Chapter Text
My name is Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. I’m the Wizard of Chicago and, due to some desperately ill-advised decision making, the Winter Knight.
My boss had lost her goddamn mind.
Molly and Marcone left the castle, and I tried to pull together whatever protests wouldn’t get my skull bounced off the wall. If I took another beating parts of me might start falling off. But this was insane, and I’d had a long damned week.
And Murph was gone.
Grief possessed me, and minding my manners suddenly didn’t matter any more, because nothing mattered. I opened my mouth, phasers set to kill.
Mab raised her hand, forestalling me. Her voice was tired and uninflected. “Yes. You defy me. Obviously. You always do. In the interests of efficiency, let us assume you have uttered some mystifying reference to mortal popular nonsense, I have glared at you and reminded you of the power I hold over you, you have confirmed that you continue to understand the circumstances that require me to tolerate your insouciance, and we have both agreed to continue this ridiculous dance in the future, presumably for the remainder of time.”
I blinked. Meta-commentary on the nature of our relationship was new. It took me a moment to get my objections back in order.
“Marcone? Marriage? I’m not a Ken doll, you can’t just crash me into another action figure and shout now kiss.”
“I can do exactly that,” she said, unmoved. “Or will you deny what you surrendered to me at the table?”
I shut my mouth. Mab had me there. She’d had me in every way, staking her claim to my life in an unmistakable fashion. And I’d agreed to it, in an equally unmistakable fashion. My life was Mab’s to spend, and if marrying me off resulted in a more stable and secure Winter, she had both the right and the duty to do so.
But that just brought me back to why the entire idea was insane.
Mab turned away from me to gaze up through the hole in the roof. Raindrops turned to hail as they passed her and bounced across the stone floors of the castle.
I couldn’t deny Mab’s right, or her duty. But I could point out that her means were unlikely to reach her ends.
“Why him? Why not… Lara, or Evanna, or literally anyone else?” I asked.
Mab looked back to me, hail increasing the tempo at which it rattled across the floor.
“The Baron has garnered the lion’s share of respect among his elders by surviving a storm this violent at all, much less proving to have prepared for it, seizing the initiative, and fighting for his territory successfully. Yet you have claimed a choice prize of him, and he has the grace to yield it to you. He fought beside you. He sheltered the rabble you brought to his door. Tis meet. You are well suited.”
That was true from a really twisty point of view — one I didn’t agree with — but it reminded me there was something I wanted to say. I moved closer to Mab. She was a little shorter than me today, in the form she used to move amongst mortals unremarked.
“It did mean something to me,” I admitted. “Marcone didn’t have to let everyone in. It made tactical sense not to. But he did when I asked.”
When push came to shove, Marcone always gave me what I asked for. Sometimes for a price, sometimes because our goals aligned, maybe sometimes because he just couldn’t be bothered arguing with me.
Mab inclined her head.
“And he was ready for the fight. When the city needed him, he was here. I won’t forget that,” I continued. Then I paused to make sure I had her full attention. “But so were you. Thank you.”
Mab looked puzzled. People probably don’t thank her often. Not sincerely. “Thank you,” I repeated. “You fought for my city. My people.” I said it for the third time, intent and will in my words. Repeat something three times and you make it more real. “Thank you.”
Mab shivered at my gratitude. She closed her eyes. And for a moment, rain fell around her instead of hail.
“Child, you are welcome,” she said, and opened her eyes. When she looked at me, it was the gaze of Winter’s Queen. Whatever moment she’d just spent being a person was tucked away once more.
“I have a question,” I asked.
“Go on.”
“Why don’t you do it? You seem to like him.”
Amusement quirked her mouth. “Like him… child, if it were simply a matter of bedding him, I need not call on you. I would spare you this if it were something I could do myself.”
I believed her, which raised some questions. “Why can’t you?” I frowned, remembering Molly’s protest that she couldn’t marry because it wouldn’t work. What the heck did that mean?
“Certain aspects of my power have to do with choices I made when I was mortal,” Mab said. “There would be… compatibility issues, with a marriage. This is part of the task the Knight was designed for.”
We were back to speaking different languages again. “I’m a person, not a design,” I pointed out. “I might not be fundamentally incompatible with marriage, but I sure as hell am with Marcone.”
