The White Council took its time and it more or less actively ignored the existence of one Harry Dresden as their warden for a very long time. Harry expected the hammer to fall any given day, but there was nothing. Not even a slap on the wrist when he stirred up more trouble than the Council was comfortable with.
Tumbleweed and crickets.
Two years into their partnership and not a peep. Morgan kept a really low profile and while Harry did some heavy magic sometimes, ran into trouble with the supernatural and took out some insane sorcerers twice in that time, nothing happened. No one, not even Ebe, wagged their fingers at him. Or summoned him to Edinburgh.
Nothing.
It was eerie and had him more on edge than the Doom of Damocles had ever managed. It was a false peace, one of waiting, watching, more waiting, carefully probing, and finally…
A written note.
On white stationary that could be found at every corner store.
Not even a personal visit.
"You terrify them," Bob commented gleefully. "Anyone else gets either a call to the Dungeons of Dusty Despair or a personal visit from someone with a big sword and the threat of a beheading. You get a note. Almost a post-it. They are wetting their robes, boss, I tell ya!"
The envelope with the letter had been delivered by courier to Executive Priority, addressed to Wizard Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, which was a huge red flag to begin with.
They had sent it to one of Marcone's holdings!
Not Dresden's office, not his old apartment, not delivered while he was out and about.
One of John's places.
And Marcone had in turn delivered it to Harry. He hadn't taken it with him to the townhouse, simply dropped it off in the PI office with a pointed look. Hendricks was outside, waiting in the dark limousine
"They know about us."
"Of course." Dark brows rose. "Considering how quiet everything was in regards to White Council presence in your or my life, it was to be expected."
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Bob lamented. "Sometimes I weep for this new generation of wizards! They always knew what you harbored, boss! They actively tried to not have you access your full potential. I'm just surprised it didn't take them so much longer, actually." The last was said with a shrewd look at Marcone.
Marcone's expression said he agreed with the skull's deduction and he looked rather pleased about it.
The note was brief and to the point. Harry Dresden, wizard, would retain his position as warden.
"Because it suits them," John interpreted. "To have you as their executive power."
Harry grimaced.
Then he stared at the words in disbelief.
"Stars and Stones…" he murmured. "That's… that can't be real! They can't be serious!"
"Sounds very serious to me."
The letter stated he would not fall under any regional commander's or the captain's dominion. He had the status of a special agent, working within his own council and liable to only the Lord of the area he had been assigned to. Permanently assigned to. It should read like a demotion, kicked down the evolutionary ladder of wardens worldwide, but it didn't feel like it. It felt like he had just been set free of all restraints. The White Council hadn't given him the boot, but they had also renounced all ties or any kind of responsibility when it came to one Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden. Whatever he did from now on, they weren't liable. Nor would it fall back upon them.
There was a devilish glint in Marcone's eyes and the slow smile was both unhallowed and pleased. There was an almost flirtatious edge to it, something that pinged on Harry's libido and he fought his reaction to it.
"Forget it, Marcone! I'm not working for you," he grumbled, just because. And because he could be so easily baited, damnit!
"You are. More or less. You are their emissary, Harry. To me."
Bob snickered. "Ambassador Harry Dresden! Boss doesn't have a diplomatic bone in his body!" He howled in laughter. "Oh, this is so, so good!"
"Hammer, Bob. Big sledge-hammer!"
The skull was rocking left and right, still laughing manically. He nearly tipped over. Dresden ignored him and directed his warning look at Marcone.
"If you think I'm going to be one of your enforcers, scrap that idea right now!" It got him a laugh. Harry swatted at the other man. "Jackass!"
"They more or less shoved you off to work on your own and they really washed their hands of your actions from here on out," Bob said, sounding pleased. He was still rocking back and forth, giggling now and then. "I knew they would chicken out!"
Yes, that was more or less his status now. Not a rogue, not declared dark, still a wizard and warden of the White Council, but assigned to the Freehold of Chicago and its Baron. Indefinitely. Actually not much a loan, more like promoting him to get rid of a meddlesome wizard. It gave him a lot more freedom to work as he did, without looking over his shoulder in case someone tried to lop his head off for a perceived transgression. He fell under Marcone's jurisdiction; completely.
Chicago had effectively become a much greater power than before, elevated by the presence of an emissary who was outside Council control but not rogue, and the equal partner of a Freeholding Lord. From Marcone's expression, he knew it and he had played for it.
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Did you do this?"
"While I might have had an idea to the effect, I did not contact any of the Senior Council," John said smoothly. "Suggestions might have been made through third parties."
He gaped at him. "You strong-armed the Senior Council into this?!"
"That is a rather inept description of events."
"Damnit, John! What would you call it then? Blackmail? Bribery? Veiled threats that sound like compliments and suggestions?"
Marcone gave him that CEO smile. "An offer was made to an interested party to take a problem off their hands, clearing them of all accusations in connection with that aforementioned problem. A simple contract."
