planning to be at future Christmases. He didn’t have to be putting in so much effort with her. But here he was. 

And I realized with a shock that I liked it. I liked seeing Maggie and Marcone laughing and smiling together. I liked knowing that he would take care of her. I liked all of us eating meals together. I liked… our family. Because Michael and Charity were right, Marcone was family, now. And the way that thought warmed my heart wasn’t something I wanted to look at too closely, at the moment. 

“Everything okay, Dad?” Maggie asked, looking up at me. 

I smiled at her. “Yeah. Just… enjoying the moment,” I said as I sat down next to Marcone. He gave me a curious look, but didn’t comment.

I allowed myself to enjoy eating breakfast together without overthinking things. There’d be plenty of time for that later. And when Maggie ran off to play with some of her new toys, I didn’t immediately make an excuse to leave Marcone’s presence. It was weird how normal it felt.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Santa Claus exists,” Marcone commented once we were alone at the table. 

I looked at him in surprise, a slow grin spreading over my face. “You don’t know?”

He frowned. “Don’t know what?” 

I laughed. A lot. Enough that I could see Marcone getting frustrated. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just… big, bad Marcone who never misses anything… and you’ve known him longer than I have!”

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” he complained, his frown deepening. 

“Vadderung!” I choked through the laughter. “Vadderung is Santa.” 

Marcone blinked. “Vadderung is Odin,” he said slowly. 

“Yeah,” I agreed, my laughter finally subsiding. “And Santa. And maybe some other mantles that I don’t even know about.”

He shook his head slowly. “That… I did not expect.”

“Oh, so you don’t know everything, huh?” I taunted.

“I never claimed to know everything, Harry,” he sighed. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t try to learn.” He rose to his feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get ready for the day.”

“Hey.” I acted without thinking and grabbed his hand before he could walk away. His eyes were noticeably wider as he looked down at our hands, and then to my face. Sensing a bit of a threat in that look, I quickly released his hand. “Uh, thank you for putting in so much effort with Maggie,” I said without quite looking at him.

He gave a sharp nod. “You’re welcome,” he said curtly, then immediately pivoted and walked away. I watched as he took his plate to the sink and then left the room, his movements as precise and calculated as always. 

I shouldn’t have grabbed his hand, I knew that. The gesture was far too intimate and implied a kind of relationship that we didn’t have. A kind of relationship I knew Marcone wouldn’t want. I’d seen that plain as day in what the Arithi showed me. All Marcone wanted from me was sex. But… why did that thought leave me feeling bitter and disappointed?

However good he was with Maggie, it didn’t change what Marcone was. A criminal. An evil bastard who had gotten where he was through capitalizing on the misery of others and trampling over anyone who got in his way. He was a predator, first and foremost. He was ruthless. Sure, he tried to minimize the spillover of his criminal activities, but that didn’t change that what he did hurt a lot of people. And he didn’t bat an eye at that. While I was enjoying his company, I couldn’t forget that. Couldn’t forget that, in the end, he was just another monster.

Chapter Text

I decided to honor Marcone’s wishes and stopped bringing him lunch over the next week. We were still so close to the Winter Solstice, and I hadn’t caught any sign of Tessa moving. He was a big boy mobster, he could take care of himself. And maybe I was also trying to make sure that some walls were still firmly in place between us. Things were already complicated enough without me blurring the lines.

I had taken to reading in the living room until he got home, though. We never exchanged more than a terse greeting when he got home, but I was able to go to bed with the peace of mind that he hadn’t gotten himself killed. Because that would be really inconvenient. 

I looked up as the clock struck midnight. He’d mentioned that he would be out late tonight (I guess, he’d noticed that I was waiting up for him), but I wasn’t sure how long I should give him before getting worried. When it was going on two o’clock, I reached my limit. 

I was just walking across the hall to call him from the phone in my office when the front door opened and a very tired-looking mob boss stepped inside.

“Well, hi,” I greeted brightly, though it may have come off more grouchy due to how tired I was. “I guess it’s true what they say about how evil never sleeps.”

“Yes. Excuse me, Dresden,” Marcone said, his voice clipped as he attempted to navigate around me. 

The use of my last name set off alarm bells - he’d been calling me Harry since Christmas. I side-stepped to block his path, getting a better look at his face. He looked tired, yes, but also haunted, and tension screamed from every inch of his body. “John. What’s wrong?”

He didn’t look at me. “It was a long day. And now I would very much like to go to bed.” 

He again made to step around me, but I grabbed his arm, stopping him. I stared him down until he met my eyes in frustration. “What happened, John?” I demanded firmly.

Marcone sighed. “You don’t want to know.”

I considered that. I could only imagine what he had been out doing tonight, and yeah, I definitely did not want to know the details. But something had clearly happened, something bad enough to rattle him. And who did he have to talk to about it? I had little doubt that when things went wrong in the past, he’d have been able to talk things through with Hendricks. There was Gard, but she was a contracted consultant whose loyalty was ultimately to Vadderung, so I didn’t imagine he’d want to confide in her about things she didn’t need to know. So, it was up to me.

“Nope, but that’s too bad for both of us,” I said as I used my grip on his arm to navigate him into the living room. “Cause you need to talk.” I pushed him down to sit on the couch, ignoring his protest, and sat down next to him. “I’m listening.”

He shook his head, glaring at a spot on the far wall. “I’m not discussing this with you.” 

I sighed and continued more gently, my gaze focused on where my hand rested on my knee. “I know I’m not him. But you need to talk to someone, John. Or else it’s just going to fester and explode. I told you, you’re safe here. We’re behind wards, I’m not gonna use anything against you. So, talk.” 

Marcone was silent for several minutes. I let him stew. I knew how sometimes the words didn’t want to come out right away, and he hadn’t tried to leave, so I trusted that he would speak when he was ready.

“I’ll spare you the details of the work I was doing,” he finally said. 

I looked over to see him still staring at that spot on the wall, but his eyes were distant now. “‘Preciate it,” I muttered. 

“I was meeting with a supplier. I only had a couple of men with me. It should have been a simple transaction.” He paused and anger darkened his gaze. “But the supplier brought his ‘girlfriend’ along. She can’t have been more than twelve or thirteen.”

Oh. I could feel my own rage start to bubble up inside me. Having an underage girlfriend was bad enough, but I couldn’t even imagine what kind of stuff the poor girl was exposed to being close to this “supplier”. It was revolting. And it was one of the few areas where Marcone and I saw eye-to-eye. 

“I told him I would not be doing business with him,” Marcone continued, his hands curling into fists on his thighs. “And I asked the girl to stand with my men. She was standing too close to him for a clean shot, and if my people made to grab her, it would turn into a shootout with her caught in the middle.” He breathed out a long exhale through his nose, and my stomach twisted with dread. “I was focused on her. I didn’t think about his hand being behind her. And then he took a shot at me. Through her. It must have been his plan all along.”

I could feel bile rising in my throat. It was easy to get caught up in the monsters that live in the shadows and forget just how monstrous humanity itself could be. Not for Marcone, though. Maybe that was why he had no problem facing down the creatures of nightmares without blinking. When it came down to it, it was no worse than what he dealt with on a daily basis.

“She didn’t make it,” he finished, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

I shook my head, seeing red. “And your ‘supplier’?” I snarled through gritted teeth. 

Marcone turned his head to face me, his eyes fierce and challenging me to fight him. “Dead.”

I jerked my chin in a sharp nod. “Good.”

There was the gleam of that predator’s smile in his eyes for just a moment before his shoulders relaxed. For Marcone, that was basically his equivalent of another person’s shoulder slump. “If I’d just approached things differently…” I realized with a jolt that his hands were shaking. 

“Stop that,” I said firmly, sliding closer to wrap an arm around his shoulders. He let me, even leaned into me a bit. “Replaying it in your mind doesn’t change anything. You handled things how you believed to be best. But sometimes your best bet just isn’t good enough. That’s not on you.”

“You would’ve saved her,” he said, his voice utterly confident. 

I blinked down at him, but I couldn’t see his expression from my angle. I’d heard people speak about me like I was Superman before, like I could do anything. I never expected to hear it from Marcone. “I’d like to think so,” I admitted truthfully. “But I don’t know. No one can save everyone. I’ve learned that the hard way. I’ve learned it with kids.” My voice broke as I remembered the broken bodies of two wardens-in-training, ravished by ghouls. “So, maybe I could’ve saved her. Or maybe it would have ended exactly the same. Because I know you, John. And I know you would’ve done everything in your power to get that girl out of there.”

He scoffed. “I’m sorry, is Harry Dresden defending me right now?” 

I gave him a rueful smile. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re still a criminal scumbag,” I assured. “In pretty much every other area. But with things like this, I know you’ll always come through on the right side of things.”

He made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. It might have been disgust. “You shouldn’t put so much faith in me. I’m not an altruist. The vast majority of the terrible things you’ve said about me are true. I will do whatever I have to do to maintain my position of power. That comes first and foremost. But with this position I can protect this city and the people in it. I would like to think that makes it worthwhile…. But then things like today happen and I wonder if it will ever be enough.”

Most of what he said didn’t surprise me. It was all things I already knew from our soulgaze alone. What did surprise me was that he was being so open about it. Today must have really taken it out of him. “I told you, we can’t save everyone,” I said softly. “And if we push ourselves too far trying, we won’t save anyone.” It was something I’d had to remind myself of on multiple occasions.

“Perhaps,” he sighed. “But… I’m tired. I’m tired of people taking blows that were intended for me.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Amanda, Henricks, and now this girl. And those were only the ones I knew about. Maybe there were others. Of course he was tired. “Yeah. And it’d be great if we got to control that, but we don’t. As much as we try to prevent it, people end up in the line of fire. You didn’t put them there.”

“Nathan-”

“Made his choice,” I cut him off firmly. “He knew what he was doing. He knew the risks. And…” Tears shown in my eyes as I pictured Murphy before me, and my throat threatened to close up on me. “If you’d tried to stop him from being there, he’d have resented you for it. Even knowing what was coming, he would’ve made the same choices. And we have to respect his choice.”

Marcone seemed to understand exactly where my thoughts were. “Valhalla is lucky to have both of them,” he murmured. 

“Damn right, it is.”

“Nathan was at my side from the very start,” he admitted quietly. “He was so often my voice of reason. If I’m being completely honest, knowing this will never be repeated, I’m not sure if I can do this without him.”

I nodded. I got that. I felt the same way with Murphy. For so long, she’d always had my back. She was always there to pull me back from the edge. How did I stand a chance without her? “Well, if I’m being completely honest, knowing this will never be repeated, because I will deny having ever said this - you have to because Chicago needs you. Without you, I don’t even want to think about what would have become of the city. I hate your methods, but I can’t deny their effectiveness. So… do whatever you have to do to keep going. Hendricks believed you could do it without him. And so do I.”

He was silent for several moments, and when he did speak, his voice was softer than it’d been all night. “Thank you, Harry.”

We just sat like that for a while. I had silent tears running down my face. Maybe he did too - I couldn’t see, but even if I could, I’d respect him by not saying. Eventually, his breathing slowed and I realized that he had fallen asleep.

I stared down at him for a minute. John Marcone had fallen asleep on me. That… showed more trust than I thought was possible from him. He was completely relaxed… vulnerable. I felt honored, even though that didn’t make a lick of sense. 

I also felt tired, and sitting upright was not the most comfortable position for sleeping. So, very carefully, I pivoted around to lie on the couch, bringing Marcone with me. He stirred, but I shushed him, pulling down the blanket from the top of the couch over us both. I’m not entirely sure why, only that I knew sleeping after days like this was hard, and if he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep right now, I didn’t want to disrupt that. And it was a large couch, comfortable - unlike the ones Marcone had brought over. I could sleep like this. And I did.

Chapter Text

I woke up feeling… content. Marcone’s head was on my chest, his hand twisted in my shirt, and one leg was thrown over to rest between mine. I liked the feeling of his weight on top of me. I could only see a partial profile of his face, but he looked peaceful and relaxed in a way he never looked while awake. It was nice to see.

Without thinking about it, I slid my hand up to his hair, threading through it gently. I enjoyed being able to see him with his walls down, being able to touch him like this. My heart swelled as I basked in the moment that I didn’t want to end.

Wait… what? My hand froze as the full realization of my feelings caught up with me. Oh, empty night. 

I should yank my hand away, but I didn’t want to. I should get up, but I didn’t want to do that, either. I wanted to soak this in, but that was a bad idea. It was one thing to be attracted to Marcone. It was a wholly other thing to feel this… warmth, being this close to him. I knew what that implied, but it was Marcone. Where had this come from?

I respected Marcone. Would maybe go so far as to say that I admired him in certain areas. He was intelligent, capable, and fought as fiercely to protect Chicago as I did. I also always had to commend someone who could keep up steady banter while in the face of almost certain death. Okay, so yeah, there were things that I liked about him. But he was still a criminal and I was still diametrically opposed to him. That wasn’t changing. So, there was absolutely no excuse for what I was feeling right now.

I slowly removed my hand from his hair, pressing it against the back of the couch to avoid touching him. But I still didn’t want to wake him. He clearly needed the sleep, and dammit, apparently I cared about the guy. Like an idiot. I shook my head and stared up at the ceiling, trying to imagine myself anywhere else.

I ended up dozing off again. When I woke up the second time, my hand had fallen back to Marcone’s arm, but his leg was no longer crossed over mine and his hand had been removed from my shirt. He had twisted slightly, lifting his head slightly to look up at me, so when I blinked open my eyes, I met his. I suppose I had always found his faded dollar bill green eyes captivating, but it hit differently when we were both waking up and he was lying half on top of me.

I licked my lips and his eyes flickered down to catch the motion. “Uh… morning, John,” I said with as strong of a voice that I could muster. It wasn’t great. 

“Good morning, Harry.” His voice was merely polite and he watched my face carefully. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

I shrugged as much as I could from my position. “You looked like you needed the sleep,” I muttered, fixing my gaze on the back of the couch.

“Yes, but I didn’t mean to use you as a pillow.”

“It’s no big deal,” I assured. “You’ll just have to return the favor of being a human pillow at some point.” Oops. I’d meant that as a joke. I wasn’t trying to speak it into existence.  

He chuckled as he pushed himself up and I scrambled to move my legs out of his way. “Of course.” He got to his feet and stretched. “I suppose I could feel worse, considering I just spent the night on the couch.”

“Yeah, that’s because this couch is actually comfortable, unlike that pretentious stuff you brought,” I snapped as I followed his lead.

He rolled his eyes. “Of course, how could I forget that my furniture has so offended you.” 

“The main function of furniture is comfort! Why would you compromise on that?” I shook my head, but I took comfort in arguing with him. It was familiar, it was comfortable, and it mercifully ignored whatever feelings were stirring inside me. 

“The function of a couch is to give you a place to sit,” Marcone argued. “The couch in my office does just that. It’s in a work environment; it’s not made for lounging or sleeping.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be comfortable,” I refuted matter-of-factly.

“Well, next time I go furniture shopping, I’ll be sure to get your opinion,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

My mouth might have fallen open just a bit. Furniture shopping with Marcone was not a scenario I had ever imagined I would find myself in. Then again, I was finding myself in a lot of scenarios I would’ve never imagined, lately. But I liked the idea of it, and that terrified me. 

I coughed to cover up my uncomfortableness, rubbing my hand against the back of my neck. “Well, uh, I need to get Maggie ready for school. You should… consider taking it easy today.”

Marcone was already shaking his head. “Unfortunately, yesterday just left me with more problems to take care of. I don’t know that that will be an option.” 

I couldn’t say I was surprised. “Right. Well, best of luck,” I muttered before heading downstairs, eager to put Marcone and the complicated feelings he brought behind me for the time being. 

*

Marcone wasn’t the only one with a lot of work to do. I was increasingly aware of the fact that we were getting ever further from the Winter Solstice, meaning that Tessa could be making her next move anytime now. I needed to track her down and fast. But I also had to help the people of Chicago as their friendly neighborhood wizard-man. And figure out how to save my brother. And be a dad. The silver lining was that all of that didn’t leave me anytime to contemplate whatever feelings I was developing for Marcone. Small mercies. 

My regular check-in with the Paranetters didn’t yield much new information. Paranoid Gary did mention that a couple of homeless people had vanished over the last couple of days. It didn’t necessarily mean anything - homeless going missing wasn’t anything new, unfortunately - but he insisted that he saw a pattern in it. And, as he was often paranoid-but-not-wrong, I decided to look into it.

The tough thing about leads like this was that there wasn’t much to go off of. Sure, I could investigate the general areas where the missing people were known to hang around, but it wasn’t like there were contacts to talk to, or witnesses, or really any evidence that anything had even happened. That was why so many creatures chose to prey on the homeless. It didn’t leave many traces.

Wanting to do my due diligence, I expanded the scope of my investigation, paying attention to the region between the two areas in question. The only thing of note was a construction site, which immediately set off alarm bells in my head. There was a lot of construction going on in Chicago right now, and there was one person who was behind the majority of it. It could just be a coincidence, but… I was never that lucky. 

I parked my flame-painted hearse and got out wearing my leather duster, with my staff in hand and tried to look like I belonged there. I might not have done a great job of it, but I at least thought I did better than the guy crouched behind a dumpster. His eyes swiveled to me, he stiffened, and then he bolted. Well, maybe not.

I aimed my staff at the ground in front of him. “Dispertius!” I thundered and the ground opened up in front of the retreating figure. 

He tried to stop as the earth split before him, but didn’t react quite fast enough. His foot slipped into the crack, pitching him forward onto his face. I shook out my shield bracelet as I leapt forward, my staff extended to catch him in the chest as he rolled over, attempting to scramble to his feet. 

He would have been a pretty innocuous-looking human. Brown hair, dark eyes, dressed in a red t-shirt and jeans. Except, his jaw was abnormally elongated, and his arms ended in talons. He was a ghoul, and must have started to transform when he hit the ground. I increased the pressure of my staff, my lips curling back from my teeth in a snarl.

The ghoul grabbed my staff, trying to use the leverage to wrench me off my feet. I’d met stronger ghouls, and unfortunately for him, my feet were firmly planted, despite the fine layer of sleet on the ground. I further pulled on the strength of the Winter Mantle to ensure he couldn’t shake my grip.

“I can blast a hole through your chest right now,” I growled. “It’ll hardly take more effort than flicking a bug. So, let’s start with you explaining what you’re doing here.”

His eyes gleamed with rage and when he opened his mouth, he revealed sickening yellow fangs. “What’s it to you, wizard?” he snarled, and I could see his talons digging into the wood of my staff, threatening to break it.

Realizing what he was doing, I swiftly exchanged my staff for a boot, driving my heel down into his chest as I wrenched my foci away. “You should really be more concerned about what I’ll do to you if you don’t start talking.” I murmured a word and a ball of flame like a tiny sun appeared in the air between us. “I’m thinking I’ll start with melting your flesh off,” I added casually.

The half-transformed ghoul narrowed his eyes, but only thrashed on the ground in an attempt to throw me off of him. So, I decided to offer some incentive. I willed the flaming orb closer, allowing the flames to lick at his arm. He let out an inhuman shriek and his skin began to peel away as his proportions became further distorted. 

“Now, what are you doing on Marcone’s construction site?” I demanded, injecting as much threat into my voice as I could. No, I didn’t know for certain that this construction was being overseen by Marcone, but given the circumstances, I felt safe enough to hazard the guess. I pressed the sphere a little closer to the ghoul’s face to help with motivation. 

“Reconnaissance!” he spat, trying to flinch away from the blazing heat. 

“For Tessa?” I pressed.

“Who?” He looked even more distorted than the average ghoul as he bent his neck so far to one side it looked as though he were trying to dislocate it in an effort to avoid the not-so-great ball of fire. 

I tried to keep my surprise from showing on my face. “Who hired-”

“Dresden,” a sharp voice rang out behind me. “What are you doing to my construction site?”

“Hi, John,” I called back without taking my eyes off the ghoul. “Thought I’d do some pest control for you.”

Marcone stepped up beside me, taking note of the ghoul beneath my foot. “I see,” he murmured as he drew his gun and leveled it at the ghoul. I heard movement behind me and assumed that whatever men he’d brought with him to investigate the disturbance were doing the same. “Are you following me, now?” 

“No. I was tracking him.” I nudged the ghoul with my staff to accent my statement.

“Are you a member of LaChaise’s clan?” he demanded of the ghoul, his voice carrying the calm authority he always exuded in these situations. 

The ghoul just glared, baring his teeth in a snarl. So, I pushed the sphere closer until the flames were lapping at his neck. “Answer him,” I growled. 

“Yes,” the ghoul said in a strangled gasp. 

“Harry,” Marcone said, his voice pitched to be just between us. “He won’t be able to talk if he’s been burned alive.” 

“Yeah, well, he’s not exactly talkative, so…” I made no effort to keep my voice down as I eased the sphere even closer, picturing everyone I’d ever seen mutilated at the hands of a ghoul, as I did so. If he wasn’t going to talk, I would at least get the satisfaction of killing the monster. 

“LaChaise wants to stop the alliance,” the ghoul snarled, a desperate note to his voice. “He wanted to know if you would defend the Baron.”

I leaned over the ghoul with a wide smile, my eyes quite possibly looking a little crazed. “What do you think?” Then I decided that he probably didn’t have any more useful information, and I should probably send a message to the head of the LaChaise clan to answer his question. So I dismissed the flaming orb and once again leveled my staff at the ghoul. “Infriga!” He froze into a block of ice, and I immediately followed up with, “Forzare!” 

Chunks of frozen ghoul went flying over the outskirts of the construction site. I straightened up, breathing heavily even though I hadn’t really expended that much effort. 

Marcone glanced over his shoulder as he stowed his gun. “Leave us.” I heard the sound of retreating footsteps, and then there was nothing but the sounds of Chicago existing around us, one monster down. “Was that the Winter Mantle?” he asked softly. 

I scoffed as I turned to face him. “Nope, that was all me. I just really hate ghouls.” Especially when they’re threatening people I care about, I added in my head, meeting his eyes for a moment before quickly looking away, as though afraid that he would be able to read the thought in my eyes.

He nodded, that odd, unreadable look on his face. “I don’t care for them, either. Especially considering that LaChaise apparently wants me dead.”

“Well, I’ll happily burn them all to the ground for you,” I offered with a smile. 

His lips twitched. “Given the fallout of the last genocide you committed, perhaps we should hold off on that.” 

I shrugged. “Suit yourself. So, what is your play?” 

He considered it for a minute. “I believe a meeting with Carter LaChaise is in order.” 

“A meeting? With the guy trying to kill you?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Please, Harry, you’ve had luck with far dumber plans than this. It will be under the Accords, I’ll be fine.” 

He was probably right, and it made sense that Marcone would want to go for the diplomatic solution, but like hell was I going to let him walk into a room with LaChaise without backup. “Fine, but you’re not going alone,” I stated firmly.

“I’ll bring Gard with me.”

I shook my head. “No. I’m going with you.”

Chapter Text

Marcone set up the meeting with the head of the LaChaise clan in the conference room of one of the hotels he owned. Its reconstruction had just recently been completed, and it wasn’t open to the public yet. So, if things did go south, we wouldn’t have to worry about bystanders. I was pretty sure the fact that I’d be there had affected his choice of location. I knew Marcone had reservations about my presence at the meeting, considering my issues with ghouls, but there was no way in hell I was letting him do this without me. I could play nice. For a little bit, at least.

Carter LaChaise strode into the room exactly one minute after our scheduled meeting time. It may not seem like much, but it was a very pointed statement. He wasn’t late enough to affect his reputation, but he still wanted to make it known that he did not respect Marcone’s time, or his status under the Accords. It wasn’t surprising. Marcone had embarrassed the ghoul in front of the most powerful supernatural nations, calling him out as a coward and pushing him to the point that he lost control. I’d watched the whole thing invisibly, and even then I had been impressed. LaChaise wouldn’t forget the insult.