Mab looked amused again, the faintest sign of humor in her eyes. “No. You are not incompatible at all. You deliberately set yourself at odds with him because you imagined how terrible a creature you might become if you grasped after power the way he does.”
Ouch. That was maybe… not wrong, but also a fantastic reason not to marry the guy.
“That’s just incompatible with more words,” I protested. “And if you think I’m going to put on a black hat and start twirling my moustache because you marry me off to a gangster, you’ve got another thing coming.”
She sighed. “Assuming I’ve parsed that correctly, you’re being tiresomely obtuse.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m rubber and you're glue,” I retorted, prompting Mab to reach up and flick me on the ear before I could get out of range. “Ow!”
“Manners, child. I have no plans to alter you. Have you not proven to be of great value as you are?”
I stared at her in disbelief. “You hung the mantle round my neck! I have to fight to be who I am every goddamn day, and if I slip—” the burn across my arm itched. If I slipped, and I was lucky, I had friends to call me back to myself. “If I slip it’s going to be no fun for anybody if I do it in Marcone’s company.”
Mab shook her head. “Still your vision is clouded. I admit you needed to be at odds with the Baron to grow. The power you have taken, bite by bite, hasn’t devoured you. You have mastered the mantle. You may master more. But the time for playground rivals has passed.”
Apparently Mab thought of my precarious detente with Marcone as existential training wheels. I had no idea what the hell kind of bike she wanted me to ride.
“If I ask you to explain any of that you’re going to say something infuriatingly cryptic, aren’t you?” I tried.
“The time has not yet come.”
“Goddamnit!” I yelled. I may even have stamped my foot. I’d been promised answers and I wasn't in the mood to wait a year for them.
“Our world has become infinitely more uncertain and dangerous. We must become stronger and more stable to face it, securing both the appearance and fact of a secure alliance with a competent partner.”
“Great. Super rational, makes sense,” I agreed. “But that’s not how relationships work, Mab! It shouldn’t be forced!”
She was unmoved, staring me down with glacial certainty. “You have a year to persuade yourself of his merits.”
I knew she couldn’t understand, was maybe incapable of understanding, but I kept trying. “There’s not a switch I can flick in my brain that’s going to make me want to marry John Marcone!”
Her look was cold. “Your wants are immaterial. There is no margin here for you to dance within. Bend, wizard. Or I will break you.”
I drew in a breath and let it out again. “I guess we’ll see.”
Her eyes glinted. But she looked like someone who had heard what she expected to hear. She inclined her head to me in an opponent's acknowledgement. “We will see.”
And then I walked out of that one-to-one with my boss to hop in a car with my other sort-of boss to see her folks for Sunday dinner. And break the whole Winter Lady deal. Which it turned out they already knew.
There was a lot of hugging. And some crying. And heaps of good food.
And I held my kid and my dog and knew no matter what was coming, I had steady ground to face it from.
************************************
I had a lot of building to do, and a lot of breaking down. Crazy as it was, I couldn’t turn my attention to the marriage situation straightaway.
It’s different, grieving as a parent. Grief is all consuming, it fills your heart and your life, it’s all you can see, but at the same time… you make room.
Because Maggie needed me. She needed her dad to be there for her, doing dad things, loving her.
So even though I spent my nights swamped in dreams, haunted by Murphy’s pale face and her dark blood, come morning I got up.
I had things to do.
My brother was trapped on Demonreach. I had no idea how to free him without his hunger eating him alive. His lover was being puppeteered by the adversary, taking his future child along for the ride. My future niece or nephew. Maggie’s cousin. Every tracking spell I tried fizzled out. I didn’t stop trying.
But some problems have obvious solutions. You laid stone on stone, hammer to nail. You asked a friend to lend a hand.
Michael went with me to survey the hole in the castle roof. We measured a few things. Michael wrote things down and I tried to wrap my head around how renovations would interface with the castle’s defences. That was definitely a question for Bob.
Michael and I were in the middle of debating a skylight when someone stuck their head into the hall with a hesitant “Hello?”
We turned to see a vaguely familiar man come into the hall, followed by a relaxed and wolfy Will Borden who’d been guarding the castle door. He’d evidently allowed the man to pass. I belatedly recognised him; medium build, brown wavy hair, a pair of glasses now held together by tape over the nose - it was the father from the first house where River Shoulders and I fought the Huntsmen. The man with a wife and child who’d trusted me because he’d remembered my dog.