"You bought me?!" Harry exclaimed. "And I'm not a problem!"
"The Council begs to differ. You hold your own category of problematic wizards, Mr. Dresden."
Bob was howling with laughter, tipping over his skull this time. Marcone reached over and righted him again.
"And no, I didn't buy you. I ensured you are free of any Doom or warden oversight. You are only liable to the Freehold of Chicago, which is mine and cannot be transferred to anyone's power even through my absence. You are no more indebted or beholden to me than I am to you as your anchor and shield. Your servitude is not bound to payment in any form or currency. You are an unconditional emissary, a special agent, with the full power at your command to protect our city."
Harry's mind whirled, the possibilities endless, the freedom… he had never been this free. He knew what this meant. He knew it gave John all power, sure, but also all responsibility for each and every action of one Harry Dresden. Harry in turn only had to report back to him, would have only this ne responsibility, though it was an immense one. He was representing John Marcone, the Baron. Actually, he was this Baron's partner… significant other… whatever… well, Harry Dresden was John Marcone's wizard.
Something inside him unfurled and it wasn't raging against the proprietary word. It was actually quite… okay with it all.
"John…"
"You were mine since the day we met, Harry Dresden," John told him with a patient look. "I refused to accept anyone's hold on you. Your debt to the Leanansidhe's, to Winter; the power of command the Council has over you. Nothing of this surpasses my claim and your connection to me. I hated the very idea of those people having anything on you."
Harry shivered and he looked into the burning eyes. "You're insane," he whispered. "Do you know what you did?"
"Yes."
Of course he did. He was John Marcone. He never half-assed anything, unlike a certain wizard.
"Nothing changes," Marcone continued. "You operate as before."
"No daily reports?" Harry quipped.
"Your typing is atrocious."
"You should see his chicken scrawl," Bob threw in.
"Shut up, Bob," Dresden growled.
"Harry." Marcone's voice was serious all of a sudden. "Nothing has changed," he repeated, voice low and intense. "You are not my enforcer or employee, but you are also not under the White Council's eyes anymore. Transferring the liability to me was their only way to wash their hands of any of your future actions in case it comes to confrontations with Faerie over you. Or anyone else."
"But I work for you now," he grumbled, just for good measure and good old times.
"With me. And I work with you." Marcone leaned back, smiling calmly. "Nothing has changed," he repeated.
"Except for everything?"
It got him a lazy shrug.
"You established yourself as an island realm within the mortal world, John! Everyone already calls it a Protectorate! That's halfway to neutral territory!"
"Possibly."
"But… Do you have any idea what this means?"
"Yes. I do."
He stared at him. "Do you? Really? Because there's a really good reason why we see all the supernatural shit that comes down on this city."
"Because Chicago is a crossroads both physical and metaphysical with ley lines having dozens of confluences that either run through town or nearby," John said with an unbecoming smirk. "I do listen to you, Harry. And I've sat through too many Accords meetings that discussed all of that. As a mortal Freeholding Lord you get to hear the whole ley lines part again and again. Some people don't like who and what I am, that this powerful crossroads is mine. I am very much aware that the Great Lakes region has a lot of ley line activity, which is both a blessing and a curse magically speaking."
Harry swallowed, feeling the jittery magic hum all around him. Of course Marcone knew. Of course! And he was building a semi-neural fortress over those crossroads, had already set himself up as the Baron of the region, which would soon encompass the Great Lakes region itself for sure.
Marcone rose and reached out to cup Harry's neck, squeezing gently. "Breathe. Calm down."
"This…"
"This is you and me now. Equals. Our territory. Remember what Marlin said."
"Hell's Bells…!"
Marcone just met his eyes, so very calm, a rock in the stormy see that was Harry's emotional response. Cool, perfectly under control, easing the strain on his raw magic and keeping it from surging. Instead it spilled over into John, washing through him like a soft wave. The fierce protectiveness was there, almost palpable, intense and unwavering.
Bob's sockets flared as he watched the dance of blue and orange tendrils, weaving and twining around Marcone.
"Whoa," he murmured. "They really should wet their dusty old robes."
Harry blinked and the magic dissipated. John just smiled at him, calm and even-tempered, fingers sliding over the strong neck in a feather-light caress. Dresden leaned forward and brushed a kiss over the other man's lips, then rested his forehead against Marcone's.
"You're a crazy bastard," he whispered. "Certifiable!"
"No. I'm a business man, Harry. I run an organization. The city is my business. As I told you before, I make my decisions based on what is best for my city. And you."
His shield. Protective to an insane degree.
"I know what it means to be almost neutral, to have and to handle this much leverage and power. I am very much aware what your position as my emissary and liaison of the White Council entails. I wanted this, Harry. I wanted you and I wanted Chicago to be less of a battlefield and Faerie playground. What we have is a powder keg, but I control the fuse and I won't let it go up."