Just looking at the large man, you wouldn’t be able to tell he was a ghoul, but there was a certain look in his eyes - a certain bloodlust that was always visible just beneath the surface - that warned you that he wasn’t human. He kept his expression mostly professional, only glowering slightly as he nodded to the both of us and took his seat across the table from Marcone.

I offered him a perfectly polite smile, that was maybe just a touch too wide to look believable. Marcone, of course, had his impeccable business-man mask on as he greeted the ghoul. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice, LaChaise.” 

“Of course, Baron,” he replied in his heavy New Orleans accent, adding a faint sneer at the title. “What is this meeting about?” 

Marcone steepled his fingers in front of him, fixing LaChaise with that look that threatened to see right into your soul, no soulgaze required. “There has been some ghoul activity in Chicago.”

LaChaise scoffed. “Not every ghoul is a member of my clan, and even the ones that are can hunt wherever they like. Did you seriously drag me all the way here for this?” 

“Ah, you see, this ghoul identified himself to be acting under your direct orders,” he supplied casually, and I got the distinct impression that he was handling the situation just the same as he would if it were a human that threatened to interfere with his business, and not a flesh-eating ghoul. His entire demeanor screamed that he was the one in charge here, and LaChaise would do well to respect that. It was even easier to admire his brazenness when I was on this side of things, rather than being the one in his way. Though, if I was being honest with myself, I always had.

The ghoul’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? And where is he, then?” 

“You might still be able to find bits of him off Lake Shore drive,” I supplied helpfully, my too-wide smile still in place.

LaChaise’s lip curled slightly as he looked between us. “So, you have no proof?”

“Are you saying I require evidence to get a straight answer out of you?” Marcone demanded.

“Guess it depends on the question,” he drawled, glaring across the table. 

Marcone just stared at him over his fingers, contemplative, before he abruptly lowered his hands, likely letting them fall within reach of a concealed weapon or two. “Did you really think one young, inexperienced ghoul would be able to assassinate me?” 

That got a reaction, as Marcone had known it would. LaChaise moved as if to spring to his feet before he checked himself at the last second, regaining control. Still, that bloodlust was closer to the surface now as his glare met Marcone’s determined gaze. “If you’re facing assassination attempts, mortal, perhaps this alliance isn’t as strong as we’ve been led to believe.”

Marcone arched an eyebrow, his faint smirk audible in his voice as he said, “Who said there was more than one attempt?”

LaChaise went still in a way that reminded me of a predator being spotted by its prey, trying to blend in with its environment. My smile became more gleeful as I watched. “I would assume, with how many are opposed to this alliance.”

“I haven’t heard anything about that,” I said casually. “But I guess you would know better, since you all are apparently working together to kill Baron Marcone.”

“I don’t have to be working with them to have heard them,” he spat at me. “But I still say a lot of opposition doesn’t indicate a strong alliance. I should think Mab would be questioning her decision.” 

I stood to loom over the table, planting my palms down on the wood in front of the ghoul. “No one is touching him,” I snarled, glaring down at him. “And batting down that opposition is how we prove the strength of our alliance.” 

“You have no proof I’ve done anything,” LaChaise hissed, glaring up at me. 

“No,” Marcone acknowledged calmly, lifting a hand to my lower back, gently encouraging me to stand down. I decided to listen - I’d agreed to play this his way, after all. I straightened up, but remained standing, glaring down at LaChaise. “But I have enough reason to retaliate.”

The atmosphere of the room suddenly became three times thicker with tension. “Is that a threat?” LaChaise demanded angrily, his flesh seeming to ripple as he visibly held himself back from transforming. 

“If I threaten you, LaChaise, I assure you, you will know.” He held out his hands, palms up. “I am simply trying to have a civil conversation here. There is enough going on with the war against the Fomor, and I’m sure that Queen Mab would not appreciate you attempting to destabilize the Accords by provoking in-fighting. So, it is in both of our best interests to avoid an escalation of the situation.”

My eyes flickered to Marcone. He still appeared perfectly calm and confident that he was in control of the situation, despite the fact that he was facing down an angry ghoul that clearly wanted to rip his face off. Marcone could hold his own in a fight, even before he’d gotten Namshiel’s coin, but he only resorted to throwing punches when he had to make a point. It wasn’t just through bloodshed that he’d taken control of the city, it was through his cunning application of leverage. Sometimes to keep criminals in line, sometimes to scare people into paying for his protection. But whether he was seeking order or power, he knew exactly what pressure to apply to get his desired results. And that hadn’t changed when he’d started dealing with the supernatural.

I’d gotten better at thinking before lighting things on fire, but this meeting with LaChaise had not been my first choice of how to handle things. Torching a few ghouls would send a very clear message that going after Marcone was not worth the loss of resources. I wouldn’t have given him warning. But there was every chance that my method would be met with vengeance, and Marcone was right, now was the worst possible time for in-fighting within the Accorded Nations. Mab would be pissed if I started another war. So, maybe Marcone’s way had some merit. And he clearly knew what he was doing. 

“I’m willing to forget this ever happened,” Marcone continued easily. “So long as I can trust that the LaChaise Clan will respect the upcoming alliance and won’t be making or aiding in another move against me.”

“Do you think I’m afraid of you, mortal?” LaChaise’s voice was full of disdain, but with just a touch of uncertainty. He leaned forward slightly. “You’re not allied with Winter yet, and Mab won’t stand behind you once it becomes evident you’re unworthy of the alliance.”

“Hi,” I said brightly, matching his lean over the table. “First of all, if you’re not afraid of him, you’re even dumber than you look. He went hand-to-hand with Ethniu without batting an eye. While you would have turned tail and ran if he hadn’t put you in your place. But by all means, write him off as ‘just a mortal’. It won’t make any difference when he takes your head off. Second, the alliance may not be official yet, but I do have a sense of honor and duty to my fiance, and I can utilize whatever Winter resources I want in his interests. And if you threaten him, I will come at you with everything I’ve got.” Okay, I wasn’t actually sure how much official aide Marcone could get from Winter right now, but that meant LaChaise likely didn’t know, either, so I felt safe making the threat. 

“Oh, and one more thing.” My smile returned as I leaned down close to him, and I channeled the Winter Mantle, allowing the frost to coat my words. “If it were up to me, you’d be dead by now. John wanted to give you a chance. Reject it at your own risk. But I promise you, you will never get close enough to lay a hand on him. And even if you did, he would cut that hand off.” I glared fiercely down at the ghoul, and he met my glare with his own fury. I didn’t look away in time. 

I saw the world as a farm and humanity as the cattle. And Carter LaChaise lived the farm-to-table lifestyle. Man, woman, child… he made his pick with all the casualty of deciding what to order off a restaurant menu. And he always got who he wanted. He lived for the taste of flesh. Blood ran in the streets. And the screams…. 

I reeled back. I hardly processed the terror on LaChaise’s face as I ran to the wastebasket in the corner of the room, vomiting into it.

“Harry,” Marcone’s concerned voice drifted over to me, but I hardly heard it over the screams that were still ringing in my head. I could still smell the blood, too. I vomited again.

And then the rage took over. LaChaise was a monster. I’d known that, but I’d never seen firsthand what he was capable of. It’s always different seeing. I whirled around. LaChaise was still recovering, too, and he still looked frightened. Good. I strode back towards him, pulling my blasting rod out of my coat, my face twisted in disgust at the creature before me.

“Harry!” Marcone said more sharply, launching himself up to grab my wrist. “LaChaise was promised my protection for the duration of this meeting,” he reminded me intently, seeking my eyes. 

I shook my head, swallowing down more bile. “You didn’t see, John,” I said, my voice cracking, barely a whisper. “It was bad.” 

“I believe you,” he said just as quietly, but his gaze and voice were stern. “But I will not let you start another war and drag my name through the mud. Pull it together.” 

I hated it, but he was right. I couldn’t throw down with LaChaise right now. It would be a violation of the Accords, declaring war between the LaChaise clan and Winter and Chicago. I took a deep breath, running through some complicated math equations in my head until I felt calm enough to face LaChaise again without setting him on fire. He was staring at me, still looking distinctly uneasy. I didn’t bother hiding the anger and disgust on my face as I met his eyes without fear. This time he looked away.

I gave Marcone a quick nod, assuring him I wouldn’t do anything rash, and then reclaimed my seat. I laid my blasting rod down on the table in front of me, keeping my hand close to it. Just as a reminder.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Marcone said politely as he also returned to his seat. “What is your decision, LaChaise? Can we put this behind us, or will we need to take action against you?” There was slight emphasis on the second ‘we’. Marcone knew that what the ghoul had seen in the soulgaze had shaken him, and he was going to use that to his advantage. Good. If he hadn’t, I would have objected. 

LaChaise glowered as his eyes darted between the two of us. Anger, fear, pride, and rationality at war inside him. Fear and rationality won. “Fine,” he snarled. “You have my word that the LaChaise Clan won’t seek to undermine your alliance.”

Marcone bared his teeth. “Excellent. And as a show of good faith, I’m sure you’ll have no objection to providing me with the names of those who have been conspiring against me.”

Ah, okay, that was a good play. And one we may not have gotten with the violent approach. It still wasn’t as satisfying, but I could admit it was smarter.

The fury was back full-force in LaChaise’s eyes. “And if I don’t?” he demanded. 

“Then I’ll be forced to assume you’re not true to your word. And I will retaliate accordingly.”

A growl bubbled up from the ghoul’s throat, but Marcone was unblinking. I rested my hand lightly on the grip of my blasting rod, a large part of me hoping he’d give me an excuse. We stared at each other, all of us ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. And then LaChaise backed down. “I don’t know everyone,” he ground out reluctantly. 

“Then I will thank you for what you can tell me,” Marcone replied easily.

LaChaise informed us that there were several who wanted the alliance stopped, though it didn’t seem like everyone was as committed to stopping it. The Black Court fell into the latter category, which was probably for the best, even though I would love to have a go at them after what they pulled at the Battle of Chicago. The more problematic parties were House Malvora of the White Court and some members of the Winter Court who were in the ‘humanity is the enemy’ camp and were displeased that Mab was allying with a mortal.

“And Polonius Lartessa?” Marcone asked. 

LaChaise shook his head. “Don’t know ‘em.”

He nodded, appearing unsurprised. I figured Namshiel must have already told him that Tessa didn’t play well with others and was probably working on her own. It tracked with what I knew of her, anyway.

LaChaise got to his feet. “That’s what I know. I think we’re done here.”

“Before you go,” Marcone also rose to his feet, and I followed his lead. “I would like to offer you a show of good faith, as well.” His tone dipped, becoming subtly more dangerous. “I would advise you to keep your clan and your business well away from Chicago. I think you’ll find the city inhospitable.” I smiled at that.

His lip curled, but he gave a sharp nod. “Nothing worthwhile up here, anyway.”

“Good,” I hissed. “Cause you have an hour to get out of our city before I come for you.”

LaChaise glowered for just a second before he turned on his heel and stalked out the door. As soon as he was gone, I collapsed back into my seat, letting my forehead fall against the cool wood of the conference table.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Are you alright?” Marcone asked softly as he reclaimed the seat beside me. 

“I hate letting monsters like him just walk away,” I growled into the table.

“Monsters exist in the world,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. “Killing one doesn’t make much difference in the grand scheme of things.”

I glared up at him. “It does to the people he’ll kill. To the families he’ll rip apart.”

“And yet, if you kill him, his clan will take vengeance,” he said firmly, meeting my eyes. “It will mean war. And more casualties. More families ripped apart. And should you get yourself killed, you’ll fail all the people you could have saved.”

My breath left me in a huff and my shoulders slumped. He was right. But it still wasn’t easy letting monsters walk. I would never be okay with it. But I was getting uncomfortably used to things I wasn’t okay with in my life. 

I leaned into Marcone’s side, and the hand on my shoulder slid over to wrap around me. I found his presence surprisingly comforting. Ironic, considering that he was one of the monsters I used to struggle with letting walk away. 

Used to…. It was an accurate qualifier. Even if the coming alliance wouldn’t tie my hands when it came to him, I no longer wanted to take him out. I’d always said once he was no longer the lesser evil, but hell, there would always be someone worse than him. And Chicago needed him. I needed him.

Chapter Text

“So, still no sign of Tessa?” Michael asked as he set his beer back down on the table. Maggie and I had joined the Carpenter’s for Sunday dinner, and after eating our fill of delicious home cooking, Michael and I sat alone at the kitchen table, the sweet sound of laughter drifting in from the living room as our children played together.

I shook my head. “Nothing. We’ve run into trouble from a couple of Faeries, but that’s it.” It had been going on two months since Tessa’s first attack on Marcone, and I was distinctly aware of the increasing temperature as the days passed. If she was trying to lull us into a false sense of security, it wasn’t working. I was more on edge than ever.

“I spoke to Sanya. He thinks it’s likely she didn’t realize Marcone was in possession of Namshiel, but became aware of his presence after her attack. He figures she’s adjusting her plans.”

I nodded as I took a drink of my beer. “Makes sense. But she’s not gonna hold off for much longer.”

“I agree. Sanya has wrapped things up in Detroit, and is going to try getting into Chicago again.” During his attempt to come to Chicago over the holidays, the Knight of Hope had ended up detoured to help others that were in need. Probably people who were a lot more innocent than Marcone. But as it turned out, we hadn’t needed him yet, so maybe it would all work out, and he’d get to Chicago in time to help us against Tessa. I still wasn’t convinced, but I had hope. And sometimes, that was enough. 

But then there were times when it wasn’t. I kicked back the rest of my beer as I stared off into the distance, my thoughts several miles away. 

“Something on your mind?” Michael asked gently.

I didn’t answer at first. Instead, I got up and walked to the kitchen, grabbing another beer out of the fridge. Michael waited patiently as I returned to my seat and took a long drink, somewhere between avoiding saying the words aloud and working up the courage to do so. “Saturday is Thomas’s birthday,” I finally said quietly. “And I still have no idea how to save him. Or where Justine and their child are. I just… I’m failing him.” Saying those words felt like tearing off a piece of myself. I was failing my brother.

“The only way you can fail him is by giving up,” Michael said, his voice firm but gentle. “And I know you’ll never do that.”

“Thanks for the fortune cookie,” I muttered bitterly. 

He sighed, turning in his chair to face me more fully. “Harry, beating yourself up over it isn’t going to get you any closer to finding a way to save him. You just have to keep working at it. I know you will find a solution.”

“And if there isn’t one?” I choked out, staring down at the bottle in my hand. “If I’m just letting my brother be tortured for eternity because I’m not willing to let him die?”

His answering smile was sympathetic. “I know you don’t really believe that. You have solved greater problems than this. You just have to have faith.”

I shook my head. That was easy for him to say, he wasn’t expected to solve an impossible situation while his brother’s life was in his hands. “Lara says she’s never seen a vampire recover from his state. The Hunger’s gone so far… even if I was willing to let him kill someone to feed, it wouldn’t be enough to heal him. And even if I found someone with a stronger life force, it could have consequences - it could permanently change him.” You are what you eat, after all. And if Thomas took in that much life force from the kind of being that would be required, there was no way he would walk away unaffected. 

“Maybe you just need a different perspective,” Michael suggested gently. “Have you gone to see him since everything?” 

“No.” I’d gone back to the island just once after everything went down, to stow the Eye of Balor and the holy artifacts I had used in the battle. It had been a quick trip, and I’d passed everything off to Alfred without trekking down to the prison beneath the surface. I just couldn’t bring myself to face Thomas, even in his current state, after letting Justine get away with their unborn child. 

“Maybe you should go Saturday,” he suggested. 

I let out a humorless laugh. “Can’t. Mab’s really pushing appearances right now, and even though she doesn’t believe in the whole notion of Valentine’s Day, she thinks it’s important John and I be seen spending it together.”

“So, you’re going on a date?” he clarified with a wry grin. 

“Yep.” I breathed out a long breath, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. Marcone and I had appeared at events together, sure, but we hadn’t gone on a one-on-one date before. I was living with the guy, it shouldn’t seem like that big of a deal, but it was. I hadn’t been on a date in a while, and even if it was just for appearances, there were real feelings there on my side of things. And it was Marcone. How did I get myself into these messes?

Michael was studying my face curiously. “How are things between you two?” 

I shrugged, not quite looking at him. “He stays pretty busy sowing misery, so we don’t see each other that much.” 

“Harry,” he prodded.

I sighed. “It’s weird,” I admitted reluctantly. “I should hate him being around. I should hate seeing him with Maggie. But… it’s nice.” It was my first time admitting it out loud, and the words burned in my mouth. 

“He’s good with her,” Michael acknowledged. “I noticed that at Christmas.”

I nodded. “He is.”

“I also noticed how he watches you.”

I blinked at him in surprise, and my heart rate definitely did not increase. “What do you mean?”

“If there wasn’t a reason for his attention to be somewhere else, his eyes were always on you,” he recalled. “He never gave much away, but there were moments when you were particularly happy that it seemed to reflect back on him. Charity noticed, too. She said if she didn’t know better, she’d think he was in love with you.” 

I had to set my beer down on the table, while it felt like my insides were rushing together for a group meeting. I shook my head, staring down at the table. “He was just out of his element,” I said dully. 

I could hear the frown in Michael’s voice. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” I muttered without looking up. “We had a run-in with a Fae that showed us exactly what we want of each other. All he wants from me is sex.”

Michael was quiet for several seconds. “Does he know how you feel about him?” he finally asked softly. 

I scoffed. “I don’t even know how I feel about him. Just that it’s not what I should be feeling.”

“I don’t think there’s any rules for what you should be feeling, Harry. You’re getting married to him.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to fall for him,” I argued, looking up at him. “He’s still a criminal. Still a Denarian. And yet…” I motioned to myself to encompass my complicated feelings for the man.

“Love doesn’t care about things like that,” he pointed out gently.

“It’s not love,” I objected frantically. I was not in love with Marcone. I was sure of that much, at least. But… I was pretty sure I could get there if I let myself. And that was freaking terrifying.

“It still applies,” Michael continued patiently. “I’ve found logic rarely applies to matters of the heart.”

I huffed a laugh. “Don’t I know it.” I shook my head slightly. “I think my heart’s going more for irony. Along with the rest of my life.”

*

Saturday snuck up on me. I mean, I’d known it was coming. I’d made the necessary arrangements with Maggie and with my schedule, but I’d spent very little time contemplating the date itself. And now I was staring into my closet with damp hair and a towel around my waist, wondering what the hell I should wear. 

This shouldn’t be that difficult. It was just a date. I had plenty of options that were acceptable for the circumstance. But… I felt like I had something to prove. Marcone would probably be expecting me to put in minimal effort and I wanted to see the look on his face when I showed up looking my best. Okay, yeah, I wanted to impress him. Shut up.

I finally settled on some dark jeans that had avoided being ripped or stained and a burgundy button-up. I'd even shaved and gotten my hair at least moderately tame. Ignoring my scars and gangly appearance, I thought I cleaned up alright. But I always liked to get a second opinion, and since Maggie was at the Carpenter’s for the night under Amanda’s charge, I turned to Bonea.

“What do you think?” I asked, spreading my arms in front of the skull.

“What about?” she chirped excitedly. She always liked being asked to share her knowledge, to be able to help.

“My clothes,” I clarified. 

“Your shirt is red!” she immediately rattled off. “It has seven buttons! Your pants are made of denim!”

Right, I probably should have known better. Bonea was great with facts, but we were still working on more abstract concepts like opinions. “Do you think they look good?” I tried instead.

The lights in her eyes dimmed slightly as they often did when she was thinking very hard about something or was confused. “Do clothes have morality?”

“Uh, no….” I contemplated how best to explain to her the concept of ‘looking good’. I hadn’t intended to teach a lesson on style before my date, and I didn’t really think I was qualified in this area, but I never turned down an opportunity to help my daughter learn. “You know color theory, right? Do these colors compliment each other and my skin?”

“Oh! Yes!” Her eyes flared excitedly as she began to understand. “Your clothes look good!”

I beamed at her. “Thanks, Bonnie. You’re the best.” I patted her skull affectionately before leaving her to continue reading The Ant and the Grasshopper.

I got back to my room, put on some cologne, and was just taking some calming breaths when there was a knock on my bedroom door. Here went nothing. I answered the door.

Surprise, surprise, Marcone looked amazing. He’d gone with a classic look - black slacks, white shirt, black vest - but the vest fit him very well, and he’d left the top couple buttons of his shirt open in a way that drew my eye. I still caught the way his gaze roamed over me appreciatively, though, and I vaguely wondered how many times I hadn’t noticed him doing that in the past.

“So, you are capable of dressing yourself,” he commented with a smirk.

I leaned against the doorframe casually. “Aren’t you supposed to wait until after the date to come to my room?” I shot back at him.

He arched an eyebrow at me. “Is that an invitation to do so?” he challenged.

Warmth flooded my face as I removed my foot from my mouth. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s a first date, John.” I managed to keep my voice level as I kept up the banter.

“Technically, it’s not,” he pointed out. “You were my date at the Art Institute. And if you count our engagement party, that makes this our third date.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re just trying to get me to put out.”

The look in his eyes was a cross between amusement and something almost wistful. “I know better than to think I’d be successful. Shall we?” 

I blinked, then bit my tongue before I could tell him he might be surprised, and followed him from the room.

I drove us in the Munstermobile while Marcone directed me to the restaurant he had made our reservation at. It was a nice place, but thankfully it wasn’t among the fanciest he could have picked. We were seated at a table slightly removed from the main dining room, while still being in plain view. It was as much privacy as we could get while still advertising our relationship.

“Well, this is nice. Not awkward at all,” I commented once we had ordered and had nothing to do but stare at each other until our food arrived.

Marcone chuckled. “I admit, it’s been some time since I’ve been on a date.”

“Same,” I admitted. “Think there’s been a change in rules we don’t know about?” 

“If there was, I’m sure you would ignore them.”

That got a genuine smile out of me and the corners of his eyes wrinkled with amusement for a moment. And I realized I really liked seeing that. So, I egged him on. “Only if you wanted to follow them, John.”

There was definite laughter in his eyes as he shook his head. “Didn’t you promise to be more cooperative?”

“I promised to try,” I pointed out with a teasing gin. “And we aren’t married yet. I still have five full months where I don’t have to do anything.”

“The fact that you’re on a date with me right now says otherwise.”

“I don’t have to do anything you want me to do,” I corrected myself.

His eyes glinted as he took a sip of his wine. “I have a hard time believing you’ll suddenly stop digging your heels in once we’re married,” he murmured as he returned his glass to the table. 

Once we’re married, the words echoed around in my head for a moment before I shook it off. “Completely? Probably not. But I’ll honor the vows I make, I can guarantee that,” I added more seriously.

He arched an eyebrow at me curiously. “Really?”

“Yeah. If you weren’t a fake wizard, you’d know vows carry power. I couldn’t break them without jeopardizing my magic.”

“I see.” He eyed me thoughtfully over his glass as he took another drink. “Do you know what exactly will be in our vows?”

“I figure just the standard stuff,” I said with a shrug. But maybe I should figure that out. Make sure there wasn’t anything too objectionable. 

“You don’t know,” he accused. 

“I don’t know. Molly’s been handling all the wedding planning,” I added defensively.

“You should consider asking her, or I can. It would be good to know what all is involved in a Fae wedding ceremony beforehand.”