“Harry Dresden?” the guy said in surprise.
“Yeah,” I said, managing a smile. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Velasquez. Luis Velasquez. I didn’t expect anyone to still be here,” he said, looking around and offering Michael an equally strained smile of greeting.
It felt clumsy, making introductions in the wake of something as transformative as the Battle. Like we should already know one another properly. But we fumbled through.
“There’s been a change of ownership,” I explained. “Welcome to Castle Dresden, Mr Velasquez. Can I help you with something?”
“Ah, perhaps?” he said, scanning the hall once more. “We cleared out in a hurry when the fighting stopped. Have you seen a toy rabbit?”
I blinked. Chicago was still in turmoil, the streets still full of hazards, transport difficult to source — Velasquez had made his way here from wherever his family were sheltering, for a toy.
“A rabbit?” I questioned.
He resettled his glasses on his nose, where the poorly mended break was clearly starting to rub. “My little girl, Sophia — she sleeps with a toy rabbit. Mr. Hopps. It’s the only thing left from— from before. She held onto him until we got to the castle, but we haven’t seen him since.”
Michael and I traded looks of paternal understanding. Yeah, that was the kind of thing a father might hazard the streets for.
“Got your cell?” I asked Michael.
“Powered off, but yes.”
I fished some chalk out of my pocket and drew a circle round him. “I haven’t seen any toys, Mr Velasquez. But I’ll find out if anyone picked it up during the clear out. Michael, call this number for me, put it on speaker.”
Vasquez looked at the circle in confusion as Michael dialled Marcone’s number. It rang three times before he answered.
“Who is this?” Marcone said.
“Hey, honey,” I said. “When your people cleared the castle, was there a toy rabbit?”
“A toy…” Marcone sighed. “Good afternoon, Dresden. Anything I didn’t have claim to was crated up in the gym. Try there.”
“Great. Oh, hey, what do you want me to do with your mail?”
There was a beat of silence in which I grinned to myself. “Dresden, I’m busy. If you’d like to discuss something serious, make an appointment.”
“Well that just doesn’t sound very romantic, John. A boy needs spontaneity in his life, you know?”
Marcone hung up. I took a moment to enjoy my powers of long distance irritation.
“Was that who I think it was?” Velasquez said warily.
“Previous owner of this castle,” I confirmed. “Follow me. Will, you still good guarding the door?
Will dipped his head and padded back out. Velasquez followed after me while Michael returned to jotting down measurements.
“So, you, uh… You really think it’s smart to talk to him like that?” Velasquez asked.
“For me? Yeah. Keeps him on his toes.” I said. Before Mab’s announcement I’d fully intended on taking a more reasoned approach to dealing with the guy. I didn’t have the institutional weight of the White Council to back me up when I threw my weight around, and I was under no illusions about how the Battle would have gone without him. He was due my respect. But the suddenly engaged! aspect of our relationship had tripped me into familiar habits.
“Probably not a smart hobby for people who can’t blow up monsters with bits of wood, though,” he mused.
“Maybe not.” I could feel Velasquez considering me. Chicago hadn’t been too friendly to the supernaturally inclined since the battle. “You got any questions about that?”
“You can do magic,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah,” I said, taking note of our relative positions on the stairs, and how easy it would be to push him down them with a shield if he turned on me. “It’s a gift. And a lot of hard work.”
“I see. Well, I’m glad you’re still here. I didn’t get a chance to thank you.”
Sometimes, if you let them, people can surprise you. “What are neighbors for, right?”
“Most neighbors can’t do what you do.” He paused on the steps. I looked back down at him to find the colour washing out of his cheeks. ”It was like a nightmare, Mr. Dresden. Monsters came for my family and I couldn’t do anything about it. We’re alive because of you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, which sounded kind of inadequate.
Velasquez clearly felt the same. He shook his head and said, “We owe you. Everyone from this block owes you.”
Those weren’t words you should throw at a guy with a faerie mantle wrapped around his life. I shrugged off the mantle’s stirring interest.
“Pay it forward,” I said instead, focussing on the work of being human. “Times are going to be tough. People are going to hurt. For a long time.” Murphy, on the pavement, bleeding out. I closed my eyes and swallowed it down. Later, I could go to pieces later. “Next time you can help, help, and we’ll call it even.”