Okay. Wow. Really… Wow…
"I love you," he whispered.
Because that was all Harry could think of. How much he loved this man, how much he meant to him, because all of this was what Harry had seen in the man's soul so many years ago. This was John.
"I really, really love you, you crazy bastard."
Marcone's expression softened, the eyes so very green and intense. "You always had a way with words. Very romantic."
"You know me."
"Only too well."
Harry wrapped his arms around the hard-muscled form, their lips finding each other again. The kiss was brief, almost chaste. Soft and tender at first, tongues slowly exploring already well known territory, but discovering something new each time. The kiss became more, deeper and more fierce, until a more trivial need made them pull back to simply breathe again.
"Oh, don't mind me watching!" Bob crowed. "This is goooood. You're not just glowing there, boss. You're radiating like a sun!"
Dresden groaned and Marcone chuckled.
"Any other time I wouldn't mind continuing this discussion," he murmured, voice low and seductive. "Privately. In depth. Very much in detail, too. But I do have an important meeting in an hour. Mr. Hendricks will be here in ten to pick me up."
Harry stole another kiss. "I don't want to know."
"Regular business," Marcone teased, a glint in those green eyes.
Which could mean anything from control of weapons trafficking to donating a substantial amount to an art gallery or a children's hospital.
With a last kiss they separated and Marcone smoothed his not even rumpled looking suit.
True to his words, Hendricks was there ten minutes later.
Harry just scrubbed a hand over his face, standing in the room like he had lost his way and had no idea where he was. It was an apt description.
His eyes fell on the letter again. That plain but so very potent letter.
He had been given the boot, while still keeping his credentials, and now he was kind of a free agent, just that all his actions would be in accord to the Chicago territory and its weird new standing among the other realms. He really had to wrap his head around that.
"Wow," he murmured.
Bob only hummed.
xxXxx
It took a while to settle in.
Nothing had changed and yet everything was different than before.
Harry still worked his PI cases and he had the occasional consultant job with the PD. There were some altercations with practitioners who got in over their heads, which had all kinds of nasty things loose in Chicago. Still, it wasn't as bad as before.
The Red Court was gone, the Black Court's two survivors had disappeared, and the White Court was more or less keeping to themselves. Encounters with Lara Raith were far and few.
Thomas, on the other hand, loved to hang around. They had had a brotherly drinking game right after Harry had told him about the White Council's dismissal of him. Thomas had sounded as gleeful and cheery as Bob about it, claiming it was about time and they better watch their robed butts. Then he had proceeded to decimate Harry's beer and getting lots of pizza out of that night, too.
The White Council hadn't so much as sent a postcard after kicking him firmly into Marcone's territory and handing over responsibility of Harry's actions to the Baron of Chicago. Not even Ebe had called or paid him a visit. Harry in turn hadn't sought out his grandfather either.
Yes, Chicago had quieted down considerably and while Dresden didn't trust that calm, he also didn't feel like it was the calm before a massive storm.
Things were changing around them.
The city was now a Freeholding Protectorate, with a sentinel in form of a powerful wizard who was still growing into his abilities, who was bound to the lord of this Protectorate, and who still upheld the seven Laws of Magic. Harry Dresden felt quite protective of the City of Chicago and its inhabitants.
Baron John Marcone still had no intention to branch out. Chicago was his city. There had been no further attempts on his life or his businesses. And while so much had changed, while he was so much more powerful in the eyes of those who watched from a distance, Marcone didn't wield that power. He didn't make offensive moves, let matters run their course as long as nothing interfered with his city, and he made sure alliances and contracts were upheld. He simply made sure that his Hold was safe, defending when necessary.
Mundane crime was just as before. Some days were better, some worse, and Harry had his share of cases and even consultations. Supernatural elements did pop up, but so far it had been rather laid-back encounters, with a few more adventurous ones trying a thing to two. What had grown were the neutrals coming through and staying for a while. One or two had even openly approached Marcone and asked for temporary residence.
Harry looked out over the dark lake in front of him, felt the power in the ground, the air, the very core of the Hold. It hummed, touching his own magical core, caressing that mirror of power, and he had never felt so much in control and at peace. He no longer feared what he could unleash, was no longer terrified to reach for the elemental force and wield it. He knew his own magic fed what wove through the whole city, declared to anyone foolish enough to enter that there was a powerful guardian keeping watch. He inhaled the cold air, felt his magic whisper around him in response to the imprint his presence had already left.
Two years.
They had been connected for two years and already the imprint was there and going strong.
Merlin had said there would be interesting times ahead. Harry almost snorted. His whole life had been nothing but interesting times so far, though the best that had ever happened in that short life had been Marcone.
He started back toward where he had parked his car. It started faithfully for once and he headed toward the city, toward home, and toward the man who had given him all that and so much more; more than Harry could ever put into words.
The man he loved.