This is seriously awful, I am sorry. Try not to read it. You have better things to do. This just fails on so many levels. The reason I'm posting is that breaking a promise would be even worse.
"So tell me," the girl says, tilting her head up at them. "Tell me everything. You have to."
Michael Carpenter pours her a glass of juice. Over a decade has passed since... since. But he can still remember Harry's face, its sharp angles and pallor and the dark bold eyes. The girl resembles him so much it's painful.
Oh, not the precise features. But the expression. The obstinacy. The same anger, although Harry carried a great more with him, and it always showed.
"He was a good man," he answers honestly. Maggie's- she told him that she was Margaret Dresden when she met him at the door, but Michael could help but think of her as Maggie- eyes narrow, and her impatience with him is palpable. The same temper. Michael hides his smile. "I'm sorry- what do you mean by 'everything'? If you ask me, I'll try to answer."
"Will you?" she says. Or seethes. She's intense.
"I'll try to try?" he offers, and has the pleasure of seeing her smile. Just a little, but it's good to see. "Things were... complicated. Please. Ask. I'll try to help you out."
"Is he still alive?"
Such a simple question. Michael answers honestly, as usual. "I do not know." For sure. Almost certainly the Winter Knight was still on the move- he would have heard otherwise- but, ah, there was always a margin of doubt, yes? And it would be... dangerous. If she tried to find out more. "He disappeared."
"What happened to me?"
"I wasn't there."
"So something did happen."
Michael sighs. Some things had to give. "Yes, it did. I don't know the specifics. He saved your life."
"Who's my mom?" she asks, and when he hesitates she snaps, "You said you'd try!"
"I'm trying!" Michael raises his hands, and smiles at him apologetically. No, there would be no danger in telling her about a woman named Susan Rodriguez. She almost certainly had no living relatives. Her liaison with Harry Dresden had been a relatively short one. But about Harry himself, he would- no, he could- say nothing. He should not. The last thing he wanted to happen to Harry was seeing what he'd lost.
Or the other way around, he reminded himself. The last thing he wanted for Maggie was to let her see what her father had become.
--
Billy Borden does not offer her juice.
"Fuuuuck," he says when she introduced herself. "Fucking hell."
He is not tall, but Margaret is not tall for her age, either, and she has to tilt her head nonetheless. "Well, you didn't get his height, did you?" he finally says, holding open the door. She slips in.
He gives her a beer, and calls down a tall woman. They both blink at her for a minute before sitting down. Margaret starts to talk, but he holds a hand up, and gulps down two cans before finally staring at her in the eye.
"Do I look like him?" Margaret asks.
"Hell no," he says instantly, at the same time his wife vehemently says "Oh yes." They look at each other.
"I mean, her eyes." Georgia says.
"She looks like Susan."
"No, I mean, unfocus your eyes a bit," Georgia says. "Hey kid, stick out your chin a bit and try to look obstinately heroic."
Margaret hides a smile. Billy breaks out into laughter- genuine, if a bit hysterical. "Jesus," he says. "I can't believe I'm meeting you."
She tries her beer. Her dad never lets her have any. It's not bitter, but it's not to her liking, either. It tastes a bit weak. She sets it down.
"Where have you been?" Georgia asks, and Margaret blinks at the question. She's supposed to be the one with questions, it throws her a bit off track. "I mean, where- where did you go?" she adds, when Margaret doesn't look away. "We never, uh, found out."
"We know your dad got you somewhere safe," Billy adds, "But we never found out. Um."
There's a small silence.
"I lived near here," Margaret says, and that's the end of it. They don't want to know more; she asks why.
"Hell," Billy laughs. "If someone comes here and tries to ask for you to get leverage against your dad, I don't want to be the one to-"
"Will," Georgia says, laughter gone from her voice, and she elbows him hard in the ribs. He yelps.
Margaret knows that they find her sudden alertness disconcerting. They're werewolves, she knows, and she finds a familiar wariness from their quarter. They stare at each other.