“Uh… right,” I muttered. That seemed as good a segue as any to something I’d been needing to talk to him about. As much as I didn’t want to. I looked down to where my hands were nervously twisting my napkin. “About that. When you discussed everything with Mab… did she tell you, um, that to seal the alliance, uh…” I trailed off uncomfortably, really hoping that he already knew. Even knowing he wasn’t likely to take issue with it, it wasn’t something I wanted to tell him.

“The marriage needs to be consummated, yes,” he finished for me. “Though I’m a little concerned about your ability to do so, if you can’t even say it.”

“I can consummate just fine! Can you?” I shot back, immediately getting defensive.

Marcone openly laughed. “I assure you, Harry, I will have no problems.” He didn’t bother to hide the hunger in his eyes as they flicked over me.

I squirmed beneath his gaze. “Then we shouldn’t have a problem,” I muttered, looking away.

His eyes seemed to bore into me, searching for something. “I’m assuming you’ve been with men before, considering your close relationship with Thomas Raith.”

A mixture of surprise, embarrassment, frustration, and heartache washed over me as my gaze returned to him, and then I quickly looked down. “No. It wasn’t… like that,” I said quietly.

“Really?” he asked, a note of skepticism in his voice. “You lived together for a time, and there were multiple eye-witness accounts of the two of you dating.”

I glared at the table. Of course Marcone would have heard those rumors. “We had to pretend on a couple of occasions, and it got out of hand. And he was homeless, I offered him a place to stay. That’s it.”

He made a thoughtful sound. “So, have you been with a man before?”

“No.” I decided not to add that I’d only recently realized the idea appealed to me.

“But you are interested?”

I nodded. At least in the one in front of me.

“Are you sure?” he pressed. “Because you seem entirely uncomfortable with this topic of conversation.”

I shook my head. “It’s not that. It’s just… Thomas.” I noticed his questioning look and added, “Today’s his birthday.”

“Hm. And I suppose you have no idea where he is.”

I glared at him. “Drop it, John.”

To my surprise, he did. But that may have been partially because a waiter was approaching with our food. 

We ate in silence for a couple of minutes before Marcone spoke up again, apparently deciding to use the date to get information on other areas of my life, since I wasn’t telling him anything about Thomas. “So, how exactly are you related to the Blackstaff?”

I rolled my eyes as I swallowed my bite of steak. “He’s my grandfather. On my mother’s side.” There was no use keeping it from him. He’d made the connection, so he might as well know the details. Besides, though the old man may disagree, it wasn’t one of my bigger secrets.

“Margaret LeFay, correct?”

I fixed him with a look. “You would know that, creep.”

“I’ve done my research,” he admitted unabashedly. “She died shortly after you were born, correct? I never could uncover the details.”

“Not surprised.” If there was one thing the White Court was good at, it was secrets and cover-ups. “It was an entropy curse, courtesy of Lord Raith.”

He blinked in surprise. “A reason, I presume, you were reluctant to marry his daughter.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “Falling into bed with the White Court - historically, not a great move in my family.”

Marcone frowned, his expression thoughtful. “She had relations with him?”

“Yeah. Was with him for a while.” I saw the crease form between his eyebrows as he connected the dots. Maybe I should’ve been more careful about sharing the details. I hurried to continue before he could call me out. “Not something that’s widely known. Having family with connections to the White Court could be… complicated.” I gave him a pointed look.

He nodded, his expression understanding. “Of course. I won’t tell anyone.”

I believed him. Maybe it was because I knew our marriage would mean he’d have to deal with the fallout of any problems that he caused for me, or maybe it was because I trusted him probably more than I should. Regardless, I believed him.

“Thanks.” I returned to my food, picking up the conversation again after a few bites. “I don’t know anything about your family.”

“No one does,” he said coolly. 

“Oh, come on,” I sighed. “It’s only fair. You know about mine.”

He considered it for a minute before he set down his fork and looked at me across the table. “I make it a point not to spend time remembering my past, but…. Growing up, we didn’t have much, but my parents were the kind of people that didn’t care about material things. They never let the stress of making ends meet get to them, or I suppose more accurately, never let it show. They believed anyone could make something of themselves, no matter where they came from.”

“Guess you proved them right.”

His answering smile was rueful. “I don’t think my career path is what they had in mind.”

“What happened to them?” I asked gently.

I could already see his mask being put back into place. “The police never did find the answer. Their deaths were ruled an accident.”

A couple of pieces began to slide into place. “The police never found the answer,” I noted the distinction. 

His smile was all teeth. “No.”

I could very clearly imagine a young Marcone in the wake of his parents’ death, wanting revenge and frustrated that the police weren’t trying hard enough. Maybe he decided to find other connections that could help him. Or, hell, maybe he had infiltrated the mob thinking they were responsible. Either way, it had started him on the journey to where he was now. For better or for worse.

“You have any other family?” I asked curiously. 

“None living,” he answered simply, his tone making it clear that he was done answering personal questions. 

Honestly, I was surprised he’d said as much as he did. No one knew anything about Marcone’s past, not until he started climbing up the ranks in the mob. But he had let me in, just a little bit. I tried not to read too much into that. And now that I thought about it, maybe he’d just been surprised that I’d let him in, too.

Chapter Text

“That was good,” I admitted as I drove us back home after our date.

Marcone gave me an amused smile. “The food or the date?”

“Both?” My eyes flickered to him nervously. Admitting to him that I’d enjoyed our date hadn’t been my intention. I had been talking about the food. But I had enjoyed both, and my guard was down, so the admission just kind of slipped out. Since when was my guard down around Marcone? And how did I get it back up again?

He blinked, his surprise showing for just a second before he covered it up with a boardroom smile. “It was. I’d expected a date with you to be a bit more… explosive.”

I shot him a glare as I turned onto a quiet side street. “Hey! Not all of my dates end in disaster.” 

Right on cue, a huge, dark blur dropped down in front of the Munstermobile, forcing me to slam on the brakes before facing a head-on collision with eight hundred pounds of big, dark, and ugly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” I shouted as the giant, leathery gorilla straightened in front of us, horns just visible in the darkness. Magog.

I twisted around to grab my staff out of the back and saw Tessa stepping up behind the car, almost completely in her preying mantis form, apart from her young, deceptively sweet face. Dammit, two Denarians!

I turned to Marcone in time to see him sliding a silver chain over his neck. Make that three Denarians.

He easily read the unease on my face. “Harry, just this once, I need you to trust me.”

“I trust you, John,” I answered honestly. Because I did. Whenever things came down to the wire, he had never let me down. “But if he turns on us-”

“He won’t,” he said confidently and got out of the car.

I had no choice but to believe him. If he was wrong about Namshiel, we were screwed. But if I took the time to argue with him over it, we were dead. I just had to trust that Marcone’s will was enough to keep him in check. If it wasn’t, I was about to be facing Tessa, her heaviest bruiser, and her sorcery teacher. I didn’t like those odds. But I did trust Marcone. And two-against-two, I could handle.

I followed Marcone’s lead and got out of the car. “I think you guys took a wrong turn,” I said, shaking out my shield bracelet. “The circus isn’t in town yet.”

Magog snarled, but Tessa ignored me. “Namshiel. You’re looking limited.”

Violet eyes opened on Marcone’s forehead as he turned to face Tessa. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, while I kept the majority of my focus on Magog.

“Your concern is touching, Tessa, dear,” Namshiel spoke while Marcone’s hands worked to unbutton his shirt and vest as thorns appeared on his skin. “But I assure you, I’m perfectly comfortable.”

“Don’t be a fool, Namshiel,” Tessa spat. “I will retrieve your coin, and once I find you a new host, the decision you’re about to make will dictate the welcome you’ll receive.”

Namshiel smiled with Marcone’s mouth in a way that was deeply unsettling. “As usual, darling, you’re slow on the uptake. Where do you think the Baron got the idea to build a vault that would open a Way to the underworld?”

That got my attention. I had assumed it had just been Marcone and Mab working together to set Nicodemus up. That he would have gotten the details to get his revenge from her. But, of course, she wouldn’t have been that forthcoming. He’d have needed to figure it out himself. Or, more specifically, from someone else who wanted revenge. Not on Nicodemus, but on his former boss, who had denied him any chance at free will and who had abandoned him to die. Namshiel hated Tessa in a way that went beyond mortal comprehension. So, he took her daughter from her.

Tessa let out a howl of rage and a bolt of lightning went hurling towards her former teacher, but it didn’t even make it halfway before it was reflected back at her.

“You see, this is what I told you about broadcasting your attacks,” Namshiel chastised casually.

I didn’t catch Tessa’s response because I had bigger things to worry about. Literally. Magog was charging at me.

I’d been gathering energy while Tessa and Namshiel spoke, and I poured it all into my shield as I brought it up around me. It was just enough to stop the charging Denarian. I quickly retreated a few steps as he bounced off the shield. 

“Olé!” I shouted as I dropped the shield, tightening my grip on my staff.

Magog plowed forward again, but I was ready. “Glacivallare!” I thundered, constructing a wall of ice between us, a foot thick. A crack speared through it at the impact, but the wall held. I took advantage of the reprieve to check how things were going between Marcone and Tessa.

It was like watching a light show as they flung spells at each other faster than the eye could follow. Toxic green and violet light hurled through the air. Namshiel was more skilled in sorcery, but Tessa had more natural skill than Marcone did, leveling the playing field a bit. With a sickening feeling, I remembered how master and apprentice fights generally ended for the Sith in Star Wars, and I hoped Namshiel wouldn’t make any cliche mistakes.

I’d bought myself some time, but Magog was pounding on the ice wall, and cracks were now spiderwebbing through it. It wouldn’t hold much longer. I quickly got into position, lining myself up between the cracked ice and Tessa. When Magog broke through, I was ready, and I swung my staff forward, using the Denarian’s momentum to propel him up, over my head and down onto Tessa, along with several shards of ice. I felt the tingle of the rest of the shattered ice as it fell around me.

“Might I suggest the high ground?” I called over to Marcone.

He glanced over at me with a roll of his eyes, and immediately stiffened. “You’re hurt.”

I looked down. I wasn’t wearing my duster, and it looked like when the ice wall shattered, a shard had lodged itself in my gut, and there was another one in my leg. Both had a worrying amount of blood spreading from the wounds, with more pouring out as the ice melted. Well, that was ironic.

Tessa shoved the heap of demonic gorilla off of her with a snarl, and flung herself at Marcone. His attention snapped back to her, and he raised his left hand, unleashing the force stored in his engagement ring. It hit her like a truck, sending her flying back to sprawl on the ground at the corner of the street.

Almost immediately, a tall, dark figure rounded the corner, the street lights reflecting off his wide smile, as well as the cavalry saber that he carried. “Harry,” he greeted me cheerfully in his heavy Russian accent. “Looks like you could use some help, da?”

I returned his smile fiercely as Tessa took one look up at the Knight of Hope, realized she was outnumbered, and bolted. Sanya took off after her.

Magog was stirring on the ground, but Marcone made a complicated hand gesture and purple light appeared to restrain him. That was good because it was starting to get too dark for me to see clearly, and I was pretty sure someone was moving the ground underneath my feet. I stumbled and caught myself on the back of the Munstermobile as I heard a muffled gunshot off to my left.

If Magog is dead, I need to collect his coin, some part of me thought. I can’t let Namshiel get it. But my feet didn’t move when I told them to.

A few seconds later, Marcone appeared in front of me, sans thorns and glowing eyes, but with Namshiel’s coin resting on his bare chest. “Harry.” His voice was low and intent and sounded like it was coming through a tunnel.

“Hey, John.” I tried to straighten up, the instinct to not show him any weakness kicking in. It was a mistake. I let out a slightly hysterical laugh as my legs simply refused to support me anymore. “I think I’m falling for you.” The words came out more like, “Ithnk mmfl fu,” though, so I don’t think he got the joke.

The last thing I was aware of was Marcone catching me as I blacked out.

*

I couldn’t say I was entirely surprised when I opened my eyes to see myself crouching over me. Well, he wasn’t an exact look-alike. He was better groomed, his hair neatly cut and with a well-trimmed goatee. And he was dressed all in black with a snowflake pin on his lapel. And I knew from experience, he was a dick.

I glared at him as I scrambled to my feet. We were in a large, empty room, as usual, in the only spot of illumination. It wasn’t a physical place. I was still unconscious, and this was all in my head. So was my double - my id. He generally showed up to talk whenever he was frustrated that I was so out-of-touch with my subconscious. I had a hunch that I knew what this was about, so for once, I beat him to the punch.

“You have terrible taste in men,” I accused. It wasn’t my rational brain that had gone and fallen for Marcone, after all; it was all him. It had to have been.

My id sighed as he straightened up, fixing me with an exasperated look. “The only person you can blame is yourself. I just thought he was a good option to finally get some action. The feelings is all on you.”

I stuck my chin out stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Because when have you ever had any idea of what you actually want?” He took a seat in a chair that had just appeared behind him, crossing his legs. “If you would stop villainizing me for two seconds, you would see that I’m just trying to help you. Oh, and same thing goes for John,” he added with a smile that had too much teeth.

“John just wants to help himself,” I corrected, conjuring a chair for myself and sitting.

My double rolled his eyes, looking at me like I was stupid. “Why do you think you irritate him so much?”

“Because I don’t listen. I’m rude, disrespectful. I challenge his authority every chance I get.” I shrugged. It wasn’t a difficult question to answer. I actively tried to irritate Marcone.

“If that were the case, do you really think he’d let you just get away with it?” he challenged.

I blinked. 

“You idiot,” he continued. “You drive him crazy because of what you make him feel. And because of those feelings he lets you get away with stuff he knows he shouldn’t. Give you an inch, and you’ll take a mile. And you’re strangling him with the mile of rope he’s given you.”

I shook my head. “That’s insane.”

“Is it? Because he’s come through for you an awful lot. And now he’s agreed to marry you. And is taking his role of fiance pretty seriously, wouldn’t you say?”

He was. He was going above and beyond with Maggie, went absolutely insane with his Christmas present for me, and was even opening up to me on occasion. I remembered the night he moved in, when I’d broken down. He’d said exactly what I’d needed to hear, and at the time, it’d felt like he really meant it, like he was furious on my behalf. ‘They don’t deserve you.’ But…

“When Marcone commits to something, he goes all out,” I argued. “That’s all it is.”

My id rubbed at his forehead in frustration. “Seriously - you don’t actually believe that! You’re just telling yourself that because it’s easier.”

“Sounds like you’re the one in denial. Have you forgotten we saw exactly what he wants from us?”

He perked up a bit. “Yes. Let’s get a replay of that, shall we?”

And before I could do more than half-splutter an objection, my id waved his hand and the vision the Arithi gave me was projected into the darkness beside us. Just like the first time I saw it, it wasn’t a cohesive scene, but rather bits and pieces of a night chopped together into a highlight reel.

It started with Marcone letting me into his estate, peeling off my leather duster himself and hanging it on a coat rack. Then it skipped to him leading me up the stairs by the hand, his eyes sparkling as he laughed at something I’d said. Then we were on his bed, still fully clothed, talking, and I leaned in to kiss him. He pulled me on top of him. Our clothes were lost. Our hands were all over each other.

I tore my gaze away, my face red. This was Marcone’s private fantasy, and even though it involved me, it felt like I was intruding by watching it. My id didn’t look away, I noted. He watched until the end, his expression hungry. Then he turned back to me with a smirk and fire in his eyes. 

“I know you want me to fall into bed with him,” I snapped. “But I’m not interested in just sex.”

His expression turned irritated again. “You’re impossible. Did you actually watch any of that?”

“You know I have! Too many times now.” My id had once told me that he was responsible for all of my dreams, so I knew just who to blame for the times I’d revisited the vision while I slept.

“And how did it start?” he asked as though asking a kindergartener a simple math problem.

“With me going to Marcone.” Of course he would want me to come to him. He would see that as a victory, just like anytime I went to him for help, effectively giving him the upper hand.

“And after that?” my id pressed in the same tone of voice.

“It was all just lead up for sex!” I practically shouted in frustration.

“Really?” he asked skeptically. “Because all John saw was you two getting married. He didn’t get context. Because the Arithi doesn’t give context. She wouldn’t light as many fires that way. Everything you saw was an integral part of what John wants.”

I leaned back in my chair and mentally ran through the vision with that perspective. He wanted me to go with him willingly, to trust him enough to let him strip me of my armor, to talk and laugh with him about stupid, mundane things, to kiss him because I wanted to. That wasn’t just sex. That was a relationship.

My id started a slow clap. “And finally he gets it.”

I looked at him with wide eyes. Stars and stones. John Marcone liked me. And the feeling was mutual. I shook my head. “None of this changes what he is.”

“Hot, strong, and capable? And someone you don’t have to constantly watch out for. He’ll take care of you. He understands you, like Elaine did. He has the same drive and ambition that made you fall in love with Susan. And he’s as competent as Anastasia - hopefully, in bed too. He even has Karrin’s determination, even though you never pursued that. He has everything you’ve ever admired.”

“You’re ignoring an awful lot,” I protested, trying to ignore how right he was. “Like the fact that he’s a cold-blooded killer, and peddles in all things illegal. He’s power-hungry, to the point that he took up with a Denarian. And he has no remorse for the people he’s hurt.”

My id didn’t bat an eye. Right. He was the part of me that didn’t care about laws and morals. “All to protect our city,” he said as though that excused everything. Which, to Marcone, it did. And apparently it did to a piece of me, too. “You said it yourself, Chicago needs him. Without him, the streets would be chaos, the Fomor would have overtaken the city, and as of last summer, it would no longer be standing.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I admitted because it was the truth. “But it still doesn’t excuse what he’s done and what he’ll continue to do. I’m not okay with that.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You’re more okay with it than you think.”

I scowled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You haven’t even realized-” He paused with a frown and a frustrated sigh. “No, some things you have to figure out for yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded, my scowl deepening.

“Use your eyes - or your ears - and figure it out! And for god’s sake, just sleep with the guy, already!”

“I kinda have to,” I pointed out.

“In five months! You have waited long enough to get laid.”

“And it won’t kill me to wait a little longer.”

“But why?” He leaned forward earnestly. “What’s the point, when it’s going to happen, anyway?” 

“Because I need. Some fucking. Distance,” I ground out, leaning forward as well.

“And you think you’ll be able to keep up that distance once you’re married?” he snorted in derision. 

“I can try,” I said stubbornly.

“You’ll fail,” he stated as though it were an inarguable fact. “So, there’s really no point in making yourself miserable now.”

I opened my mouth to argue some more, but my id got to his feet, adjusting his duster. I caught a flash of violet at his wrists and realized he was wearing the same cufflinks I had worn to my engagement party. That was an interesting fashion choice, and I didn’t know what it meant. “There’s no point going back and forth with you forever,” he said tiredly. “But you’d be happier if you just listened to me.”

“Actually, I’d be happier if I didn’t have to,” I corrected pleasantly, stretching inelegantly as I stood. “We done here?”

“Yeah, yeah. Give John a kiss from me.”

I flipped him off, even as the not-exactly-dream dissolved into darkness.

Chapter Text

“Harry, are you with me?” 

I blinked my eyes open to a familiar face leaning over me and a shock of wiry, black hair. “Butters?”

“Hey, Harry. Easy. You lost a lot of blood.”

I groaned. Groggy didn’t even begin to cover what I was feeling. My eyes focused on my friend, wearing his athletic goggles and casual clothes that allowed for easy movement, and then on the room behind him. It was my room, in my castle. I was in my bed, shirt and pants removed so that Butters could get to my injuries. I wasn’t in pain, just felt fuzzy, and the fact that I was awake and no longer bleeding seemed like a good sign to me.

“What’re you doin’ here?” I managed to get out.

“Your fiance called me,” he answered with a wry smile, nodding to the other side of the bed.

I turned my head. Marcone was standing against the wall of my room, watching Butters work with no expression on his face. But he was here. He could have left the room at any time, but he’d chosen to stay. Because he was worried about me. He cared about me. And he wanted to make sure I was okay. I had to admit, it felt kind of nice.

“You called Butters?” I asked in surprise, my voice coming out a little stronger now.

“I couldn’t take you to a hospital, and I knew you would object to my people having access to your blood,” he explained reasonably. “Sir Butters seemed the best option.”

I nodded. He’d done exactly what I’d have wanted him to do. But wasn’t there a rule against a Denarian calling up a Knight of the Cross for help? If so, it fit that Marcone would be the one to break it. “And my blood?” I asked, though I perhaps wasn’t as worried about him getting some of it as I should have been.

“I burned all traces at the scene, as well as your clothes. You have my word that I didn’t keep any.”

“I believe you,” I said without hesitation. “Thanks.” I turned back to Butters, who was in the midst of getting his things together. “So, what’s my prognosis, doc?”

“You lost a lot of blood. I stitched you up, but your body’s going to need time to recover. For you, I’d say give it 24 hours bedrest.” Butters turned his full attention back on me, fixing me with a stern look. “So, please, Harry, rest. Let your body recover. Just 24 hours.”

I opened my mouth, but Marcone spoke before I could. “I’ll ensure he does.”

Butters looked up at him and nodded, while I shot him a glare. “You’re not the boss of me.” 

The corners of Marcone’s lips curled up into the barest trace of a smile. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”

“Good luck to you,” Butters said as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “I’m going to see about catching up with Sanya.”

“Keep us informed,” I requested.

“Of course,” he promised as he turned from the bed and made his way to the door.

“Sir Knight,” Marcone stopped him before he could exit the room.

Butters turned to face him warily as Marcone pulled a small bag out of his pocket and offered it out to him. “It’s Magog’s coin,” he offered by way of explanation.

“Oh.” Butters blinked in surprise. My jaw might have dropped open. “Thank you,” he said as he took the bag and slipped it carefully into his pocket. 

“Given how quickly it returned to circulation the last time, perhaps you should consider somewhere besides the Church for safekeeping.”

“I’ll, uh, see what we can come up with. Thanks. I’ll see myself out.” With that, he turned and left the room.

I shook my head, staring at Marcone in disbelief. “You just… turned over a coin.”

He turned to look at me in surprise, and I noticed how much more open his expressions were now that it was just the two of us. He was still Marcone, and no one would ever call him expressive, but there was definitely a difference. “You know I’m not allied with the Denarians.”

“Yeah, but I figured Namshiel would have something to say about you handing over one of his buddies to a Knight.”

“Namshiel doesn’t particularly get along with the other Denarians, either,” he explained as walked up to the head of my bed. “His relationship with them is… rather similar to yours with the White Council, actually.” 

“What, he’s the white sheep?” I asked skeptically. 

“Hardly. Though as much as you fit the roll of black sheep, I suppose. He is what he is, but he doesn’t see eye-to-eye with the rest of them. And, as he has no desire to amass a following of his own, he has no qualms turning over Magog’s coin to the Knights.”

Amass a following of his own…. Gah. Marcone leading an army of Denarians was an absolutely terrifying thought. Thank god that wasn’t something either he or Namshiel wanted. 

“Well, good,” I muttered, happy to put that horrifying image out of my mind. And then, without really thinking about it, I reached over and grabbed Marcone’s wrist. He immediately tried to pull it away, but he clearly wasn’t trying very hard because I was able to pull it up to my eyes, checking the time on his watch.

“Harry-” he tried to protest.

“I should call Michael before it gets much later,” I cut him off. “Let him know I might be late picking up Maggie tomorrow.”

“I already called him,” he said, taking his arm back. “He was more than happy to watch her for another day.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it again, unsure of what to say. It was such a little thing, but it was a little thing he hadn’t had to do. A responsibility he hadn’t had to take on. To make sure Maggie was taken care of. But of course he’d done it. Marcone didn’t shirk from responsibility. I doubt it even occurred to him.

“Thank you,” I muttered quietly.