“I like your philosophy,” Velasquez said. “The world needs more of it.”
We traded shaky smiles and got moving. When we got to the gym I spotted a couple of crates against the back wall I’d overlooked on my brief survey of the castle. I unclipped the lids and gazed down at a random assortment of items. Was that einherjarr laundry? Surely Marcone could have sent that back via Monoc -- was I obliged to now? I poked around hesitantly until I caught sight of a long floppy ear, and then fished out a plump pink rabbit holding a fuzzy carrot. “Ah hah. Mr Hopps, I presume?”
“That’s him!” Velasquez’s face lit up. Mission accomplished. “Sophia will be so happy.”
Something else caught my eye in the box, and I reached in to pull out a backpack. If it was anything like the bugout bag I packed for Maggie… I unzipped the front pouch. Passports.
“Oh man. Those are going to be a pain in the ass to replace right now.” I realized.
“Anyone we know?” Velasquez asked. I checked.
“Jim and Alice Caziel.”
“Weren’t they at number 23? The nurse and teacher with the Labrador?” Velasquez had a good memory for dogs.
“Oh yeah. Mouse liked her.”
“Hang on, I think they’re still on the street Whattsapp group,” he said, pulling a cellphone out of his pocket. “Not everyone’s managed to replace a phone yet but I’m sure my wife mentioned they messaged about finding space in the Wrigleyville shelter.” He was tapping away at his cell as he spoke and I moved away, round the other side of the crate. There were a few other things in there that didn’t look like laundry. I frowned.
“Did everyone leave in a hurry?”
“No one wanted to cross Marcone’s men. When they told us to clear out to the shelters, we cleared out.”
“This isn’t Marcone’s castle any more.” I said, with immediate and total conviction. The Mantle agreed with me. “This is your neighborhood. No-one has to leave unless they want to leave. I have space enough for everyone.”
Velasquez looked up from the phone and blinked. “That’s— an incredible offer, Mr Dresden. We’re lucky. My sister's house wasn’t touched, but we’re crammed in like sardines. Some of our neighbors… not all of the shelters feel safe. But are you sure? You’ve already done so much.”
“Not enough,” I said, voice choking off as I remembered a bloody cradle on its side. There could never be enough. The city had bled and bled and bled. But after the bleeding, all you could do was keep moving. “This place is too big for just me. What’s the point in having a castle if you don’t use it to protect people?”
As soon as I finished speaking, I heard a bell ring. I knew, without knowing how, that it came from within the castle, and I felt like I’d stood there before, spoken the same words, and heard the chime.
The last time I’d felt that way, I’d been standing on Demonreach.
Velasquez gave no indication of having heard anything. So far as I knew, the castle didn’t even have a bell.
“I can pass the message along, Mr Dresden, and I’ll speak to my wife,” he said.
“Call me Harry,” I said, rather than raving about mysterious bells. Another question for Bob.
“Thank you, Harry. Luis.” We shook hands again, and the scale of what I’d proposed started catching up with me.
“There’s going to be rules,” I said. “Briefings. A lot of information - things people need to abide by to keep us safe.”
“Of course,” he nodded. “After what we saw… if you’re willing to teach, I’m sure people will want to learn.”
************************************************************
Before my displaced neighbors could arrive, I looked to my defences.
Marcone had overlooked the real key to the castle - it required a spirit to interact with the majority of its functions, like Alfred did for me on the island. That wasn’t where the similarities ended: The spells woven into the stones were ancient and still functional, and they bore a startling structural resemblance to those that had been used to create Demonreach. It convinced me the castle was the work of the original Merlin or one of his students.
And now, like Demonreach, it belonged to me.
I made my way down to my lab and set Bob’s skull down on a shelf Michael had fixed for me. It was the first room in the castle to be fully furnished, and it felt good to be back. I set a candle to either side of Bob’s skull and lit it. Then I set a pile of racy reading material beside him.
“Welcome to your new home, Bob. You have my permission to explore the castle and configure the defences. Raise the drawbridge!”
Bob’s eye lights flared before he floated out from the skull, drifting back up to the trapdoor. I scrambled up a stepladder behind him, and watched as Bob sank into one of the stones of the wall. It started to glow blue.