“You’re welcome.” He reached for a glass on my nightstand. “Here is water, if you need it.”

I took the glass from him and drank gratefully. 

“Do you need anything else before I go to bed?” he asked in the same tone I imagined he used to ask his business partners what they needed from him. Attentive, but detached. Or rather, trying to be detached.

“Don’t think so.” I shook my head as I returned the glass to the table.

He nodded and turned for the door. “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, John,” I replied softly. I watched him as he walked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Living in denial was easier, but I couldn’t do that anymore. The most dangerous man I knew had feelings for me. And it was mutual. What the hell was I supposed to do about that? 

As much as I talked a good game with my id, he was a part of me, and everything he said came from somewhere inside me. Even if it was a part of myself I regularly told to shut up. My feelings for John were growing, and I couldn’t ignore that. Okay, maybe I could ignore it. If not for the fact that we were getting married.

My id was right. How would I be able to keep ignoring my feelings when I was married to the guy? When I slept with him? It would be next to impossible. But… everything I said to my id still stood. I would never be okay with the things Marcone did. Yes, he was a lesser evil, even a necessary one, but still an evil. One responsible for a lot of pain and suffering. I couldn’t ignore that. I couldn’t condone that. Though as long as I was marrying him, I couldn’t stand against it either. So, why not take it a step further?

I bounced my head against my pillow in frustration. I could come up with multiple reasons, or excuses, to pursue my feelings, and only one huge, glaring reason not to. But it was a mountain of a reason that I didn’t think I could get past. Or that I didn’t want to be able to get past….

Maybe it was a moot point. Marcone hadn’t shown any desire to act on his feelings, after all. Maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he thought it would be more trouble than it was worth. He’d said it himself that emotions were too complicated for the way he lived his life, that he purposely avoided the risk of them developing. Clearly, he’d failed with me, but that was all the more reason for him to avoid things becoming even more complicated. To avoid a real relationship.

That was for the best, I told myself, even if I didn’t like the feeling it left me with. Even if it hurt for both of us, things were simpler this way. And if he was okay with that, I could be too.

*

When I woke up the next morning, I didn’t feel great, but I felt less groggy than I had the night before. The Winter Mantle was covering up any pain I would be feeling, so all I had to deal with was a stiff leg when I stood up.

I went to the bathroom first, and then made my way to the kitchen. Marcone turned from the stove when he heard me enter the room. He was in his sleep-clothes again, but I didn’t let it phase me this time. I did still appreciate it, though. What? Just because I was shoving down my feelings for the guy didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy looking at him.

“I was going to bring you your breakfast,” he chastised.

“Oh, well. Now you don’t have to.” I wandered over to the table and sat down.

He gave me the look he used to terrify his people into obedience. “You were told to stay in bed for the next 24 hours.”

“Yep,” I acknowledged, leaning back in my chair casually.

“And I said I’d hold you to it.”

“Well, that’s on you, John.” I gave him a teasing grin. “You should know better than to promise I’ll do something I’m told. Besides, I feel fine, and it’s not like I’m running into battle.”

Marcone sighed, then removed the pan from the burner and stalked over to stand in front of me. “I will drag you to bed if I must.”

Tempting. No, nope, shut up, brain. “No, you won’t,” I argued with a smirk. “You could hurt me more. And aren’t you supposed to be taking care of me?”

His eyes narrowed and I met them with a sunny smile. This should teach Marcone to ‘ensure’ I’ll do anything.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and when he opened them, his expression was softer. “Harry, please, just go to bed. Please.”

I blinked. Please? Marcone was pleading with me. Oh. I wondered if this was how he felt whenever he got me to say please. If so, I held a lot more power than I’d thought.

“Fine,” I mumbled, getting to my feet. 

“Thank you,” he sighed. “I’ll be in with breakfast shortly.”

I walked slowly back into my room and fell back into bed. Now, that just wasn’t fair. Marcone should not hold this much power over me. I’d have to level the playing field.

“Careful, John,” I said when he came in and set a plate down on my nightstand. “I could get used to you taking care of me.”

“Mm,” he hummed thoughtfully. “That’s not as much of a threat as you might think.”

“Oh, really?” I batted my eyelashes at him. “Are you saying you like taking care of me?” Hell's bells, I’d devolved into full-on flirting.

Marcone smirked and leaned down until his face was close to mine, and I thought he might be about to kiss me. “Maybe I just like having you at my mercy,” he suggested in a low voice that promised a lot of things he’d do to me at his mercy. 

I swallowed thickly. “Oh,” I said in a small voice. Okay, this was just getting embarrassing. 

He chuckled as he straightened up. “I have some reports to go over today,” he said, suddenly all business-like. It was scary how easily he could flip that switch. “I thought I’d bring them down here to review, in case you need anything.”

“You mean, to make sure I stay in bed,” I accused.

He smiled. “That too.”

“Fine.” I shrugged, determined not to let his presence get to me. “But could you grab me the stack of papers on my desk?”

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he reminded me.

“I’m not going to just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling all day! I have reports to go over, too, John, and I can do that while resting in bed.”

“Very well. Eat your breakfast.” He nodded to my plate and then turned and left. Well, it looked like I would be spending the day with John Marcone. So much for distance.

Chapter Text

Marcone set up a chair in the corner of my room, and we more or less ignored each other while we both worked in silence. It was surprisingly comfortable. His presence wasn’t distracting, and it was nice to not be alone. I chose to not overanalyze and panic over that.

“I spoke to the Knight, Sanya,” Marcone informed me when he brought me lunch.

“Oh?” I perked up with interest as I accepted the sandwich from him.

“Tessa led him into an ambush by another Denarian. He was able to defeat them, but Tessa took to the sky and got away.”

I made a sound of acknowledgement around the bite I had just taken. She’d always been good about escaping when things got dicey, so I wasn’t surprised. “What are the chances she’s decided to accept defeat and leave town?” I asked hopefully.

He scoffed as he settled back into his chair with his own sandwich. “Unlikely. Especially after what Namshiel told her last night.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, staring down at my plate. If she hadn’t before, now Tessa definitely wanted revenge on all three of us.

“Knowing that the Knights are in town, she’s likely regrouping and gathering more backup,” Marcone continued, and I figured it was a 50/50 chance he’d come to that conclusion on his own, rather than it being something Namshiel told him. Either way, he was probably right. 

“Rosanna,” I supplied confidently.

“That is the consensus of both the Knight and Namshiel. They also believe she’ll be bringing one, maybe two, more along with her.”

“Great,” I sighed. “Just great.” I fixed him with a thoughtful look. “You’re working from here today. That something you can continue to do?” He would be safe within the wards of the castle.

“I can…” he answered hesitantly. “Though there are some business meetings you would not want me to conduct here.”

Oh yeah. No. Definitely not. “I trust your discretion.”

He nodded, only the faintest hint of surprise alighting his eyes. “Then I will do what I can from here. Though hiding will not solve our problems.”

“No,” I agreed. “But it’ll let us face our problems on our terms. When you do have to leave, I’ll arrange for an escort,” I thought aloud. “The Little Folk. They’ll be able to alert you to danger before you see it, and get word to me.”

“I am not fond of my business dealings being supervised by the Fae,” he protested.

“They won’t pick up anything, trust me. They’ll just be serving as lookouts, and anything they overhear, they won’t retain it.”

Marcone considered me for a moment, then seemed to decide that if I was trusting his judgment, he could trust mine. He nodded, then added, “I would like you to make the same arrangements for yourself. She could always decide to switch tactics and target you, instead.”

“They’re generally keeping an eye out for trouble for me, anyway,” I waved a hand, dismissing his concern.

“But I want you to instruct them to inform me, as well, if you’re in trouble,” he said firmly.

I blinked. Even knowing that he had feelings for me, it was still going to take some getting used to the fact that he cared this much about my wellbeing. “Oh. Yeah, okay.”

“And we need to think of a more permanent deterrent,” he continued, ignoring my surprise. “For both Tessa, and the others who would disrupt this alliance.”

“Well, the alliance being sealed will be a pretty juicy deterrent,” I pointed out. “But hiding till then will look bad for both of us. We need to make a statement.” Something bigger than the one I had made at our engagement party, apparently.

“That may work for the Fae and House Malvora,” he observed. “But it won’t work on Tessa. It’s too personal for her.”

He was right. No demonstration would be enough to deter her. Especially not after last night. “Namshiel shouldn’t have fessed up,” I complained. “He just made her more determined.”

“I agree.” His expression became accusatory. “But I have seen you make the exact same mistake.”

“Hey, I’ve gotten better at knowing when to hold my tongue,” I argued. 

“Better? Yes. But considering where you started…” He trailed off pointedly.

I flipped him off. Hey, I didn’t say anything. I was holding my tongue just fine.

“That does not count as holding your tongue,” he said with mild amusement, as though he had read my mind. I was pretty sure he couldn’t do that, so he must just know me too well.

I stuck my tongue out at him. And then had the brilliant idea to pinch it between my thumb and forefinger, just to make the point.

Marcone rolled his eyes at my antics. But he was laughing on the inside. I just knew it.

*

Our system worked. Lady Malvora sent a trio of vampires after Marcone one day, but with the Guard’s forewarning of the attack, Marcone was able to put up the proper mental defenses, and I got there just after the fight broke out. We let one get away. And word spread that you couldn’t sneak up on us.

But the problem of Tessa and her Denarians remained. She knew better than to be holed up in Chicago itself. If she was, we’d have found her by now. If I didn’t know better, I might think she’d fled. But I did know better. She must be biding her time just outside of the city. Which made locating her infinitely more difficult.

And, because I just had the best luck, it turned out that we had even more problems. Apparently, there were also a fair number of the Summer Court who weren’t so keen on the idea of Winter gaining power. After the second attack, I decided to risk a meet-up with Fix, my opposite number.

“You know I can’t share Summer’s plans with you, Dresden,” Fix stated firmly. His stance wasn’t necessarily threatening, but it did clearly communicate that he wouldn’t back down from a fight if things went that direction. I respected that, and I respected him.

“I know that,” I said calmly, shoving my hands in my pockets to minimize my intimidation factor. “I was just hoping you could let me know just how closely the Baron should be watching his back.”

He arched an eyebrow. “The Baron who is entering into an alliance with the Winter Court? Which it is Summer’s job to keep in check? How do you think that looks?”

I’d figured it was something like that. “Like Winter is gaining power, more forces, and a potentially unfair advantage. Titania’s concerned.”

“Stands to reason,” he said with a shrug, technically not telling me anything.

“This whole thing is about strengthening the Accords. Not entering into a dick measuring contest with Summer.”

Fix nodded. “Sarissa is aware.”

Of course she was. She was Mab’s daughter. Had been with her in Arctis Tor until recently. She knew how she operated. But Titania was Mab’s sister and the two of them had had a strained relationship for a while now. Seeing the two of them speak after the Battle of Chicago had made that even more abundantly clear.

“Any chance of her getting Titania to see that?”

Fix gave me an incredulous look. “Any chance of Molly convincing Mab not to move forward with the alliance?” he shot back at me.

Yeah, no. We’d already tried that. I sighed. “Touche.”

When I got home that evening, I found Marcone in his castle office and told him what I’d learned. I figured he’d be glad to have the information - knowledge is power, after all, and Marcone loved power. Instead of calmly steepling his fingers and entering supervillain planning mode, though, he shot to his feet, eyes wide.

“You met with the Summer Knight, and didn’t think to tell me about it?” he demanded furiously.

“I’m telling you now,” I pointed out, leaning against the side of his desk, aiming for casual to disguise how thrown off I was by his response.

“You’re supposed to tell me before you put yourself in situations that could get you killed,” he ground out, glaring at me fiercely. Hell's bells, he was livid. If he wasn’t yelling at me for putting my life at risk, I might think I was in danger right now.

“I know Fix,” I argued reasonably. “I trust him.”

“You trust too easily. His sole purpose is to put a stop to you. And you decided to meet up with him, alone, while Summer is actively sending assassins against us. And you didn’t even tell me where you were going.”

Well, when he put it like that, sure it sounded bad, but I knew what I was doing. “And as you can see, I’m fine.”  

He shook his head. “That’s not the point, Harry. He could have set a trap for you. Summer could have killed you or used you as leverage over me. And if I don’t know when you’re about to do something idiotic , I can’t protect you.” His hands curled into fists at his sides and he took a deep breath. “You need to start trusting me.”

The tension in the room was thick between us. Marcone was clearly trying to regain his composure, but his anger still showed through. Anger was a common response to fear, I knew that. What I didn’t know was that John Marcone could be so afraid for my sake that it broke through his careful composure. And nothing had even happened. But… wouldn’t I feel the same if our roles were reversed?

I took a deep breath. “I do trust you, John,” I said gently, taking a step closer, into his personal bubble. “It wasn’t about not trusting you. I’m just… not used to this.” I motioned between the two of us. 

“No,” he sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “Neither am I.” He gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Henricks is probably rolling over in his grave.”

“Oh?” I asked curiously.

He considered his words before speaking. “He always tried to warn me against letting myself get too close to you,” he finally admitted, looking somewhere over my shoulder. I wondered if he was picturing Hendricks giving him a disapproving look. “Told me you were too volatile, attracted too much danger. I would just end up getting hurt.”

Stars and stones. That was damn near a confession. Of course, he probably figured I already knew. Had probably assumed I knew since the Arithi. If it ever came up, I was definitely not telling him how long it took me to figure it out. But that was besides the point. He had talked to Hendricks about me. Beyond strategizing ways to fight me or manipulate me. Hendricks had known what he felt for me. If he hadn’t discouraged him… would he have pursued something? Probably not, given the standards he held himself to, but it was interesting to consider.

“Guess he’d have some choice words about you agreeing to marry me,” I surprised myself with how steady my voice was.

“I think he’d be dragging me off for an intervention,” Marcone said with a ghost of a smile.

I hadn’t thought any human-being was capable of dragging Marcone somewhere he didn’t want to go. I wasn’t sure if it was more due to Hendrick’s strength, or Marcone’s respect for his friend, that led to him being able to succeed in doing so. Probably both.

“Does that mean you’re addicted to me?” I asked before I could stop myself, my tone bordering on flirtatious.

Marcone met my eyes thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

My mouth went dry. I forced myself to look away. I couldn’t deal with this right now. “I’m sure Murph would have some words for me, too,” I navigated away from his loaded words. It was the first time I’d been able to say her name without choking on grief. It helped that I was imagining her in Valhalla with Hendricks, the two of them complaining about how stupid Marcone and I were being. “Reckless, insane, and idiot among them.”  

“All accurate,” he noted with a more genuine smile.

I was standing close enough, so I gave him a playful shove. That took him aback. Yeah, I couldn’t manage anyone daring to shove Chicago’s kingpin, even playfully. I wasn’t entirely sure what came over me to lead me to do it. I just smiled, though.

And then I realized. I had just diffused John Marcone. He had been murderously furious mere seconds ago. And now he was smiling. Genuinely smiling. It made it easier to say what I knew I needed to.

“I’m sorry, John,” I said sincerely. “I should have told you. I just didn’t think about it.”

He nodded. “Thank you for the apology. I’m sure it cost you a lot to give it.”

I shrugged, deciding it was best to let him think that. “So, if we’re done with that, do you want to hear my awesome plan for using our problems to solve each other?”

“Is it as reckless as the majority of your plans?” he asked dryly. 

I grinned. “You’ll just have to listen and find out.”

Chapter Text

My plan took a little bit of time to set up. I had to get everyone on board, and then we had to give sufficient notice to all the interested parties. Thankfully, with phase one of the plan in the works, Marcone and I knew the only attacks we would potentially have to worry about would be from Tessa. As expected, though, everything was quiet over the next couple of weeks. Because why should she waste resources now when she had a far better opportunity coming up?

Mab was dubious of my plan, what she knew of it anyway, but all she did was remind me of the consequences should I embarrass her. Then she effectively washed her hands of the matter by having Molly carry out my request.

When the appointed day came, Marcone and I made our way to the rebuilt pavilion at Millennium Park. I hadn’t been back there since the battle, and as soon as we arrived, all of the blood and death came rushing back to me. I remembered the feeling of those under my banner falling. I remembered Murphy’s lifeless body. I remembered the absolutely overwhelming terror of facing a force so beyond anything I could comprehend.

I hadn’t realized I’d stopped. Probably because Marcone had stopped, too. I looked at his face and saw all of my emotions reflected back at me, if under a few layers of polished steel. I reached for his hand, giving it a light squeeze. He looked at me and nodded. And then we proceeded, hand-in-hand, across the park to the pavilion.

We were once again dressed to match, though a bit more casual than past events in deference to the different venue. We both wore grey slacks and a white button-up shirt. Mine was paired with a casual, violet blazer, and his with a green blazer that had a slight golden sheen to it. It was a color trend that had persisted throughout our appearances at official events, and I’d finally realized what it symbolized. We were wearing the color of each other’s magic. Or, probably more accurately, the colors and our magic both symbolized the same part of our respective souls.

“This might just be your worst plan yet,” Marcone commented as we ascended the steps to the stage.

“Really?” I challenged. “Worse than when I gambled with your servitude to a crazy faerie?”

His eyes narrowed. “Not quite,” he said, his voice clipped, and I grinned at him.

Molly appeared in front of us from behind a veil. “You lovebirds ready?” she chirped. 

I glared, dropping Marcone’s hand. “We’re ready.”

“Good. Because it’s too late to call this off.” Her expression grew concerned. “I hope you’re sure about this.”

“It’s too late not to be, Lady Molly,” Marcone said, somehow managing to sound more confident than I had, despite having doubted me ten seconds prior.

“I can’t help,” Molly reminded us. “In any of it.”

“I know,” I assured her. “We’ve got this.”

Marcone checked his watch. “They should start arriving any minute now.”

I clapped my hands. “Places, people!”

The representatives of Summer were the first to arrive. There was a giant’s handful of capable-looking Fae soldiers, and three ogres for added muscle. Titania wasn’t messing around. But if everything went according to plan, that should work in our favor.

Next was House Malvora. Beside the array of Summer’s forces, their numbers looked paltry by comparison. It was still decidedly more White Court vampires than I’d like to take on at one time, though.

The last and smallest group to arrive was of Winter Fae. They avoided looking at their youngest Queen, instead opting to glare at Marcone and me, where we stood behind her. It took some measure of guts for them to show up here, I’d give them that much. They must feel pretty good about their chance of success.

I noted that no ghouls appeared. It looked like LaChaise was actually holding up his end of the bargain. That was fine. I’d find an excuse to take him out one of these days.

The appointed time was mere seconds away, and Molly was preparing to speak, when a curveball arrived. Ebenezar McCoy stepped onto the field. It looked like the White Council took issue with the alliance, after all. Or maybe he was acting on his own. Either way, things just got a whole lot more complicated.

I met my grandfather’s eyes with a silent, desperate plea. He stopped on the outskirts, slightly removed from everyone else, and even from the distance, I could tell that his gaze was searching mine, trying to figure out what my angle was.

“It has come to Winter’s attention,” Molly spoke, her voice magically echoing through the park. “That there are those of you who question the strength of the coming alliance. This is your chance to make your case. Should the Baron perish, you will be absolved of any perceived slight, and there will be no alliance. Should you fail, the Baron may take his retribution in your flesh, and your actions will not be forgotten. There shall be no assistance from Winter, beyond what the Knight chooses to offer, and neither may seek help from outside sources.”

I remembered when I had first laid out the plan to Marcone. 

“It occurs to me,” he had said. “That this would be an excellent way for you to get out of the arranged marriage and take me out once and for all.”

“It occurred to me, too,” I’d replied with a grin. “Trust me, John?”

Apparently, he did. I let my fingers brush against the back of his hand, a silent reassurance. I saw his head move in the barest hint of a nod.

“House Malvora,” Molly continued, shifting her focus to address the vampires. “You should be made aware that Winter has received official notice from the White King that the Court does not condone your actions. Any consequences will be borne by your house alone. Do you accept this?”

A man who bore a distinct, familial resemblance to Vittorio Malvora inclined his head. “It is as you say.”

Molly nodded, and once again addressed the crowd at large. “When the last rays of the sun disappear over the horizon, you may begin making your case.” Which was a fanciful way to refer to a slugfest with Marcone, I thought, but that was Winter for you. 

With the rules delivered, Molly retreated to the back of the stage, leaving Marcone and me staring down a field of faeries and vampires that wanted at least him dead. Oh, and the White Council’s hitman was there, too.

I looked at the sky. We probably had no more than five minutes before the sun was fully set. Well, there was no rule that said I couldn’t talk to them in that time.

I hopped off the stage and politely offered Marcone a hand to help him down. He regarded my hand with some amusement before he took it and climbed down after me.

“Winter Knight,” one of the Summer soldiers stepped forward to greet me. “Our qualms are not with you. You can stay out of this fight.”

“Noted,” I said with a pleasant nod. “Excuse us.”

I navigated around the outskirts of the gathering. Even if it wasn’t time for the fighting to start, I wasn’t about to lead Marcone right through the middle of a bunch of monsters that wanted him dead. I came to a stop in front of Ebenezar.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded in a low voice, making no effort to be polite. There wasn’t time to dance around the issue.

“Getting you out of this mess,” he ground out, shooting a glare behind me, where Marcone had stopped a respectable distance away.

I shook my head. “I have things covered.”

“You intend to fight for him?” he demanded incredulously.

“Yes.” I took a step closer, pitching my voice even quieter to ensure we weren’t overheard. “It didn’t work out so well the last time you tried to hurt someone I care about. Please don’t try it again.”

“You know what he is, boy,” he snarled, but I could see the hint of shame in his eyes. “You know the kinds of things he’s done.”

“Better than you. But he’s more than his bad choices. He’s more than the people he’s hurt. And I would expect you, of all people, to understand that.” As the Blackstaff, Ebenezar carried the burden of deciding when it was appropriate to use dark magic. When to do evil for the greater good. From that perspective, he didn’t have a huge leg to stand on against Marcone.

My grandfather took a deep breath. “You’re sure this is a hill you want to die on?”

I held his gaze as I nodded, showing no doubt.

“Alright, Hoss,” he sighed. “What do you need from me?”

“Harry,” Marcone said tensely, stepping up behind me.

I looked up and was barely able to see the last rays of sunlight. I squared my shoulders and turned to face the hoard of creatures, hungrily waiting for their moment to strike.

“Just stay to the side and out of our way,” I muttered curtly as I began to draw in power. “You heard Molly, we can’t get help in this.”

I could sense Ebenezar’s reluctance, but he shook it off and moved to stand on the very edge of the field. He set his staff down and shoved his hands in his pockets in a very clear statement that he was staying out of the fight.

For a second, the entire park held its breath, and then the final rays of the sun disappeared and several things happened at once.

A wave of utter terror washed over us, coupled with the certainty that we couldn’t possibly survive this. It was House Malvora’s attack, and I had been ready for it. I saw through it the way you might see through an optical illusion once you figured out the trick to it. Though on the other side of this particular illusion was the reality of spells, arrows, knives, spears, bullets and charging ogres all coming right for us. 

I’d already had my spell prepped and ready, though, and as soon as the sun set, I erected my ice wall between us and the enemy forces. It wouldn’t hold for more than a few seconds against the onslaught, but it would be enough. I knelt down, dug my right hand into the earth, and got to work.

Now, earth magic isn’t my forte. But in the right place, with the right magical energies, that didn’t matter. I reached into the earth to the blood that had been spilled there, the blood that I had spilled there. I reached for the tears that had been shed, the losses that had been endured, the victory that had been won. It had been almost a year, but the land remembered. And I remembered. We understood each other, and it would listen to me.

Marcone had reached out a hand to rest on my shoulder. To any casual observer, it would look like a simple gesture meant to show support. But his magic poured into me, giving me further strength. I could feel the bitter sting of the loss he had suffered on this very field, could feel his endless determination. The echo of the banner he’d carried entwined with the echo of my own.

As the ice wall started to crumble, I fed my will into the earth and thundered, “GEODAS!”

The ground shook beneath me as cracks formed mere inches from my hand. And the entire center of the field just collapsed. A giant sinkhole opened up in the middle of the park, swallowing up our enemies with several cries of shock.

Marcone’s people closed in, from where they had been hidden around the perimeter, under his veil. They encircled the killbox that I had made and opened fire. With iron rounds. They were all part of the outfit, all an extension of Marcone’s power. Which meant that they couldn’t be classified as outside sources.

They were quick and efficient, and Marcone only had to worry about picking off a couple who managed to get past them and out of the hole. The fight didn’t last long. Our enemies really didn’t stand a chance. 

“Clear!” one of Marcone’s men called as the gunfire died down.

I rose to my feet unsteadily, taking a deep breath, while Marcone stepped forward to confer with his people. I did a quick inspection of my person, but I’d managed to avoid any icy shards this time. Good. That would suck to be taken down in the warm-up. We still had a lot of fight ahead of us.

Chapter Text

I felt Ebenezar step up beside me. “Some plan, Hoss,” he commented, but I could tell he meant it as a compliment.

“Not over yet,” I said grimly as I turned once again to the stage. Molly was no longer alone on it. She was speaking to another girl about her age, who bore such a striking resemblance to her that they could be related. 

Marcone turned from his men and, as one, we walked back to the stage.

“Knight Dresden, Baron Marcone,” the Summer Lady greeted us as we reached her. “Lady Molly has informed me that you wish to speak.”

“We do,” Marcone spoke respectfully, but with a tone that meant business. “Summer showed up tonight with the intent to put a stop to my coming alliance with Winter by my death. You failed. As dictated at the start of the night, I am entitled to recompense.”

She inclined her head in acknowledgement. “What would you ask of us?”

“A fight for me for a fight against me sounds fair. I would like soldiers to assist in a personal matter, with a promise of discretion. Immediately.”

She considered that for a minute. “I can offer you an equal number of fighters to those sent to oppose you tonight.”

“Equal in number, but not in skill?” Marcone accused. 

“I will provide you what is available on such short notice,” she said, lifting her chin in a decisive motion that warned against argument.

But Marcone didn’t settle. “The best of what is available on short notice, if you wish for this insult to be forgotten.”

Slowly, after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded. “I will provide the best fighters currently available in equal number to those sent against you tonight.”

“The ogres should count as four average-sized fighters,” I chimed in.

Sarissa narrowed her eyes at me just slightly. “I’ll provide two for each ogre,” she allowed.

Marcone inclined his head. “Provide this, and promise that they will not relay anything that they should see or hear tonight, and Summer’s actions tonight will be forgotten.”

She inclined her head as well. “Your troops will arrive forthwith, and they will be under orders not to share anything that should transpire, or any information they learn in your service.” With that, she vanished in a warm breeze.

“This is my cue to leave, too,” Molly sighed. “I wish I could stay and fight.”

“You’ve done plenty, Padawan,” I assured her. “Thanks for your help.”

She gave me a small smile, and then she vanished as well, a burst of cold air in the spring night. 

A moment later, one of Marcone’s men stepped up to my side and offered me my duster and staff. It was a little disconcerting, being brought my things by a member of the Chicago mob, but I shrugged it off along with my blazer, trading it for the comforting weight of my leather duster.

“How much time do you think we have?” I asked, turning to Marcone as I took up my staff.

“Tessa won’t expect the fight to go long,” he reasoned. He had also abandoned his blazer, and was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “I imagine it won’t be long before she checks to see if we survived.”

“What have you two gotten yourselves into?” Ebenezar asked, stepping around the couple of outfit members that were leaving the stage with Marcone’s and my discarded clothing.

“Short version,” I explained, retrieving my blasting rod from inside my duster. “There’s a bunch of Denarians that want us dead, and we figured they’d take the opportunity of us being weakened from battle to finish us off.”

My grandfather shook his head. “How do you constantly get yourself into these situations?”

I shrugged. “Someone taught me to not stand down from doing the right thing.”

He gave a weary laugh and tapped his staff against the ground. “Aye. So, what’s the plan?”

“The plan is you can either leave now or promise me you won’t take issue with the people I’m fighting alongside. And that includes John.” I fixed him with a steady look.

He raised a bushy eyebrow. “Didn’t we just discuss this?”

“Yeah, but there are things you don’t know that might come out in this fight.”

He fixed me with a critical look. “If it’s about the fallen angel in his head, I saw that in the soulgaze.”

“Good to know,” Marcone murmured, while I mentally kicked myself for not thinking about that.

“Okay, well. Keep that information secret, agree to play nice, and you can stay and help,” I decided.

“Sure generous of you,” Ebenezar muttered, but he let it go, looking out over the park. Suddenly, he perked up.

A second later, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, and Marcone also snapped to attention. Showtime.

Marcone made a motion with his hand and all of his people responded to the unspoken command, aiming their weapons at the surrounding area. I extended my awareness, trying to get a sense of what direction they were approaching from. What I discovered wasn’t pleasant.

“We’re surrounded,” Ebenezar announced what I had just sensed.

A lance of hellfire roared out of the sky, painting a fiery line before the stage, cutting right through those of Marcone’s people who didn’t get out of the way in time. Gunfire opened up on the sky as a red-skinned she-demon soared down with batlike wings. If any made contact with her, she brushed it off and landed at the right edge of the field, fixing us with her haunted gaze.

 A second creature crawled spider-like onto the field opposite her, covered in shaggy, grey feathers and with fleshy tendrils where its head should be. Two more appeared on either side of the stage. On one side was what looked like an androgynous statue made of obsidian, and on the other was something that resembled a woman carved from a tree root. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, a large, green-scaled beast with spiraling antlers dropped from the top of the pavilion to land behind us. Tessa arrived last, descending from the sky in her preying mantis form to land in front of us.

Empty night. Six Denarians. That was decidedly more than we’d been expecting.

Tessa’s insectoid head peeled back from her face, revealing two sets of green eyes, one decidedly creepier than the other, and a cruel smile. Of course she wanted to gloat.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed playing house, Namshiel,” she purred. “Because you won’t like what I have in store for you once I retrieve you from your host’s corpse.”

Marcone leveled his gun at her head and pulled the trigger. She barely managed a shield in time. “Namshiel may engage in your antics,” he said evenly. “But I prefer to get to the point.”

The red-skinned demoness stepped forward, her dark eyes imploring beneath the glowing green pair. “You should let him speak to her,” Rosanna advised. “If Namshiel is willing to be reasonable, things could go easier for the both of you.”

He responded to her sympathetic act with a shark-like smile. “Namshiel has agreed to let me control the conversation. And there is nothing that needs to be said to either of you.”

“What’s with the stalling, anyway?” I asked conversationally, glancing around at the Denarians that had us surrounded. “You scared?”

Tessa’s eyes narrowed. “Kill them all,” she snarled, as she lifted her chitin to once again encase her head.

All hell broke loose.

Tree Woman unleashed a cord of shadow in our direction, which Marcone countered swiftly before turning his attention to the charging form of Shaggy Feathers. Ebenezar went on the defensive, fending off attacks from both Obsidian Statue and Rosanna. And I whirled around, bringing my shield up just in time to stop the charge of Jolly Green.

“Fuego!” I shouted, dropping my shield and aiming my blasting rod out in front of me. Fire poured forth, engulfing the creature before me.

I felt something at my back, and I was suddenly being hauled to the side. I reared back with an elbow, but whoever had a fist in the back of my duster had expected it and dodged. And then a red and black blur landed in the space I had been just a second prior, serrated arms closing around empty air.

Marcone released me and unleashed an electrified pulse in a semi-circle around us, managing to strike Tessa, Shaggy Feathers, and Tree Woman all at once.

On the field, Rosanna’s hellfire had died down, and Marcone’s remaining people were spreading out in an attempt to get a clear shot at any of the Denarians. But they were all moving too fast, in too close proximity to us. And in order to take out one of the Fallen with a bullet, you needed to be more precise than current circumstances allowed. But they weren’t our only forces.

The fighters Sarissa had promised had arrived, pouring onto the field. I caught sight of a couple of centaurs, several small elves, and a few faerie hounds. It wasn’t much, but I’d take what we could get. They didn’t hesitate before launching into battle, the centaurs and elves taking aim with their bows, while the hounds went charging for the nearest Denarians. They weren’t much of a challenge for the Fallen, but they did force them to divide their attention.

I grinned fiercely as I spun to put my back to Marcone and unleashed a burst of force into the recovered Jolly Green, sending him careening into Obsidian Statue, who responded with annoyance as the impact interrupted the blow that had been aimed at my grandfather. I raised my staff in my left hand, preparing a suckerpunch with the kinetic energy stored within, but before I could unleash it, a fleshy tentacle curled around my wrist, yanking me off balance.

I whirled and unleashed the kinetic burst at Shaggy Feathers instead, but only managed a glancing blow as it continued to tug at my wrist. It stumbled back, but kept its grip, and another tendril snapped out to encircle my free wrist, pulling me after it.

I fought against the Denarian’s grip, calling on the strength of Winter, but it did little good. Shaggy Feathers’s hellish strength was at least on par with mine, and its tentacles had tightly wound around my arm in multiple loops that seemed resistant to breaking. So, I did the only thing I could do.

I crossed my wrists over each other, overlapping its tendrils to gain more leverage. “Sorry to break it to you, but I’m not into hentai,” I said as I jerked my arms downward, sending the feathery form crashing to the ground.

I guess it took offense because, instead of releasing me, its tentacles tightened their grip. It got its appendages beneath it again and used them to scurry backwards, pulling me with it.

And suddenly, the pavilion flared with a new light, far brighter than hellfire, and infinitely more invigorating. It left all the Denarians recoiling on pure instinct. Even Marcone flinched just slightly as the three Knights of the Cross joined the fray.

Sanya brought the Sword of Hope to bear against Rosanna, driving his former handler away from the centaur she’d been on the verge of finishing off. Butters raised the Sword of Faith in front of Marcone, the lightsaber disrupting Tree Root’s shadow serpent that had been making its way for him. And Amoracchius, the Sword of Love, swept down maybe a foot in front of me, cleanly severing the tendrils bound around my wrists.

The newest Knight gave me a fierce smile, dark hair framing his handsome face. “Looked like you could use some help.”

I returned my brother’s smile, shaking the tentacle remains from my arms. “About time you showed up, asshole.”

Chapter Text

A few days before the date Mab had set for the case against the alliance, I decided that it was finally time to pay a visit to Demonreach. To see my brother. I didn’t share the details with Marcone, but he gave me the use of one of his boats without asking too many questions.

I came to a stop in front of Thomas’s crystal prison and rested my hand against it. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, barely able to get the words out. “I’m sorry I’ve left you here so long. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner. I’m sorry I don’t know where Justine and your child are. I’m so sorry, Thomas.” I sighed, letting my forehead fall against the crystal, the silhouette of my brother just visible inside.

“Harry?” I heard his voice in my head. It was weak, but it was there.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me.”

“How long?” he asked.

“Almost a year,” I admitted guiltily. I let myself sink down to sit on the ground, using his crystal for support. “That night… all hell broke loose, and then some. It was bad, Thomas. Real bad. Chicago was almost leveled. I didn’t realize till afterward what you were trying to tell me.” I took a deep breath. He deserved the details. Especially after all this time I’d put off visiting him. “Justine wanted me to take her to you. We were almost here when I put the pieces together. She was banking on all of this. If I’d brought her down here as my guest, the adversary could’ve gotten access to Demonreach. I jumped off the boat. She swam to shore somewhere…. Lara and I have been searching, but we haven’t been able to find her.”

Thomas was silent for a couple minutes. “What else’ve I missed?”

I filled him in on everything. On Ethniu and the Battle of Chicago. On Murphy. On the aftermath and the war with the Fomor. I also filled him in on being kicked out of the White Council and taking up as Wizard of Chicago.

“Empty night,” his psychic voice had a breathless quality to it. “Been busy.”

“That was just the first week,” I said with a rueful laugh. I let that sit for a minute before I added, almost as an afterthought. “I’m engaged.”

“What?!” The shock was enough that his voice came through more clearly.

I smiled. “Mab’s idea. Show the strength of the Accords and all that. Decided to marry me off to Lara.”

“You can’t,” he gasped, sounding strained and horrified.

“I know. Got her to give me options. So, I’m marrying Marcone instead.”

“Not funny, Harry.”

“No,” I agreed. “But it’s happening. Wedding’s in a little over three months.”

Silence. “You’re serious?” he asked tentatively.

“Yep.”

“How’re you getting out?”

I gave a hollow laugh. “I’m not.” How ironic that I’d finally figured a way out of the arranged marriage, but now I was unwilling to take it. Or maybe I always would’ve been unwilling. For all my threats against Marcone, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever truly wanted him dead.

“WARDEN.”

I looked up as the tall, shadowy form of the island’s genius loci appeared in front of me. I nodded in greeting. “Hey, Alfred. What’s up?”

His completely hooded head tilted upward. “THERE ARE MORE PRISONERS ABOVE US.”

I sighed. “Yeah.” The spirit wasn’t the greatest conversationalist. To think he’d been my only company for a while. “What can you tell me about Thomas’s status?”

“HIS LIFEFORCE IS STABLE. HIS PARASITE IS NOT. IF THE PARASITE IS REMOVED FROM STASIS, IT WILL FEED AND KILL HIM.”

“Yeah, figured,” I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. I’d known it would be the answer, but it still hurt to hear it. I just wanted my brother back, dammit!

“DO YOU WISH TO RELEASE YOUR BLOOD KIN WITHOUT THE PARASITE?”

It felt like the world suddenly froze around me. My heart hammered, my blood pounding in my ears. “You mean, I can release Thomas without his Hunger?” I asked slowly, hardly daring to believe it.

“YES.”

My hands were shaking. “And he’ll be okay?”

“HIS LIFEFORCE IS STABLE,” he repeated. “WHAT HAPPENS WHEN HE IS REMOVED FROM STASIS IS UNKNOWN.”

I let that sink in. His body was okay. He wasn’t in any immediate danger of dying. But there could be unforeseen consequences to separating him from his demon. Did I dare risk it?

“Harry,” I heard Thomas’s voice in my head again. He sounded hopeful, almost desperate. “Do it.”

Well, who was I to deny him the freedom of choice? I nodded. “Let’s do it.”

A couple hours later, and I was in my makeshift armory with my brother. He was weak, huddled in the corner, and gulping down a bottle of water. He was still handsome, but not as inhumanly beautiful as he had once been. And when he opened his eyes to look at me, they were light blue with no hint of silver.

“How are you feeling?” I asked gently, passing him some jerky I had stashed there. 

He tore into it hungrily, not speaking until he’d devoured the whole thing. “Terrible,” he said with a breathy laugh. “It’s great.”

I sank down to sit beside him. “You should stay here for a bit. Recover.”

He nodded in agreement. “What’ll you be doing?”

“The usual,” I said with a shrug. “Playing wizard, Maggie’s on summer break now, and I’m gearing up for a fight next weekend.”

He shook his head and looked over at me. “What is it this time?”

“Denarians. Probably three or four of them.”

“Need help?”

“No,” I immediately shook my head. My brother was human now. I couldn't be dragging him into fights. 

Thomas’s eyes narrowed. He knew exactly what my reasoning was. “I can still fight, Harry.”

“Sure you can,” I agreed without looking at him. “Just give it more time.” Murphy could fight, too. But against some threats, that just wasn’t enough. I’d just gotten my brother back and I was not about to lose him again.

“Not happening, bonehead.” He kicked out a leg to lightly hit mine. “You’re not doing that thing where you refuse help just because you’re big, bad Harry Dresden and only you can possibly understand the risks. I’ve helped you fight Denarians before.”

“Yeah, but you had your White Court mojo,” I pointed out, deciding to stop beating around the bush.

“I don’t need vampire strength and speed to kick your ass, little brother,” he said with a grin. “Which I will do, if you try to stop me from helping you.”

He sounded like Murphy, refusing to stand down last summer. It hurt. “Thomas-”

“You’re my brother,” he cut me off. “I’m not standing by while you’re in danger. Period.”

I heaved a sigh. “That’s not fair.”

“Tough.” He shrugged. “How many days do I have to recover?”

“Five,” I said reluctantly.

“Should be good enough by then.”

“I don’t have your weapons,” I tried half-heartedly. “The Water Beetle crashed.”

“Oh no,” he said with heavy sarcasm. “If only we weren’t currently sitting in an armory.”

We both looked around the room. Our gazes both landed on the same thing. Oh. Was that the play? If so, it really wasn’t my place to argue. 

Thoughtfully, I walked over and picked up the broadsword. When I turned around, Thomas was shaking his head. “No, that… I’d fuck up.”

“Maybe,” I shrugged. “Maybe not.” I offered it out to him. “Only you’ll know if it feels right.”

He hesitated for a good long while, then unsteadily got to his feet and made his way over to me. He took the sword, frowning down at it. “They all have different meanings, right?”

“Yeah,” I answered softly. 

“What’s this one?”

I couldn’t help the grin forming on my face. “Love.”

*

Thomas spun to face Shaggy Feathers, who was frantically scurrying away from the Knight of Love and his holy sword. Feeling he probably had that handled, I turned to where Marcone was holding off a charge from Jolly Green. Behind him, Tessa had peeled back her chitin again, and was looking around at the Knights with wide eyes. What happened next, I registered in slow motion.

Tessa’s eyes narrowed with determination, and I could sense her drawing in power. She spat an ugly-sounding word and whirled, her right hand outstretched to Marcone. A thin current of bright red liquid flowed through the air with an edge sharp enough to slice skin. Her daughter, Deirdre, had mentioned the spell to me once. ‘Bloody scalpel’ she’d called it. Apparently, Tessa had used it to slice the throat of Marcone’s financial advisor. And now she intended it to slice his throat, as well.

I didn’t have time to gather power, to pull up a shield, so I just dove forward, tackling Marcone. I felt the faint impact of the blood blade through my enchanted duster, but was shielded from any damage as the two of us went sprawling to the ground. I heard Tessa yowl in outrage.

“Harry,” Marcone said crossly, glaring up at me.

I quickly brought up my shield in a dome around us before Jolly Green could take advantage of Marcone’s broken concentration. “Saved your life,” I spit out through the effort.

“Then thank you, but could you do me the courtesy of getting off me, please?”

I scrambled to my feet, carefully keeping the shield around us. I took the chance to survey the battlefield. The last of Summer’s forces had overtaken Tree Woman, Obsidian Statue lay in pieces around Ebenezar, and Shaggy Feathers’s tentacle head had been removed from its feathery body. Thomas and Butters had moved to flank Jolly Green. Rosanna was retreating towards Tessa, closely pursued by both Sanya and Ebenezar.

I dropped my shield and gathered my will, pouring everything I had left into my next spell. “Laqueus!” I snarled and a cord of soulfire-infused force lashed out at Tessa, wrapping around her neck and pulling tight. Her hands scrambled at her throat, her eyes going wide when she realized she couldn’t dispel the soulfire.

Marcone stepped up beside me. “If I didn’t make myself clear, Tessa dear,” Namshiel spoke. “I’m done with your interference.”

“Oh, you don’t get the last word,” I spat. “She can have you, for all I care.”

There was an amused twitch of lips that I was wholly certain came from Marcone, and not the Fallen. “How fortunate, then,” Namshiel’s voice took on a sardonic tone, “that I am in your baron.”

Your baron. Huh. I didn’t correct him. Because I had other things to focus on, not because I liked the sound of it. Okay, fine, both could be true.

Tessa wasn’t looking too good, and her panic had spread to her second in command. Rosanna shifted into human form and fell to her knees. “My beast,” she pleaded, and though I couldn’t see her face, I could clearly imagine her dark, sad eyes looking up at Sanya. “Don’t let the wizard kill her. Please.”

Sanya lifted a hand to stop Ebenezar’s advance and he looked up at me. “Harry.”

“You know she’s not turning over a new leaf,” I argued. “I let her go, she escapes, and we do this dance again somewhere down the line.” 

“Da,” he agreed. “But is what we must do.”

I scowled. Maybe if Sanya hadn’t chased me down the last time I’d gone too far, I would have resisted more. But him talking me down now brought up memories I was still ashamed of, and I wasn’t about to risk going that far again.

I loosened the soulfire garrote just enough that Tessa was no longer in immediate danger of passing out. “Tessa,” I said in a cold voice. “Drop the coin and surrender.”

She glared daggers at me, but she extended her arm and her exoskeleton peeled away from her hand to reveal the blackened denarius. Slowly, she slid down to her knees and dropped the coin in front of her, her insectoid form instantly dissolving into that of a petite, fifteen-year-old girl. I released the spell.

Immediately, it was like a flashbang went off, and I was temporarily blinded. I blinked several times, and when my sight returned Tessa, Rosanna, and Imariel’s coin were all gone.

Chapter Text

Marcone dismissed the remains of Summer’s forces while the Knights busied themselves collecting coins from the fallen Denarians. When he turned back to me, I had my arms crossed stubbornly over my chest.

“Let me guess,” I said before he could open his mouth. “You’re going to chastise me for letting her go.”

He regarded me thoughtfully for a moment before he shook his head. “No.”

“No?” I asked skeptically.

“No,” he repeated simply. “Would I have shown her mercy? Definitely not. But you were the one in a position to kill her. And I’m not about to ask you to compromise your morals.”

“Oh.” I dropped my arms to my sides. “Thanks.”

“Should we be worried about her coming back?” Ebenezar asked as he came to my side.

Marcone and I both shook our heads. “She’ll chalk this up to a loss,” I said confidently.

“Her vendetta against us isn’t worth the loss of resources,” Marcone agreed. “If the opportunity presents itself in the future to get revenge, she’ll take it. But until then, Harry is right. She’s lost too much already.”

“Da,” Sanya agreed brightly, stepping up beside Marcone. “Four coins tonight, plus two in February. Is a win.” He turned his smile on Marcone. “Care to add one more?”

Marcone seized up Sanya as though trying to gauge if the Knight meant to fight him if he refused. “No, thank you,” he replied carefully.

Sanya shrugged. “Offer stands.”

“Wait.” Thomas stopped at my side and was looking at Marcone incredulously. “You have a coin?” He spun to me. “You didn’t tell me that.”  

“There was a lot to cover,” I said defensively, acutely aware that Ebenezar and Thomas were now standing on either side of me. And Ebenezar was staring at him. I fixed our grandfather with a hard look.

“Mr. Raith,” Marcone greeted politely, then pointedly added, “Your presence is a surprise.” That comment was definitely meant for me, but I ignored it.

“Well, clearly Harry didn’t want to inform any Denarians I was coming,” Thomas said with a smirk.

“That’s all the coins,” Butters announced as he approached the group. “We should get them into safekeeping. Need a lift?” he added to Sanya.

“Please.” Sanya nodded to me. “Always good fighting with you. Let us know if you change your mind,” he added good-naturedly to Marcone before starting towards the parking lot.

“Seeya, Harry,” Butters said.

“Seeya,” I replied. “Thanks for the assist.”

“Anytime.”

As the two Knights retreated to the parking lot, Thomas spared a wary glance towards Ebenezar. “Maybe I should go with them,” he muttered.

I placed my hand on my brother’s shoulder, both in comfort and in statement. “Nah, you’re with us.” I gave our grandfather a pointed look. If he didn’t like it, he could leave. And I’d be having words with him later.