“Whoah! It’s big in here,” his voice said. I don’t know why I expected it to echo; he sounded the same as always. “Kinda lacking in drawbridges.”
“You know what I mean,” I said, flapping a hand at him. “Figure out how to stop all the things that want to take a swing at me from getting in.”
Without the backing of the White Council, picking a fight with me wouldn’t drag anyone into a war. It’d only piss Mab off if they made their move at the stupidest of moments. Open season on Harry Dresden.
“Oh, hey. Gargoyles!” Bob said in delight. “Just what I always wanted.”
I smothered a smile. I knew Bob had enjoyed his time with Butters, gaining exposure to the internets and Butters’ unexpected love triangle— triad? What was it called when everyone was happy about it?— but Butters wasn’t a wizard. He didn’t own a magic castle. He couldn’t give Bob strange and ancient magics to explore. I got the feeling Bob was going to like this place.
“Huh. Boss, there’s something pointed at the Nevernever too but it’s… complex. Like, complex in more dimensions than I’m confident I’m perceiving. Not sure I should mess with it.”
“Right. Maybe leave that until last. My godmother will have it covered anyway.”
“Also, there’s someone at the door,” Bob said casually. “Redcap. Oh, hey— cool, I think we can wipe out glamor and illusions down the whole block. Whooeee this is a whole lotta fun!”
“Redcap?” I asked, suddenly glad I’d prioritized the defences. “A redcap or the redcap?”
“How many do you know?” Bob asked in confusion.
“One too many. Why the hell is he knocking on my door?”
“I can ask him?”
“Uh, no.” I did not want Bob coming to Winter’s official attention. I suspected Mab already knew about him, but that was different to knowing about him.
I jogged along to the front doors and slid open the viewing panel just as the Redcap knocked again. “Go away,” I said.
He peered in at me with a resigned expression. “Such gracious welcome, Knight,” he sighed, and lifted an envelope into view. “My lady cannot bring you this herself. So I am come at her bidding.”
An errand from Molly. I understood her picking someone I knew, but considering what I knew amounted to him being a merciless double agent, I’d rather she’d entrusted it to the postal service.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Apparently? A marriage contract.” A lightning smile flickered across his face. It kind of made me want to punch him. “You and the Baron? A formidable match.”
Then he paused to invite a reply, peering in at me like I was a particularly interesting animal at the zoo. The fae were drawn to the emotional complexities of mortal lives, even if they didn’t fully understand them. This was probably the Redcap equivalent of a soap opera.
“Are you here for gossip?” I growled.
“But of course,” he smiled again. “Our courtly knight will be taking a man to wed. Will you pull back his chair? Defend his honor?”
“He doesn’t have any,” I snapped, but immediately knew myself a liar. Marcone had plenty, if you knew where to look. It was part of the reason he was so infuriating.
“Ah, so he’ll be defending yours?” The Redcap asked. “Interesting.”
“There is nothing interesting about this,” I said, and hauled the door open to discover the Redcap was dressed as a mailman. Except his hat was red instead of blue, and he’d done nothing to hide his otherworldly beauty. It left him looking like a lithe, dark haired mailman with a sideline in modelling. He was enjoying this far too much.
The Redcap rested one hand high on the doorframe and leaned in towards me. Arrogant, giving me a clear shot at his torso. But he was here at the Winter Lady’s bidding and stabbing him through the solar plexus with an icicle would probably inconvenience Molly. I refrained.
“Come now,” he purred. “Surely the wedding night will arouse some interest?”
I froze. My brain had been so filled with outrage at the idea of being married to Marcone that I hadn’t considered the details of getting married. To accept a knighthood, I’d had to give all of myself to Mab. To bind Winter and the Barony…
What was I obliged to do?
Whatever was happening on my face caught the Redcap’s attention. “Is that a maidenly blush?” he asked. “If you’d like to get some practice in—”
I snatched the envelope off him. “Redcap, thou hast fulfilled thy mistress’s command!” I snapped. “Begone, begone, begone!”
It hardly counted as a banishing, but the Redcap flinched, and I felt something like a pressure flow past me from the open door of the castle. Huh.
“I go, Knight,” he said, and disappeared from the street. I slammed the door.
I had a contract to read and a criminal to talk out of marrying me.