The old man gave Thomas another once-over, appearing conflicted. Hey, it was better than murderous. “So, you’re a Knight of the Cross, now?” he finally asked gruffly.

Thomas shifted to face him more fully. “Apparently,” he shrugged, casual despite the tension thrumming through him.

Ebenezar grunted. “How’d that happen?”

“Well, I’m human now, so I needed a new schtick.” 

I saw the old man’s eyes widen slightly as he realized that the changes he was seeing weren’t just an illusion or the result of Thomas picking up the sword. I wasn’t focused on Marcone, but I could sense his surprise, too.

“Human?” Ebenezar repeated.

“Yep,” Thomas confirmed with a lazy grin. “You can thank Harry for that.”

He looked up at me. “What did you do?” he demanded tensely.

“I released him from Demonreach,” I explained casually. “But kept his Hunger contained.”

He swore as he shook his head. “You’re playing with fire on that island, boy,” he warned.

I shrugged. “It’s worked out so far.”

Ebenezar gave me a look that somehow managed to communicate the sentiment that everything works out until it doesn’t, and then turned back to Thomas. “Were you in favor of this?” He kept his emotions close to his chest, but I could tell he was trying to gauge something from his oldest grandson. To see what kind of person he was. Since wielding a holy sword apparently wasn’t enough for him.

“I asked him to do it,” Thomas answered deliberately. He could tell he was being tested, too, even if he didn’t fully understand why. But like hell was I going to tell him about our relationship to Ebenezar if it was just going to give him another family member who hated him.

Ebenezar breathed out a long exhale through his nose, and then seemed to come to some kind of decision. “It appears I owe you an apology, Raith.”

Thomas blinked in surprise. I could’ve sunk to the ground in my relief. 

“I don’t know about that,” Thomas awkwardly refuted.

Ebenzar’s eyes narrowed. “Accept the apology before I change my mind.”

My brother gave a wry chuckle. “Okay, yeah. Apology accepted.” He held out his hand.

Our grandfather regarded it for a moment before he clasped it and gave it a brief shake. “Should get going,” he muttered, dropping his hand. He pointed to me. “We’ll talk later.” He began to turn to go, but then he paused. He let out a sigh as he looked back at Thomas. “You’re no longer part of the White Court. That loses you some protection. You should… watch your step for a while.”

I almost reeled back at the force of my surprise. That sounded an awful lot like the warnings he’d given to me in recent years. Particularly this last year. And it occurred to me that my brother was in a very similar position to me, right now. Just two Knights who no longer belonged with our people. Being cautioned by our grandfather.

Thomas couldn’t keep his own surprise off his face as he nodded. “Thanks for the warning.”

Ebenezar gave a sharp nod, then turned and walked away. I knew that he hadn’t fully accepted Thomas as his grandson yet. That would take time. But he had accepted him as a person, and that was a step in the right direction.

“Well, that was weird,” Thomas said once he was gone.

“He’s processing some things,” I provided helpfully.

He turned to me with a confused frown. “What kinds of things?”

I stared at my brother, wondering if I should tell him. But now wasn’t the time. It could wait until Ebenezar had a better handle on things. And when we weren’t under the calculating gaze of Marcone, who was not even trying to hide his interest in our family dynamic. Besides, Thomas had enough to adjust to without adding a reluctant grandfather to the mix.

“He has issues with my engagement,” I said instead because it was also the truth.

“Right.” He rounded on Marcone. “So, you’re marrying this idiot?” he asked, jerking his thumb back at me.

“Hey!” I protested, but they both ignored me.

“I am,” Marcone answered easily. “I would invite you to the wedding, but that could be awkward, considering that you escaped when I had sworn to hold you prisoner.”

“That does sound awfully embarrassing for you,” Thomas acknowledged. He bared his teeth in a smile. “But your fiance already invited me. I’ll be there.”

Marcone shifted his glare to me. “Harry, I’m sure even you can understand the complications in that the Svartalves entrusted me to keep Mr. Raith secure, and if he shows up now with my fiance, that would look very bad on me.”

“Well, gee, John,” I said with a shrug. “Guess you’d better help me figure out how to clear his name, then.”

My well-honed instincts instructed me that I should ready a shield given the look I was getting, but I simply held his gaze, unafraid. Yeah, Marcone was terrifying, but I was pretty sure at this point that he wasn’t going to hurt me.

“I do not appreciate being strong-armed, Dresden,” he said coolly.

“Well, what if I ask nicely, then?” I smiled and playfully fluttered my eyelashes at him. “Pretty please, John? With a cherry on top?”

Thomas coughed to cover up a laugh. I wasn’t sure if it was at the situation or at my poor excuse for flirting, but either way, I elbowed him in the ribs. He just smirked at me in response.

Marcone, meanwhile, had gone still, and his glare had faltered. Well, what did you know? I did have power over him. I would swear to only use that power for good, but that would be a blatant lie.

“Only because, as I already told you, your family is under my protection,” he sighed.

Thomas raised an eyebrow at me. “You told him?” There was nothing accusatory in his voice, merely curious.

“He figured it out,” I clarified.

“You gave me the information to do so,” Marcone pointed out.

“Not intentionally.”

“Well, good.” Thomas turned back to Marcone with a smile. “Now I know you’ll believe me when I say if you hurt my little brother, being a holy Knight will not stop me from killing you.”

Marcone’s answering smile was chilling. “You should be more careful with your threats, Sir Knight. If I had any desire to take that sword of yours out of commission, you have just handed me an easy way to do so.”

“Maybe you should be more careful, Johnny, because that sure sounded like a threat.” Thomas took a step towards him. “And I am perfectly capable of putting this sword down and picking up something else. But if the fallen angel in your head decides to come out and play, I don’t really need to do that, do I?”

Deciding that was my cue to intervene, I jumped between them, a hand on both their chests. “Cool it, both of you. You’ve made your points. And John, if you even think about doing something like that, you’re back on my shit list.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I wasn’t aware I was off it.”

“You’re stuck in the revolving door.” I dropped my hands, shaking my head. “Let’s go home. I’ll call Lara in the morning, and we’ll see if we can figure this all out.”

“So, he’s staying with us?” Marcone confirmed.

“We have a free room.” And I knew Thomas wouldn’t want to go back to his apartment without Justine. I turned towards the parking lot. “To the Munstermobile.” Na-na Na-na Na.

Chapter Text

It was surprisingly simple to settle things with the Svartalves, at least compared to how things normally went in my life. As Marcone and Lara pointed out, Thomas was no longer White Court, and the Knights of the Cross weren’t signatories of the Accords, so there were technically no legal ramifications. Of course, that didn’t stop anyone from seeking out personal revenge against Thomas, but the Knights were afforded a certain level of respect. So the Svartalves heard him out. It took a lot of negotiation, but everything was settled within the month with no bloodshed.

Between putting a stop to everyone who had been coming after Marcone, getting my brother back, and clearing his name with the Svartalves, I was feeling considerably lighter than I had in some time. The only downside was that now that things had calmed down and we didn’t have to worry about imminent attack, I had to start filling my role as fiance to the most powerful man in Chicago. Which meant showing up on his arm to all the most draining events that Chicago had to offer.

While there were rumors, and several in Marcone’s circle were aware, our engagement wasn’t yet known to the greater Chicago area. So, these events were… interesting. Multiple people didn’t seem to be able to tell whether or not Marcone was joking when he introduced me as his fiance, and most were unable to completely hide their surprise. I wasn’t sure if I should be insulted, or if it was just that surprising that Marcone would be getting married in the first place. For the sake of my ego, I decided to think the latter. Though, to be fair, I might as well have been wearing a sign that declared ‘I don’t belong here’ for how well I fit in with these people, so maybe that had something to do with it, too.

I stepped back up to Marcone’s side after taking a few precious moments to hide out in the bathroom, and a severe-looking woman who looked to be in her sixties immediately broke off her conversation with him to glare at me. “Can we help you?” she demanded coolly.

My eyebrows shot up as I took in her dress and jewelry that was probably worth more than the combination of everything in my castle that had not been provided by Marcone. I wondered if she could smell the lower-middle class on me. “Uh…”

“Ms. Moore, this is my fiance, Harry Dresden,” Marcone swooped in eloquently.

“Oh!” The coldness immediately dissipated from her expression, and her cheeks looked slightly redder beneath her blush. “I didn’t realize….” She shook her head slightly and extended her hand. “I’m Cynthia Moore. I gave a charitable donation to the View.”

Right. The Chicago View - the new, outrageously expensive hotel to get the rich coming to Chicago again and generate revenue. Tonight was the opening party for all the powerful people in Chicago who had had a hand in it. Gotta love the people who considered donating to build a swanky hotel ‘charity’, when there were still thousands who were without housing. Maybe I was being cynical, but I figured she probably just did it to get a conference room named after her.

“How noble of you,” I muttered and turned to Marcone without shaking her hand. Hey, she snubbed me, I’d snub her back. “Think I’m gonna grab a drink. You want one?” I didn’t particularly feel like sticking around to make small talk with Ms. Charitable Donation.

Marcone arched an eyebrow at me, but didn’t comment on my behavior. “I’ll come with you.” He nodded to his generous donor. “Ms. Moore.”

Evidently worried about losing the respect of a known criminal, Ms. Moore hurriedly caught at my arm. “Mr. Dresden, I am sorry that we got off on the wrong foot. I did not realize you were engaged to Mr. Marcone.”

I glanced over my shoulder at her as I turned away. “Course. Why would you be nice to someone before knowing who they are and what they can do for you?” I gave her a tight smile before shaking off her hand and making my way towards a table at the edge of the room covered in champagne glasses.

“I know,” I muttered once we were out of earshot. “I should’ve been polite.”

Marcone chuckled. “On the contrary, I would hope no one would expect me to marry someone who would let people insult him.”

“Thought I was supposed to be on my best behavior?” I asked, surprised, as I grabbed a couple glasses from the table.

“You are. But that doesn’t mean I expect you to allow someone to treat you poorly. In fact, I would prefer you didn’t.”

I smiled as I turned back to him, passing him a glass. “Good to know.”

We stepped out of the way of the table and sipped our drinks. I assumed it must be pretty good champagne, but honestly, it all tasted the same to me. I couldn’t believe that this kind of thing was just a part of my life now. I wondered if I would ever get used to it.

“Do you actually enjoy these things?” I asked curiously.

Marcone’s lips twitched. “Define enjoy.”

I laughed genuinely at that. 

“There are things I like about them,” he continued. “They showcase the strength and power of Chicago, and there are people that I enjoy networking with. But they do get… tedious.”

“And where do the women fighting to get a piece of you fall on that scale?” I asked with a teasing grin.

Indeed, it seemed like almost every middle-aged, single woman in Chicago was fluttering her eyelashes the second Marcone got in range, and they all became noticeably disappointed as soon as he introduced me. One went so far as to touch his arm affectionately as she greeted him, and with her, I didn’t wait for Marcone to introduce me. I’d cut right in to tell her who I was, and might have gotten a teensy bit possessive. Look, I was just keeping up appearances, okay? And it got real old real fast, watching dozens of women flirting with my fiance, real relationship or not.

Marcone sighed tiredly. “Putting a stop to that is a perk to this marriage that I hadn’t considered.”

“Yeah,” I nodded as though I could relate. “Having a bunch of women throw themselves at you is exhausting. Shut up,” I added defensively at his amused smile. “Some people find me attractive.”

His amusement only grew at that. “You’re telling me?” he asked pointedly.

“Um…” I felt my cheeks heating up and I stared down into my champagne. Even knowing how he felt about me, it never prepared me for him actually acknowledging it.

“I will admit, these events are made more enjoyable with company,” he added casually.

My eyes snapped back to him in surprise and immediately met his, already looking at me. I swallowed thickly and found myself wondering if it would be reasonable to kiss him under the guise of keeping up appearances.

“Marcone,” I was saved from formulating a response by a deep baritone and looked up to see a fairly fit man, maybe slightly younger than Marcone, walking towards us.

Marcone immediately snapped into business-mode as he turned to face the other man. “Pruit,” he greeted in a clipped tone. A glance to the side showed that he was holding his shoulders stiffly, his chin tilted upwards. Not one of those people he liked to network with, then, I was guessing.

Pruit’s eyes slid from Marcone to myself, narrowing slightly. “So, this is him, then? Dresden, was it?”

“Yes.” The hand that wasn’t holding his champagne glass came to rest on my bicep and I got a sense of warning from that touch, as though Marcone was trying to physically hold me in line. The fact that he hadn’t done this with anyone else made me consider actually cooperating with his silent request, but I hadn’t made any final decisions yet. “Harry, this is Jaron Pruit. He works for me.”

Ah, that explained it. Someone high up in the outfit, I was guessing. Had to be someone with decent influence to be at an event like this, not to mention he was apparently one of the few that Marcone had told about me. Great.

“Pruit, meet my fiance, Harry Dresden,” Marcone continued, and I noticed there was a coolness in his gaze as he looked at the other mobster.

Pruit let out a noise that was just shy of being a scoff as he looked at me. “So, what is it you’re after, then?”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You can’t expect me to believe you’re getting hitched to the boss and aren’t trying to get something out of it.”

Marcone opened his mouth, probably to tell him off judging from the look on his face, but I laughed, cutting him off. “I’m sorry, have you seen all the women chasing after him? He’s a catch.”

Pruit’s mouth twisted in distaste. “All the women, yes.”

Oh. So that’s what was going on. Marcone had said he had enough influence that being out wouldn’t be a problem for him, but he’d also mentioned that there were some in his organization that were… well, old-fashioned was putting it nicer than they deserved. It looked like Pruit was one of those. That explained why Marcone hadn’t seemed all too happy to see him here.

I shrugged, deciding to deliberately misunderstand him. “Guess I was the first guy bold enough to shoot my shot.”

“Harry,” Marcone cut in without taking his eyes off Pruit. “Would you mind giving us a minute?”

I looked between the two of them before my gaze came to rest on Marcone, my brows furrowing in concern. “You sure?” I asked, then immediately felt like an idiot because he was the kingpin of Chicago and had dealt with far worse than one homophobic lieutenant. 

“Yes,” he answered calmly.

I nodded. “Okay. But let me set one thing straight,” I added, turning back to Pruit with narrowed eyes. “I’m not marrying John for his reputation or his influence. I don’t need to. And only an idiot would try to use him like that. Or accuse him of letting someone use him.” I gave him a smile that was all teeth. “Was nice meeting you, Jaron.” And then just to get under his skin, I ducked down to kiss Marcone on the cheek before walking away.

I discarded my mostly empty glass on a nearby tray and made my way to the snack table - or I guess I should call it the hor’s d'oeuvre table at something like this - and started making myself a plate. As I did, I Listened. Listening isn’t a magical skill, per say, but I’m sure magic helps with it. I focused on Marcone’s and Pruit’s voices, blocking out all other sounds to be able to hear them from the distance.

“-explain to me what you think you’re doing,” Marcone was saying coldly.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you should know - people are talking,” Pruit said earnestly. “They have their doubts. Now that I’ve met the guy, maybe I can help appease them. You know I respect you, and I’d hate to see people revolting against you.”

“So, appease them,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Uh, well…” Pruit stumbled over his words. “I’m just not really sure-”  

“No, but I’m sure more money will make you sure,” Marcone cut him off, his tone flat. “Or more power? That’s what this is all about, after all. A sloppy attempt to blackmail me.”

“I’d never!” he immediately refuted, some panic slipping into his voice. “I want to help, but I’m just sayin’, I have my reservations.”

“I don’t care about your reservations and I don’t care about people talking. If you-”

I jumped as someone tapped me on my shoulder.

“Oh, sorry!” a young woman with deep brown hair and matching eyes held her hands up in a calming gesture. “I was just hoping to get some bruschetta.” She pointed to some slices of bread with tomatoes on top that I was blocking. I’d been so focused on the conversation, I’d forgotten to pay attention to my surroundings.

“Sorry,” I said, stepping aside. “I was… lost in thought.”

“Don’t worry about it. Free food does that to me, too.” She gave me a smile as she dished up some bruschetta. 

I laughed. “Well, I’m just lucky you were nicer about it than some of the other people I’ve met tonight would’ve been.”

“Oh, you’ve met my mother?” she asked brightly as she moved away from the table to join me by the wall.

“Maybe,” I said with an amused smile. “Who’s your mother?”

“Cynthia Moore.”

“Oh.”

She laughed at the look on my face. “Yeah, she has that effect on people. And, no offense, but this doesn’t exactly look like your scene.”

“It’s not,” I admitted.

“It’s not my favorite, either, but I grew up in it, so I’m kind of used to it.” She extended her hand to me. “I’m Crescenda Moore.”

“Harry Dresden,” I supplied, shaking her hand.

“What do you do, Mr. Dresden?”

“I’m a private detective.” I’d decided it was simpler to not say ‘Wizard of Chicago’ at these kinds of events. I got enough weird looks, as it was.

“Oh, that sounds fascinating. How’d you get into that?” she asked, sounding genuinely interested. 

I shrugged. “I had a natural gift, and I wanted to use it to help people.”

“That’s really admirable.”

“It is,” said a voice behind me, and then Marcone’s hand was pressed against my lower back. “Hello, Miss Moore, I see you have met my fiance.”

Crescenda’s eyes went wide and I blinked over at Marcone to see him looking at her with a very tight, pointed smile. Huh. It looked like it was his turn to act all possessive. It wasn’t a bad look on him, though I did feel bad that it was directed at someone as kind as Crescenda. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize…” Crescenda was saying, looking between the two of us with some confusion in her eyes.

“Yeah.” I turned back to her with an apologetic shrug. “That’s how I got roped into this thing.”

“I see. Well, it was very nice to meet you, Mr. Dresden. Mr. Marcone.” She inclined her head respectfully before disappearing into the crowd. 

“She was just being nice,” I defended, turning to face Marcone.

He looked at me in disbelief. “Given your apparent inability to realize when someone is interested in you, I’m starting to question your skill as a detective.”

I blinked in surprise. I supposed I didn’t have the best track record with that, so maybe I should take his word for it. I dismissed it with a shake of my head and nodded back in the direction where Pruit had been. “Should I be worried?”

Marcone studied my face carefully. “You were listening,” he realized. 

“I’m a good detective,” I said with a smirk.

He shook his head. “He’s clumsy and desperate, and soon won’t be in the picture.”

Meaning he’d be dead. Marcone couldn’t employ someone who had dared to pull a stunt like that. And you didn’t get fired from the mob. I grimaced. Even though the guy was scum, I still took issue with murder. But to Marcone, murder was on par with filing paperwork; it was just part of his day-to-day life. That wasn’t changing. And all I could do was willfully ignore it.

“He said people were talking,” I said in a low voice.

“He was trying to scare me,” Marcone dismissed, matching my tone. “Making things seem worse than they are. I have ears monitoring these things, and there’s nothing to worry about. And even if there was, he will serve as an example.” He must have caught my displeasure on my face because he continued. “You asked. I intend to keep my business as separate from you as possible, but I’m not going to lie or hide things from you, either.”

My eyes went wide in surprise. I… hadn’t expected that. “Thank you,” I said because I didn’t know what else to say to that. Sure, Marcone had never made a habit of lying to me, but hiding things sort of came with his territory. It was nice to know he wouldn’t withhold anything if I asked him about it. And that I could easily turn a blind eye to his practices if I didn’t.

The corner of his mouth tilted up in response to my reaction. “It’s late enough that we could get by with leaving, if you want.”

“Oh, thank god,” I sighed in relief.

*

When we got home, we found Maggie and Thomas on the living room floor. The game of Battleship was set up on the coffee table between them, and Mouse was sat beside Thomas, enjoying some ear scratches as my brother divided his attention between him and the game.

“B…” Maggie was saying thoughtfully as Marcone and I entered the room. She was interrupted by Mouse sneezing twice in a row. “B2,” she continued confidently.

Thomas sighed as he withdrew his hand from Mouse to stick a red peg into his remaining ship. “You win.” He turned narrowed eyes on the furball beside him. “Cheater.”

Mouse gave an offended, and not at all convincing, huff and trotted over to greet me. “Good boy,” I praised, hardly having to bend down to pet his head.

“Hey!” Thomas protested, and Maggie giggled, jumping up to stand on the couch, leaning on the back of it. “I beat Uncle Thomas twice!” she informed us excitedly.

“Great job, punkin,” I said as I stepped up to scoop her up over the back of the couch. 

“I demand a rematch,” Thomas declared dramatically as he clambored to his feet with noticeably less grace than I was used to seeing from him. “Without Mouse in the room,” he added, stretching his legs.

I shook my head sadly. “Your whole reputation gone down the drain over a game of Battleship. I don’t know how you’ll ever recover from this defeat.”

He checked to make sure Maggie wasn’t looking in his direction and then swiftly flipped me off. “How was your night?” he changed the subject.

“The food was good,” I gave the only compliment that I could.

Thomas turned to Marcone, an eyebrow raised in question. “So, how badly did he embarrass himself among Chicago’s elite?”

I narrowed my eyes at my brother, but Marcone answered before I could say anything. “He only stuck his foot in his mouth a handful of times, and nothing caught fire, so I think it was overall a success.”

I glared at the both of them, but decided to set a good example for my daughter and take the high road. “Okay, enough gossiping,” I sighed as I set Maggie back down on the ground. “It’s late. Time to get into your jammies and brush your teeth.”

“Okay!” she said, still clearly bubbling with excitement from her victories as she bounded over to the stairs.

“Thanks for watching her,” I said, turning back to my brother.

“Course,” he said with a casual shrug. “I tried to teach Bonnie to play, but I don’t think she understands the concept of guessing. She just kept rambling about probabilities and saying she couldn’t know for sure where the ships were. She’s resting now.”

I nodded with a small smile. I supposed guessing would be a strange concept when you had so much innate knowledge. “We’ll add that to the list of things to work on.”

“Presenting it through the lens of analytics might be a good approach,” Marcone suggested.

I arched an eyebrow at him. “You wanna help with that, then?” Analytics wasn’t exactly my forte, but Marcone practically lived his life through analyzing risk versus reward. Hell, that was probably how he approached guessing, anyway. If that was the approach, he would do a far better job than I would explaining the concept to Bonea.

Marcone remained composed in front of Thomas, but I could see the surprise in his eyes. “I can,” he said carefully.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

We both started to make our way to the stairs, but Thomas stopped me. “Hey.” His eyes darted to the stairs that Marcone had just disappeared down then back to me. “Uh, not trying to tell you what to do, but… you sure you want a guy with a Denarian in his head influencing her?”

“Namshiel isn’t allowed near her,” I said confidently. “John knows that. He’ll respect it. And he can stay out of the lessons on morals. I just think I could use his expertise with this.”

Thomas let out a small laugh as he shook his head. “I’m still just… getting used to how much things changed while I was out.”

“I’m sorry,” I said guiltily. Maybe if I’d visited the island sooner, if I hadn’t let my own selfish guilt drive me away, I could have gotten him out of there months ago. If I’d known it would be so easy… but I hadn’t even thought to check.

“Don’t worry about it,” he immediately dismissed my apology with a wave of his hand. “I think with my new profession I’m supposed to have the outlook that everything worked out the way it was supposed to, or something like that,” he added with a sardonic grin.

I laughed. “Yeah, how’s that going, Mr. Knight of the Cross?”

“Weird,” he admitted. “I mean, good, but weird. Sanya says I fight like someone who doesn’t think he can get hurt.”

“Well, up until recently, it was a lot harder to hurt you.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “And now I have Butters beating me while sparring cause I leave myself open too much.” He shook his head. “I’m working on it.”

“You’ll get there,” I assured, clapping him on the shoulder reassuringly. “You wouldn’t have been given the sword if you couldn’t master it.”

“Yeah, I know-” he broke off in a yawn. “Okay, I’m off the clock as uncle, no knightly duties, I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

As Thomas headed for the other end of the hall, I went downstairs to make sure Maggie was all ready for bed. I found her stalled in the hallway, toothbrush in hand, as she recounted her night to Marcone.

“This doesn’t look like brushing your teeth,” I pointed out, any sternness in my voice ruined by my smile.

Maggie quickly ducked back into the bathroom and reemerged a minute later, sans toothbrush. She smiled at me to show her clean teeth.

“That’s better. Ready for bed?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, then turned back to Marcone, who’d been watching me parent with a faint smile. “Do you want to read me my bedtime story?”

His eyebrows climbed in surprise. “Oh. Sure.” He glanced at me, and I gave him a reassuring smile.

Maggie grabbed him by the hand and dragged him into her room, while I followed behind them. I stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame and watching as Marcone sat on the edge of my daughter’s bed and read to her. He didn’t do as good of a job as I did, I thought, but with some practice, he’d be alright. I was again surprised by just how much I enjoyed seeing him caring for her. By how right it seemed.

When he was done, he set the book on her nightstand and adjusted the covers over her before walking back towards me.

“Mr. Marcone,” Maggie said hesitantly, and he paused, looking back at her. “Since you’re marrying my dad, I was wondering… can I call you Dad, too?”

Marcone went uncannily still, and I looked at him worriedly in his silence. Please just say yes. Don’t hurt her.  

“If… if that’s what you want,” he finally said in an only slightly strained voice, and I sighed in relief.

Maggie nodded, her eyes sparkling. “Okay. Goodnight, Dads,” she said with a yawn as she snuggled under her covers. “Love you.”

“Love you too, punkin,” I said, but I was still watching Marcone as he turned back to me, his face pale. I shut the door behind us and turned to him, resting a hand on his arm. “You okay?”

He shook his head without looking at me. “I shouldn’t be in her life,” he said quietly, suddenly reminding me that I wasn’t the only one who had labeled Marcone as a monster. He had, too.

“That’s up to her,” I said calmly, matching his volume. “And she wants you there.”

He looked at me incredulously. “How can you say that?”

“Because I thought the same thing,” I answered honestly, raw emotion in my voice. “I thought she was better off without me, but turned out, all she wanted was for me to be in her life. And maybe that does mean that she’s in more danger, but I have to think about her happiness first. What she needs is a family. And she’s decided that includes you.”

“That’s different,” he argued. “You’re a good person. I’m not.”

I shrugged. “Sometimes, I’m not so sure I’m that good…. And sometimes I’m not so sure you’re that bad.” I took a deep breath as I watched multiple emotions flicker briefly across Marcone’s face before he shut them all down. “We both walk on some shaky ground, but at the end of the day, we both want what’s best for her. And I know you’ll do everything in your power to protect her and Bonnie both.”

He nodded, a fierce protectiveness in his gaze that I appreciated. “I will.”

I gave his arm a light squeeze before dropping my hand. “Thank you,” I said fervently.

He let out a faint laugh as though he couldn’t quite believe that I was thanking him for protecting my daughters. “And thank you for letting me into your family.” His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Even if it wasn’t your choice.”

I shook my head as I leaned against the wall beside my room. “Might not’ve been, but… I’ve warmed up to it.”

He arched an eyebrow at me. “For Maggie’s sake?”

“Yeah,” I muttered, looking away from him self-consciously. “But also… I guess I’m starting to enjoy having you around.”

He was silent for a long moment. “Harry…”

I cleared my throat and swiftly pivoted to my bedroom door. “It’s late. G’night, John.”

He sighed, maybe a little sadly, or maybe I was just imagining that. “Goodnight, Harry.”

I ducked into my room and shut the door between us before falling back against it. I let out a long breath. That was too close. If I wasn’t careful, the walls that I’d built precariously between us would come crumbling down before we even said ‘I do’. And I wasn’t sure I could face him if that happened.

Chapter Text

I started avoiding Marcone. It was just too complicated to see him and think about him right now. He must have realized, but he didn’t broach the subject. Or maybe he was avoiding me, too.

When the anniversary of the Battle of Chicago rolled around, I threw myself into my work. Anything to distract myself from the painful memories. I ordered takeout for dinner, and took some up to Marcone in his office to make sure he ate something. But it was also an excuse to check on him, while still keeping some level of distance.

It looked like he was doing the same thing I was, distracting himself with his work. And it would be extremely hypocritical of me to say anything about it. He thanked me for the food, I paused just long enough to make sure he took the food out of the bag, and then I returned to avoiding him.

The next week passed in a blur and then I found myself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as sleep eluded me. I was getting married tomorrow. To John Marcone.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to be feeling at that. I liked him. More than I wanted to admit. But this wedding still wasn’t my choice. And the marriage wouldn’t be real. Not really. Not in the way that mattered.

It could be, of course. The feelings were there for both of us. But I was sure marrying me was complicated enough for him without bringing those feelings to the surface. And he was probably right about that. A relationship between us would be too messy. We’d fight a lot. And the fights would hurt more if we admitted to caring about each other. It was just, all around, a bad idea. But, stars, did I want it.

It was my first time admitting it to myself, but I did want it. I wanted more of those moments where his mask fell away and a genuine smile came through. I wanted to challenge his cynicism and remind him of what he was fighting for. I wanted to take care of him, and for him to take care of me. And for us both to take care of our city together. I wanted everything he would give me. And to give him all of me back.

I got to my feet with a groan. This wasn’t helping anything. I needed some fresh air.

I made my way to the roof of the castle. I enjoyed going up there to think on occasion. Mostly because of the view of the city. It wasn’t the Chicago skyline or anything fancy like that, it was better. It was neighborhoods made up of the people I fought to protect. It was home.

I stepped out onto the roof and froze when I saw the silhouette against the parapet. I almost ducked back inside like a coward, but he’d already heard the door open and turned to face me.

“Couldn’t sleep, either?” Marcone asked.

“No,” I sighed. Fuck it, I decided, and walked over to rest my elbows on the parapet beside him. This time tomorrow, we’d be married. Stars and stones, this was really happening. I fell back on my normal coping mechanism. “So, what’s keeping you up?” I asked with a grin.

He shook his head. “I’m not going to humor that with a response.”

“You’re no fun,” I pouted.

He turned to lean his back against the parapet, looking up at the sky. “Gard is picking me up first thing in the morning,” he informed me. “I’m meeting with Mab to go over the final details of the alliance.”

“Right,” I muttered. Of course he was talking about logistics. This was all just a business arrangement, after all.

“Are you alright?”

I turned my head to see Marcone regarding me with a worried frown. “Yeah,” I said, honestly not sure whether it was a lie or the truth. And then because I needed to talk about some aspect of it, I asked, “Did you ever think you’d get married?”

He looked away, gaze returning to the sky. “Not in a very long time.” Several moments passed before he looked at me again. “And you?”

“Yeah, maybe. I mean, I guess I hoped that some day I’d get married and have a family. I was just never sure if it was in the cards for me.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out that way,” he said sincerely.

I raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of my mouth rising with it. “I don’t know. I am getting married. And I have Maggie and Bonnie. Seems like a family to me.”

There was a beat and then he turned to face me more fully, looking at me carefully. I felt uncomfortably scrutinized. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

The corners of his lips twitched, but he quickly sobered. “Do you believe you made the right choice? With me?”

I blinked, surprised by the question, but I didn’t have to think about my answer. “I know I did.”

He arched an eyebrow curiously. “I understand the desire to avoid exposing Maggie to the White Court, but Ms. Raith is not unreasonable, you might have been able to work something out. The two of you share a commonality with your love for your brother, and I have it from several eye-witness accounts that you have already been involved with her. To some, she would seem the logical choice.”

I shook my head. “No. You’re right about Thomas, but that’s all Lara and I have going for us. And we were never involved. It was just an illusion, so that we could…” I broke off before I full-out admitted that I had violated Marcone’s territory. Sure, it wouldn’t exactly make a difference at this point, but some things were best left unsaid.

“So that you could sneak down to my basement and rescue Mr. Raith?” Marcone filled in the rest of my sentence with mild amusement.

“Now, where would you get an idea like that, John?” I asked innocently, my eyes wide and not-at-all believable.

“I wonder,” he mused dryly.

I shot him a grin before growing serious again. “Really, Lara was a bad option, every way you cut it. I don’t know what to expect from her half the time, apart from assuming she’s gonna use me as a cat’s paw in some way, and she’s a freaking succubus. That’s just asking for trouble.”

“Because you would have a more difficult time rejecting her advances than mine?” he asked, part teasing and part… something else.

I cleared my throat, trying to discourage the blood from rushing to my cheeks. Because yeah, they were both on the list, but assuming Lara wasn’t actively pulling the ‘come hither’ on me, she wasn’t the one I’d rather sleep with these days. “Uh, more because of the whole… feeding off me thing,” I choked out.

“Of course.” He let out a sigh, and I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved. “Though speaking of physical intimacy, perhaps we should discuss tomorrow night.”

Oh, hell's bells, I did not want to have this conversation with him. “Uh…” I said eloquently.

“As this is your first time with a man, I want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he elaborated.

“I’d be more comfortable if we weren’t having this conversation,” I muttered, face beet red as I stared down to the street below.

“If you can’t even talk about it…”

“I’m more hands-on with this kind of thing.” Oh great, and now I was thinking about my hands on Marcone. I straightened up and chanced a glance at his face, and judging from his dark eyes, it looked like he was thinking the same thing.

“Well, if you insist,” he said with a smirk, angling his body in a way that looked like he was offering it up to me.

“Tomorrow!” I spluttered, stumbling back a step along the side of the parapet. “I’ll… figure it out… tomorrow.” I swallowed down a gulp. “I just need to clear my head tonight.”

He regarded me a moment longer, and then nodded. “As you wish. I’ll leave you be.” And with that, he turned and retreated inside.

It wasn’t until after the door shut behind him that I processed his words and my jaw dropped open. Because… that wasn’t the first time he’d said that.

“You haven’t even realized- No, some things you have to figure out for yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Use your eyes - or your ears - and figure it out!”

Oh. So, that’s what my id had meant.

*

I still hadn’t fully processed my revelation come breakfast the next morning. Marcone was already gone by the time I’d gotten up and around, so I couldn’t talk to him about it, even if I’d been in the proper headspace. So instead, I went through the motions of getting myself and Maggie ready; thanking Charity when she stopped by to pick her up. Mab had explicitly stated that I could bring my daughter to the wedding, but there were going to be far too many beings there that I didn’t want to expose her to. So, she’d be spending the day with Charity and the Carpenter kids, and while she was sad she’d be missing the ceremony, I could also tell she was relieved to not have to be in a room full of strangers.

Charity’s gaze lingered on me before she walked out the door, scrutinizing my face. “If I need to have words with him, let me know.”

That surprised a laugh out of me. I could all too well imagine Charity putting the fear of God into Marcone, and it was an amusing mental image. “That won’t be necessary. But thanks.”

She nodded, then pulled me into a hug. “Don’t let the reason you’re both doing this take away from what this day is,” she murmured so that only I could hear. 

I swallowed thickly, remembering what Michael had said of Charity’s observations of Marcone and me at Christmas. Why was I always the last person to realize these things? She looked at my eyebrows as she stepped back and I gave her a small nod, more to appease her than actually agree to anything. Because I still didn’t know if it was possible. Or if it was possible, if it was something I was willing to open myself up to.

I was still in a bit of a daze - my mind ruminating over Charity’s advice and what last night’s conversation with Marcone had revealed - as I wandered down to the kitchen to make myself some lunch. I gave a nod of greeting to Thomas, who was already eating at the table, but didn’t say anything as I got some food and then sat down across from him.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed before Thomas kicked me under the table. “Earth to Harry. You hanging in there?”

I looked numbly up from my sandwich to stare at my brother. “I think John’s in love with me.”

He snorted. “No shit, sherlock.”

“Wait, what?” That was not the response I’d been expecting. 

“I always thought he had a bit of a thing for you,” he said casually. “But lately… well, you two are already acting like an old, married couple. So yeah, I’m not surprised it’s love.”

“Okay, but he let me know. Or at least heavily hinted at it. Which means… what? He wants to pursue it?” One of the main things I’d been telling myself to keep my own feelings in check was that Marcone didn’t want to act on his feelings. If I was wrong about that….

Thomas was looking at me like I was an idiot. “Harry, you’re getting married to him today. I think you’re a little past that.”

“But it wasn’t supposed to be real!” And holy shit, had Marcone seriously agreed to a phony marriage to the guy he was in love with, knowing I didn’t feel the same? It suddenly struck me just how great of torture he had willingly signed himself up for.

“You both want it to be,” Thomas pointed out, giving me a look that dared me to argue. I didn’t.

“But me and John Marcone? That is a match made by someone with a seriously sick sense of humor.”

“Harry,” he said patiently. “Does he make you happy?”

“He makes me irritated,” I said stubbornly, crossing my arms and glaring at the wall. 

“You love him,” he pressed.

I looked down. Because yeah, I was starting to think I did.

“You have the chance for something real,” Thomas said, and I could hear his own pain and heartache in his voice. “Don’t waste that.”

Slowly, I nodded. And this time I actually meant it.

Chapter Text

I adjusted my bowtie nervously. Given that it was the third or fourth time I’d done so in the last several minutes, the action probably just messed it up.

Molly had decided on a mostly traditional look for us for the wedding day. Black pants, white shirt, black bow tie, and a black jacket with hints of silver and pearl shimmering through it to set it apart. I had those purple cufflinks again and an intricate snowflake as my boutonniere, reminding me of the pin my subconscious wore. Upon closer inspection, I realized that at the center of the snowflake was the Municipal Device of Chicago - a Y symbol representing the Chicago river and its branches. I smiled a bit at that.

Michael brought his hand down on my shoulder. “It’s almost time.”

I nodded, and it felt like I had a weight on my head, making it difficult to move. “Were you this nervous?” I managed to ask. “With Charity?”

He hesitated. “I was nervous,” he admitted. “But all I had to do was focus on my love for her, and that gave me peace.”

My laugh had a slight note of hysteria to it. “Yeah, my situation is a little more complicated than that.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. “Still, focusing on your feelings for Marcone might help.”

I grunted. He might be right, but currently thinking about my feelings for Marcone made me wonder just what things would look like after today. I’d have to have a serious conversation with him, which I historically hated. The fact that the conversation would be about my feelings did not make it anymore appealing.

The door opened and the Leanansidhe entered, looking jaw-droppingly gorgeous in a midnight blue dress. “It is time, godson.”

I took a deep breath and allowed my godmother to lead me down the hall to the ballroom. Michael entered first, giving me a reassuring smile before he stepped through the door. I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself, and I felt Lea fix the bowtie that I had messed up. I looked over at her.

“You’re walking me down the aisle, aren’t you?” I realized.

“Of course,” she said, as though it should be obvious. “You are being given to the Baron by Winter to seal this alliance. As your godmother, and the Queen’s handmaiden, I am the logical choice to give you away.”

Okay, yeah, that was kind of obvious, now that I thought about it. But I didn’t like the implication of being given to Marcone like a piece of property. It just served to remind me of what this wedding really was. I didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because Lea was leading me into the ballroom, to the top of the aisle.

The room itself was fairly simple. The main draw was the view. 67 floors up Willis Tower and windows all along the three exterior walls meant that nearly all of Chicago was on display. Our city. 

And there was Marcone, standing at the altar wearing a suit identical to mine. There was an arch behind him adorned with silver branches that had the appearance of being covered in frost - given the Queen of Air and Darkness standing beneath it, they might well be. Sigrun Gard stood to Marchone’s side in a simple, silver gown, and Michael waited opposite her in his grey tux. The aisle itself was lined with what first looked like little lights, but upon closer inspection proved to be Little Folk - specifically, the Za-Lord’s Guard, standing at attention. I managed a small smile at that.

As Lea walked me down the aisle, I took note of the way Marcone was watching my approach. His back was straight, bordering on rigid, and his expression wouldn’t look out of place in a tense business meeting. As usual, he gave nothing away behind his mask. And today it pissed me off.

We were getting married, dammit. He apparently loved me. And there he was, playing the part of an emotionless statue. I wanted to start a fight with him, just to see something real.

We reached the altar, and my godmother handed me off to my robotic groom. I regarded him with narrowed eyes, and whispered, just loud enough to be heard by him. “Hey, scumbag.”

I saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes, and I smiled, satisfied.

I mostly listened as Mab addressed the guests, thanking them for coming to witness our union and the forging of this alliance.

“Today, Knight Harry Dresden and Baron John Marcone will commit their lives to each other, and in doing so will bind the interests of Winter and Chicago.” She shifted her attention to address us. “The vows you make today signify that your souls are bound eternally. You make these vows today with the understanding that you are committing to be a partner to one another, and to honor the connection your souls now share with one another. Once made, these vows are not to be broken. Do you both understand and accept this commitment?”

“We do,” Marcone and I responded as one, and I appreciated the irony that Mab was asking me if I accepted it while giving me no option to say no.

“Then join hands.” We clasped each other’s left hands and at a light touch from Mab, three cords of white light encircled them. “Knight Dresden, do you vow to do no harm to Baron Marcone, to protect his interests, and share in his pain?”

I met Marcone’s eyes and suddenly understood what Michael had been talking about earlier. “I do,” I said clearly, injecting as much of myself into the words as I could, taking Charity’s advice to focus on the what rather than the why.  

“Do you vow to give yourself to him, to work as one in times of fortune and hardship, and to use your anger to strengthen and temper the bond between you?”

I quirked a small smile at that, which was answered in Marcone’s eyes. “I do.”

“And do you vow to honor and respect him, to value his worth, and to treat him as an equal in this bond?”

“I do,” I repeated for the third time, and felt something click into place. The cords of light flared brighter.

Mab turned to Marcone and he made the same three vows. The light flared again and began to writhe, snaking in different directions. One cord twisted and slithered to wrap around my ring finger with a burn that I felt even through the mantle. One did the same to Marcone. The third lifted up, and Mab extended her hand so that the light flowed back into her. The light faded and Marcone and I were left with silver rings adorned with a thin row of purple and green gems through the center.

“Knight Dresden and Baron Marcone, having proclaimed the bond of your souls together in the sight of these witnesses, through the power of Winter, I now pronounce you married. You may kiss and go forth to seal your bond.”

I tightened my grip on Marcone’s hand and stepped forward, holding eye-contact as I raised my right hand to cup the back of his head. The moment our lips pressed together, I became acutely aware of the magic thrumming through me, urging me to complete what had been started. To seal the bond. It twisted with my own desire, making it damn near impossible to ignore. I forced myself to pull back, and judging from the look in Marcone’s eyes, he was feeling it, too. I was distinctly glad the reception wouldn’t be taking place until tomorrow.

I was hyper-aware of Marcone at my side, of his hand in mine as we walked back up the aisle. The need to touch him was like an incessant ich begging to be scratched, and the warmth of his hand only made it worse. I had the good sense to drop his hand as we stepped into the elevator and I immediately pressed myself into the back corner. Marcone made to stand next to me, then seemed to think better of it, and moved instead to stand in the opposite corner. The distance was borderline painful, but if I let myself touch him right now, there was no way I would have the presence of mind to keep my magic in check. And an elevator wasn’t exactly where I wanted to consummate our marriage.

There was a town car waiting for us out front to take us to our hotel. Marcone’s shoulder brushed mine as he slid in beside me and my gaze snapped to him as though he’d called my name. He was staring at me. More specifically, at my lips.

“How far to the hotel?” I asked of no one in particular, my voice sounding gruff to my own ears.

“Eight minutes, sir,” the driver replied promptly as the car began to roll forward.

I bit my lip against a frustrated groan. Look, the binding was really insistent, okay? And I had a feeling that it was only amplified by my own suppressed desires. It was like adding mentos to a bottle of coke. I needed a release… metaphorically, and also literally.

Marcone closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose, turning to face forward. “Eight minutes,” he murmured, clearly more to himself. I could practically read his thoughts. Eight minutes until he could have his hands on me. Until he could kiss me. Push me down into bed.

I rocked my head back against the headrest forcefully and tried to think libido-killing thoughts. It was going okay until Marcone apparently got frustrated with my leg bouncing and slammed his hand down on my thigh. My legs fell open a little wider on pure instinct.

“I wasn’t aware this part would be so… intense,” he said tightly a moment later, tightening his grip on my thigh.

I grunted in agreement. “We’ve essentially paused in the middle of a ritual. All the energies are there with nowhere to go. And that’s on top of what we both already felt, amplifying it.” It helped to talk shop with him, gave me something to focus on.

Marcone hummed thoughtfully, and his hand slid upward just a touch before he stopped himself. “Both?”

I rolled my eyes. “Like you haven’t noticed. I haven’t done a great job of hiding it.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I couldn’t be entirely sure that it wasn’t a combination of you trying to push yourself to be interested and wishful thinking, on my part.”

I scoffed. “I can’t just will myself to be that interested in someone, John.”

“Hmm, and how interested would that be, Harry?” His voice had taken on a low, sultry quality, and dammit, that was not helping anything.

I brought my hand to rest on top of his, curling around it and prying it off my thigh. “When we get to the hotel, I’ll show you.”

His eyes flared with heat, but he resigned himself to holding my hand until we reached the hotel.

Marcone had apparently already checked in, so we took the elevator straight up to our room on the top floor. I took vague notice that this was probably one of the nicest hotels in Chicago, but I rather doubted Marcone ever stayed in anything less. I guess this was just one of the perks of being married to Chicago’s kingpin.

We didn’t make it out of the entryway to our room before I was kissing him, tearing at the buttons of his jacket. Finally. He let me back him up against the door and returned the kiss enthusiastically for a minute before catching my hands.

“We do need to wear this tomorrow, as well,” he reminded me, his lips brushing mine as he spoke. “We should take care to hang them up.”

I glared at him. How could he think about things like that right now? That kind of self-control was just unfair.

He chuckled, giving me a last, teasing brush of his lips before gently pushing me away.

“Fine,” I growled. I spun on my heel and stalked further into our room. There was a large table and bar on one side of the room, and on the other was an entire freaking pool table and a huge sectional couch. I blinked and turned back to Marcone. “Isn’t there supposed to be a bed in here?”

His raised eyebrow gave the distinct impression that he was making fun of me. “It’s down the hall.”

I stepped around the wall separating the entry from what was apparently the living room, and there was indeed a hallway leading to what must be the bedroom. “This isn’t a hotel room, it’s an apartment,” I muttered as I followed the hall. And one larger and far nicer than my old apartment had been.

Marcone stopped partway down the hall to open a closet, slipping his jacket off and hanging it inside. Then he started on the buttons of his shirt. I followed suit. 

I may have gotten a bit distracted watching him while we both undressed, and I had to physically restrain myself from reaching out and touching his newly exposed skin, but it wasn’t long until we were both in just our underwear. And then his hands were on me, running over my bare skin while he kissed me and pushed me back into the bedroom proper.

“You don’t know,” he gasped between kisses, his mouth slipping down to my jaw. “How long I have wanted this.” 

He pushed me back onto the bed and I scrambled up to the pillows, giving him a cheeky grin. “Well, come and get me, John.”

He did. And then we both set to exploring every inch of each other we could reach. It wasn’t long before we were completely naked, our legs twisted together as we writhed against each other.

His mouth slid along my jawline until it was at my ear. “What do you want, Harry?” His voice was desperate, breathless, and it was a thrill to have brought John Marcone to this state.

“Uh-” I gasped, not really sure how to answer that. Mostly because my brain didn’t want to think enough to form a response. “What do you want?” I asked instead.

He teased my earlobe between his teeth and breathed out a breathy laugh that somehow still managed to sound dangerous. “Oh, I want whatever you’ll give me.”

Oh. His words went straight to my cock, and I let out a little moan. I could ask for anything right now, and he’d be inclined to give it. That knowledge did something to me. The question was, what did I ask for? 

The answer immediately sprang to mind, and it was a little bit frightening. It was something I hadn’t explored before, but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been curious. And as my godmother had reminded me, I was being given to Marcone. It would be the proper way to seal the alliance. And surprisingly, it was what I wanted in that moment.

“Fuck me.”

Marcone pulled back slightly to see my face. As soon as he saw I was sure, he let out an honest to god growl and reached for the lube he must have set out on the nightstand earlier.

It was different, and certainly took some adjusting while he was hastily working me open, but I quickly decided that I was a fan. Who knew this would be something I’d like?

I came shouting his name, and he followed shortly after, clinging to me tightly. I felt the bond snapping closed around us as he shuddered against me, and I held him a little tighter. And just like that, we were bound together. Forever. And I didn’t have a single complaint about that.

Chapter Text

“Wow,” I muttered, laying in bed next to Marcone as our breathing returned to normal. Why had I gone so much of my life not knowing this was something I liked? Something I wanted?

Marcone turned his head to the side to look at me with a wolfish smile. “I agree.”

He rolled out of bed and I watched him, my eyes greedily tracing the lines of his body. I’d left some marks on his shoulders, and I really liked seeing that. Because he’d let me mark him. John Marcone was mine. It was intoxicating.

Marcone ducked down, and I realized he was plugging in the phone on the bedside table. I grinned at him. “So what, you think you’re so good in bed that I’d fry everything in the area?” Admittedly, it was possible, but I sure as hell wasn’t telling him that.

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t know what to expect, but history has taught me to always be prepared for destruction when you’re involved. You have an incessant tendency to blow stuff up..”

“Hey, come on, I don’t always blow stuff up,” I protested.

“My property insurance would disagree,” he said dryly before reaching for the phone.

I frowned, propping myself up on my elbow. “Who’re you calling right now?” If he was making a business call right after sex…

“Room service,” he interrupted my thoughts. “Given your appetite, I assumed you were hungry.”

I’d had other things on my mind, but now that he mentioned it, I realized he was right. It was past my usual dinnertime, and I’d, uh… worked up an appetite. I relaxed back onto the bed as he called down to room service, appreciating that he’d thought to do so. I still had that post-orgasm tranquility, and I was more than happy to just bask in the bliss of it while Marcone took care of ordering food.

Once he was done, he disappeared into what must be the bathroom for a few minutes, and then emerged wearing a bathrobe and carrying a cloth. He walked over to me and started cleaning me up.

“You really are a gentleman,” I teased, relaxing into his touch.

His eyes crinkled in amusement, but he didn’t comment, focusing on the task at hand. I let him, enjoying his attention and letting my eyes fall shut. I might have drifted for a bit because when I opened my eyes, the stickiness was gone.

“Guess you really do like taking care of me, huh?” I broke the silence.

Marcone’s eyes drifted up to my face and he smiled. “It does have a certain appeal. Mostly because you’re letting me.”

I gave a slight shrug. “I’m enjoying it.”

Something akin to pride burned in his eyes at that, but then he stepped away, going to drop the rag into a laundry hamper near the bathroom.

“How are you feeling?” he asked with his back still towards me.

“Great,” I answered honestly.

Marcone turned back around, looking at me carefully for a moment before he moved back over to my side. “Good. I’d meant to take things slower, but…”

“Yeah, slow wasn’t really an option,” I agreed. I’d also intended to talk to him before we went to bed together, but clearly it hadn’t worked out that way. “I’m good, though. Honest.”

He nodded, leaning back against the wall that was just a couple feet from the side of the bed. “You may be sore tomorrow,” he warned.

Yeah, the Winter Mantle didn’t do a whole lot for soreness, but… I didn’t hate the idea of having the reminder tomorrow. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He smirked. “That’s not what you told me.”

“Oh, shut up. That’s not what I meant.” I shook my head and then fixed him with a pointed look. “You like that you’re the only one I’ve done that with, don’t you?” I accused.

“I do,” he admitted shamelessly.

I made a thoughtful sound. “And just how long have you wanted that?” I asked curiously.

He met my eyes. “I’ve wanted you since the very first time you mouthed off to me. Though I was, at that point, thinking more along the lines of finding a better use for your mouth. Obviously, things evolved over time.”

My eyes widened slightly. “That’s a long time, John.”

“It is,” he acknowledged.

“How come you never tried anything?”

His mouth twisted into an amused smile. “Because I didn’t want to be set on fire.”

“Oh.” Yeah, he made a good point there. I put on my best game show host voice. “Well, John Marcone, you just bedded Chicago’s wizard, what are you going to do next?”

He narrowed his eyes as he straightened, clearly turning up his intimidation factor as he looked down at me. “Possibly strangle him.”

I shrugged casually. “Hey, if you’re into it, I’m willing to try,” I said sincerely.

Marcone froze, his surprise completely evident on his face. Which just wasn’t something that happened with John Marcone. I knew him well enough that I could catch the surprise in his eyes, I knew his tell when he blinked. But he never showed his shock so openly. He just didn’t. Except for right now, apparently.

“What?” I asked innocently. “I’ll admit, I’m pretty vanilla, but I’m willing to experiment.” It was much easier right now to act like it wasn’t anything weird or crazy that I was talking about future sex with John Marcone. Like it was just a given that it would happen. Because if I acted like it was weird, I’d start overthinking it, and then I would start panicking. And frankly, I just wanted to enjoy this.

“I’m trying to decide if you’re joking or not,” he murmured, visibly composing himself.

“I’m one-hundred percent serious, John. Unless, of course, you didn’t want to do this again,” I added with a grin.

A second later, he was kissing me, his hand gripping my shoulder, and he brought his knee up to kneel on the edge of the bed, giving himself more leverage. I returned the kiss gladly, left hand twisting in his hair, while my right reached for his side. We stayed like that until there was a knock at the door, and Marcone reluctantly pulled away.

“That will be room service,” he said, his voice perhaps a touch rougher than usual. “I’ll go get it. There’s another robe in the bathroom, if you like. Though…” His eyes roamed over my naked body. “I wouldn’t be opposed if you chose not to wear it.” He left the room with a faint smirk in my direction.

I decided that Marcone didn’t need the ego boost of me actually listening to him, and I also wasn’t about to give him the advantage of wearing a robe while I was in nothing, so I retrieved the second robe from the bathroom before joining him in the main room. He had already put the plates from room service on the table, and was in the process of pouring himself a glass of whiskey at the bar.

“Would you like one?” he asked over his shoulder as I took a seat at the table.

“Sure.” I began uncovering plates, and a minute later, Marcone placed a glass down in front of me and took the seat across from me.

“To be sure,” he said as we began to dig into our food. “There aren’t any aftereffects to what we just experienced that would alter your perceptions or inhibitions?”

I snorted. “Nope. Didn’t realize your self-esteem was so low you thought I’d need a magical roofie to sleep with you.”

“That is not the issue,” he said coolly. “I don’t doubt that you can be attracted to me. What I doubt is your willingness to act on it.”

Which was totally fair considering the stance I’d taken over the last several months. “Well… I kinda surprised myself with that, too,” I said honestly. “But that was before tonight, so it’s definitely not an aftereffect.”

He looked at me thoughtfully. “You should have said.”

“You told me you try to avoid people you’re attracted to,” I pointed out, maybe just a bit grumpily because how the hell had I been supposed to know that I was an exception to his rule? “I didn’t want to throw a wrench into that.”

Marcone’s laughter was full and genuine. “That, of all things, is what you decide not to throw a wrench into.” He shook his head, but his amused smile was still in place. “If you hadn’t noticed, agreeing to marry you isn’t exactly avoidance.” 

“So what, you just decided to make an exception for me?” 

“I’ve been making exceptions for you since we met,” he said matter-of-factly. “What’s one more when frankly, the damage had already been done?”

“Oh? And what other exceptions have you made for me?” I pressed with a smile.

“You’re still breathing,” he answered bluntly.

I blinked. I probably should have expected that. “Wow, John, you say the sweetest things,” I gushed sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re bad for business, Harry. I should have taken you out ages ago.” He said it as though he was remarking on an investment decision, rather than talking about having me killed. But to him, that was probably about the same.

“And instead, you got married to me,” I said brightly.

“Yes. As I said, feelings complicate things. As does your mere existence.”

There was nothing quite like your new husband telling you that your existence complicated things. It makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Sorry I’m so irresistible.”

“I’ve managed,” he said dryly.

We finished our dinner, then Marcone returned to the bar to top off his drink. And that was when I finally got up the nerve to ask what I wanted to.

“Hey, there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” I said casually, following him over to the bar.

“Oh?” He arched an eyebrow at me curiously as he poured his drink.

“You said, a while back, that you appreciated my Princess Bride reference,” I started, hoping my voice didn’t betray my nerves.

He turned to me, eyes amused over the rim of his glass. “I believe I said I appreciated the movie, not your reference.”

“Okay, but you like the movie?” I asked with mild exasperation.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a favorite, but I do enjoy it,” he confirmed, watching me as he took a sip of his drink.

“And, uh…” I scratched the back of my neck, feeling a bit ridiculous, despite my gut feeling that I was right on this. “You’ve said ‘as you wish’ to me. A lot.”

He took another drink as he watched me squirm, laughter in his eyes. “I have.”

Between the mirth in his eyes and his tone of voice, it sounded an awful lot like Oh, you’ve finally picked up on it? And you see, that sounded like a challenge. And I could handle a challenge.

I shoved my nerves away as I narrowed my eyes and stepped right in front of Marcone, my hands shooting out to rest on the bar on either side of him, pinning him in. “Something you want to tell me, John?” I asked in a low voice.

Marcone didn’t back down from a challenge, either. He met my gaze steadily as he reached behind him to set his glass down. “I don’t know. But this line of questioning makes me think there’s something you might want to tell me, Mr. Dresden.” 

“Harry,” I corrected with a wry smile.

He responded with a smirk. “Earn it,” he purred.

Now, I knew what he meant by that. Earn the drop of formality by standing down and admitting my feelings. And it wasn’t that I was opposed to the idea. It’d been my intention when I’d started this conversation. But it would be a cold day in hell when I let John Marcone goad me into doing something. So instead, I deliberately misinterpreted his words.

“Well, if you insist.” I dropped to my knees in front of him, pushing his robe out of the way so that I could take him in hand. His cock had already started to take an interest, so before I could chicken out, I leaned in and took him into my mouth.

“Harry,” he gasped, his hand instinctively grabbing for my head.

I smirked broadly as I pulled off and rose to my feet. “Well, that was easy,” I said victoriously.

He glared at me, and the hand that had been reaching for my head dropped to my hip, gripping tightly and pulling me forward. “You are a fucking tease,” he growled.

I shrugged, licking my lips. “Earn it,” I threw back at him.

He spun us around, and then John Marcone did not hesitate before going down on his knees for me. And that did things to me, let me tell you. And that was without even taking into account how unfairly skilled the guy was with his mouth. And his hands. Just… he knew what he was doing, okay? I felt clumsy and uncoordinated when I returned the favor, but judging from his reactions, he didn’t seem to mind. Maybe I wasn’t as bad at it as I thought, or maybe it was just because it was me. Either way, it was a good ego boost.

We had relocated to the couch along the way, and I now crawled up his body to lay on top of him. The couch was so large that I only had to bend my knees a little bit, and I found myself actually comfortable. Maybe I should let Marcone buy us a nice, big couch like this. But I would have to go with him to make sure it was actually comfortable. 

I grinned up at him. “Told you you’d have to return the favor of being a human pillow.”

“You did,” he chuckled, bringing one arm around me while his other hand moved to brush my hair back from my face. Both the gesture and his gaze were surprisingly tender.

I stretched up to kiss him, softly, languidly, enjoying the moment. He sighed against my lips, and his hands brushed over me, his touch gentle and comforting, lacking the insistence that had been there earlier in the night. I placed light kisses down his neck as I returned to his chest, resting my head over his heartbeat as I curled around him.

“I still hate what you do,” I felt inclined to say a moment later.

“I had no doubt,” he assured me.

I didn’t say anything for a minute, my hand tracing over his skin made available to me beneath his open robe, trying to ignore how my stomach was twisting with dread. Because now that this was real, it was something I could lose. And that terrified me. 

“What if this blows up in our faces?” the words finally spilled out, barely more than a whisper. “We’ll still have to be married.” I didn’t know how I could possibly endure being married to Marcone if our relationship went sideways. It would hurt, and knowing us, we’d probably be trying to kill each other. And that wouldn’t be good for the alliance.

Marcone didn’t respond right away, choosing his words carefully. “Weren’t you just trying to convince me that you don’t blow everything up?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Then prove it, Harry.”

I lifted my head up off his chest to blink up at him. Had he just… turned our relationship into a challenge?  

He smiled like a shark tasting blood in the water. “Unless you want to give up now?”

Like hell. I narrowed my eyes as I propelled myself up to catch his lips in another kiss. Challenge accepted.

Chapter Text

I woke up feeling warm and comfortable in Marcone’s arms, and I absolutely did not want to get out of bed. So, instead I snuggled a little closer, burying my face in his shoulder. I felt his body shake with silent laughter in response.

“Good morning, Harry,” he murmured, smoothing a hand down the back of my head.

“Mornin’,” I replied through a yawn.

Marcone started to stir, and I immediately wound my arms and legs tightly around him, holding him in place with a sound of protest. He chuckled, but gently pushed against me. “We have our wedding reception to get ready for,” he reminded me.

“I don’t want to go,” I muttered pettily. “It’s just politics and small talk.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll do the talking. All you have to do is look pretty.”

I glared up at him. “I’m not your arm candy, scumbag.” I’m not sure how, it definitely wasn’t intentional, but the word ‘scumbag’ sounded a lot more like a term of endearment than it used to.

“No, you’re my husband,” he agreed patiently. “And if I show up to our wedding reception alone, I’m afraid most people will assume that I killed you. Not to mention, Mab will certainly not be pleased if you refuse to show.”

“Excuses, excuses,” I griped, even as I sat up. “You just want to show me off.”

“Mmm. That too,” he admitted, a possessive glint in his eyes as he leaned in for a kiss.

I tried to escalate things, but Marcone put a stop to it, insisting that we needed to start getting ready. I cursed Molly for planning a brunch reception.

Getting ready alongside Marcone was… interesting. I paused in front of the bathroom mirror, noting the bite marks that he’d left over my neck and chest. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had left a hickey on me, but clearly Marcone had wanted to stake his claim.

He came up behind me, reaching up to brush his fingers against one of the marks with a satisfied smirk. “You wear it well.”

I fixed him with a hard look. “You’re going to be freakishly possessive, aren’t you?” I realized.

He flashed his predator’s smile. “Define ‘freakishly’.” 

I rolled my eyes and continued on to the shower, glancing back at him when I reached it. “Want to join me?”

“Can you behave yourself?” he asked as though he doubted my ability to do so.

“I will, if you will,” I promised. 

And we did… mostly. It was a decent-sized shower, so we really didn’t have to brush up against each other as much as we both did. Our hands kept finding each other under the guise of maneuvering to get under the water, or graciously helping to wash a hard-to-reach area. We weren’t fooling each other, but we also didn’t take it any further. As much as we clearly both wanted to. Marcone was right, I didn’t want to face Mab’s wrath if we showed up late for our wedding reception.

Once we had both showered, groomed, and donned our tuxedos from the previous day, a car arrived to take us back to Willis Tower. The reception was to be in the same room the ceremony had been in, but naturally, Mab was waiting in the hall outside the ballroom for us when we arrived.

“Baron,” she greeted with an incline of her head. “I hope you found our Knight agreeable.”

I felt heat flooding my face. Was the Queen of Air and Darkness seriously asking Marcone if he enjoyed me in bed?

“I did,” he replied agreeably, inclining his head as well.

She gave me a satisfied look, and then turned to the door to the ballroom. “I shall announce your arrival.”

“Oh sure, don’t ask me if I found him agreeable,” I muttered as soon as she was gone.

Marcone regarded me with an amused quirk of his lips, but said nothing.

The first part of the reception was relatively painless. Mab announced us, said a few words about the alliance, and then we were able to eat. 

Marcone and I were sat alone at what I had been informed was a “sweetheart table” beneath the same archway we had gotten married under. Instead of the aisle, there was now a white dance floor in front of us, with that snowflake-Municipal Device hybrid in the center. All around the dance floor were other tables, very few of them hosting people that I actually liked. And even after the food was served, people kept looking at us.

For my own sanity, I focused on one of the closer tables where some of the people I’d personally invited sat. Thomas caught my eye and gave me a knowing grin and a wink. I fought the urge to flip him off. Maybe I should just focus on my plate.

As everyone finished eating, the atmosphere shifted subtly. More conversation broke out. Some people got up to dance.

“We should make the rounds,” Marcone said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to me. “Thank everyone for coming.”

“But I’m not grateful,” I pointed out, even as I took his hand and stood.

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not Fae, so you can lie and say you are.”

Before Marcone could make a beeline for whatever powerful ally he most wanted to impress, I pulled him over to the table to our left, where my friends were seated. I was starting off easy, and these were the people I was actually grateful to.

“Hey, thanks for coming, you guys,” I said sincerely.

“Of course, Harry,” Georgia said with a smile. “Congratulations?” The sentiment was somewhere between a statement and a question.

“Or condolences,” her husband, Will, continued quietly, his eyes flickering to Marcone.

“Mr. and Mrs. Borden,” Marcone greeted politely, his steel mask firmly in place. “Good to see you again.”

Will grunted while Georgia nodded politely, if warily.

I touched base with Andi, Marci, and Butters, and Sanya greeted Marcone as if he were a good friend, and asked if there was anything he’d like to get off his chest. Marcone, of course, declined.

“You seem to be doing well,” Michael noted as he stood to give me a hug.

“Yeah,” I nodded with a small smile. “I am.”

“I bet,” Thomas said with a suggestive smile, standing as well. He may no longer be a White Court vampire, but I guess some habits died hard. “How was last night?”

“Fine,” I attempted to shrug off.

“Uh-huh.” He reached for the collar of my shirt, pulling it down to reveal the hickey that it had apparently been only partially covering. 

“Hey!” I slapped his hand away.

There was a chuckle, and then Marcone’s hand was on the small of my back. “We’re glad you could both be here, gentlemen, but if you’ll excuse us, we need to thank the other guests.”

“Of course,” Michael said with a nod. “Oh, but let me know if you would like us to keep Maggie for another night. She was excited to go to the park with Charity today, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

I opened my mouth to say I’d think about it, but Marcone spoke before I could. “That would be appreciated, thank you.”

I rolled my eyes at him, but decided not to complain. Mostly because I rather liked the idea of spending another night one-on-one with Marcone. It wasn’t like we were getting a honeymoon, after all. And Maggie would understand, I knew.

I reluctantly allowed Marcone to drag me away from my friends’ table, and we started making our way through thanking the rest of our guests. True to his word, Marcone did most of the talking, with me just having to grit my teeth in a smile as he schmoozed the various supernatural powers. I still hated every minute of it. And then we came to the White Court’s table.

“I have to say, I’m impressed,” Lara commented, rising elegantly to her feet as we approached her. “I wasn’t sure you would both survive an evening together.”

“We managed just fine,” Marcone assured with his usual surface-level politeness, extending his hand.

I’d fallen into the role of being mercifully disconnected from all the conversations, and as a result, I didn’t think about the potential problem until just a second before Lara took his hand. “Uh, Lara-” I started, but I was too late. Lara hissed in pain as she jerked her hand back from Marcone’s, her flesh red and blistered.

I hoped I managed to stop my smile from showing on my face. Even knowing what Marcone and I felt for each other, it was nice to see the undeniable proof of it.

Marcone blinked, but he recovered quickly. And I realized that whatever he thought I might have felt for him, he hadn’t been convinced that I actually loved him too. Hey, at least I wasn’t the only one slow to accept these things. “My apologies, I didn’t think,” he said smoothly.

“Yeah, and I realized too late.” I injected a note of apology into my voice, hoping Lara wouldn’t make a scene about being attacked or something dramatic like that. For good measure, I added, “I’d have thought gloves would be standard wedding wear for you.” Putting the fault at least somewhat on her. I also slipped an arm around my husband’s waist because united front and all that.

“Yes, well, I didn’t think it would be necessary at this wedding,” Lara murmured, shaking her head slightly as she covered her blistered hand with the unmarred one.

“You know what they say about assuming,” I said helpfully. 

“Harry,” Marcone cut me off pointedly. “Again, I apologize Ms. Raith. It was not intentional.”

She nodded sharply. “You helped my brother, Marcone. We’re even.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgement - there would be no more allowances between the two of them - and we moved on to the next table. But as we did, I caught sight of my grandfather a couple tables away. He was watching us, and I could tell from the look on his face that he’d seen what had just happened. 

I gave him a half shrug as if to say ‘What can you do?’ It wasn’t like I had gone and chosen to fall in love with John Marcone. And he hadn’t chosen to fall in love with me, either. Sometimes feelings, like fire, roared up into an inferno before you had the chance to safely extinguish them. And then you had two choices: allow it to burn you, or dance in the flames. Thankfully, I’d always liked playing with fire.

Ebenezar let out a sigh and then gave me a faint, jerking nod of his head before he turned and headed for the door. I supposed he’d gotten what he was after in coming here - he knew that I was okay. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to avoid the awkward conversation he would have suffered if he’d stayed. I still had to talk to him, but it still wasn’t the time.

The rest of the reception passed without incident, and Marcone and I even got to enjoy dancing together like it was a real wedding reception instead of an elaborate political statement. I remembered the only other time we’d danced together, when I’d made the realization that I was attracted to him. This time, no thought experiment was necessary to know just how much I enjoyed the feel of his hand in mine, of his arm wrapped firmly around my waist. My hand slid over his shoulder comfortably, as though it belonged there. I couldn’t get enough of touching him.

“So, I guess we’ve got another night to ourselves,” I said softly while we moved to the music. “Thanks to you.”

There was a light in his eyes when they met mine that I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen there before. “If I thought Maggie would be put out by it, I wouldn’t have said anything. But I thought another night for just us would be good.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.”

His lips twitched into a small smile as he pulled me closer. “Good. When we pick her up tomorrow, we can do something special to celebrate with her.”

I smiled at that. A family outing. I liked the sound of that, and I knew that Maggie would, too. 

I lost the beat of the music (if I’d ever had it in the first place) as I reached up to cup Marcone’s cheek and pull him in for a kiss. I could feel eyes on us, but I didn’t care. So what, if people knew that this was real? It was all the more reason not to mess with either of us because the revenge would be personal. Us protecting each other wasn’t just because of some superficial alliance, and any threats we made in defense of the other, people would know that we meant them. I understood Marcone’s stance that feelings could be complicated, could be seen as a weakness to exploit. But in our case, I thought it just made us all the more dangerous. And given the nervous expressions in the room when I broke the kiss, I wasn’t alone in that.

“I love you,” I murmured, my face still close to his. 

He dropped my hand, instead moving it to caress my cheek softly. We weren’t really dancing anymore, just holding each other in the middle of the dance floor, but I hardly noticed. My now free hand dropped to his waist, while the other continued holding his face, a mirror of his stance. 

Marcone gently guided my head down to rest against his forehead, and I closed my eyes with a contented sigh. “And I love you, Harry Dresden,” he whispered. 

I smiled and went in for another kiss.