"So he's alive," she says softly.
"It's not like she wasn't going to find out," Billy says, rubbing his side.
Georgia rolls her eyes. "Jesus."
"Where is he? What happened to him? What does he do?" she raps out, and watches them carefully consider her questions. She can tell that they don't want to lie to her, it's obvious in the twist of Georgia's lips as she stares at Maggie's face, Billy Borden's frown, their hands knotting and twisting in their laps.
"Neither of us knows where he is. We don't know what he does," Billy says, at last, carefully.
"Fuck you." Margaret says, impatience finally boiling up. "Tell me! It's not like I'm going to chase after him and get myself in danger! I know about this sort of thing, okay? I just want to fucking know!"
"He always played the barbarian in our D&D games," he says.
She crosses her arms.
"I... we're not the best people to talk to you about this," Billy tries again at last."You'd better talk to Karrin."
---
She recognizes the girl at once.
She's wearing jeans and a white blouse, and a loose jacket on top of that. She might as well be just another girl, coming in with a complaint, or a newbie's girlfriend, inattentive to the STAFF ONLY signs on the doors, but something jerks her eyes up to the girl's dark hair and a flash of a thin, delicate nose and a strong jaw. She's aware of setting her papers down and staring hard, trying to get a better glimpse; but she doesn't need to. Magnetically, the girl's head turns, and their eyes meet, like in some bad movie, across the room.
"Lieutenant Murphy?" the girl calls, and the room hushes for a moment- not because of the words, but because the voice is clear and carrying and authoritative. The kind of voice that makes people shut up, because it says: listen to me. This is important.
Karrin clears her throat. "Sergeant," she says, an old scar, and she experimentally brushes it with a thought to see if it hurts.
It does not. In the face of the girl she gave up her career for, it no longer seems to matter, Sergeant or Lieutenant or goddamn Chief, all those stupid shallow things that will never equal the shine of her blade or the spreading smile on Maggie Dresden's face.
"Sergeant Murphy," she repeats, and the girl walks closer. She drinks in her features, the clean tan skin, the eyes, the cheekbones. "Let's go for a drink."
Murphy buys her coffee and a slice of light chocolate mousse. The girl smiles irresistibly; she is adorable. "You're sixteen now?" Murphy asks.
"Seventeen," she insists.
"...This June," she admits.
Murphy smiles.
"You, er. You're a Knight of the Cross," Maggie says. "Why- um, no offense, why are you-"
"I got into some trouble a few years ago," Murphy says. "I- was offered a new job. I took it. But I didn't leave my old one."
Maggie looks troubled. It's the same expression Harry used to wear when she was talking about her crappy job. That she'd never leave, but, yes. "I- that trouble- it was because of me?"
She can see it's a shot in the dark. The girl knows almost nothing. But she doesn't want to lie, so she snakes out her fork and steals a bit of the cake before she answers: yes.
"I have nightmares," the girl confesses. "There's- fire, I think, and..."
Murphy clears her throat. "You came to ask about your father. Will gave me a heads up, but I was expecting you a week earlier."
"What- oh, yeah." Maggie shrugs. "I had this internship thing."
Which revives Murphy's curiosity about where this girl went, precisely- Dresden handed her off to someone after they came back, but she doesn't know whom to. But she doesn't want to endanger anyone.
"He fought monsters," Murphy says.
Her eyes shine.
Murphy tells her more.
---- They fly to Vegas the very next day; Maggie fobs off her dad with some excuse about a sleepover, and Murphy takes some long overdue leave. Maggie pays for her ticket.
"Is he dangerous?" she asks.
"White Court." Murphy answers. "Done your reading?"
She has.
She's still not prepared to meet Thomas Raith, whose grin disarms her almost instantly. She nearly reels. "Stop that." she gasps.
"Not something I can really help," he says, with an apologetic, liquid shrug that makes her imagine things she didn't even know. Then he blinks. "Karrin. You brought-"
"She seems fairly responsible," she says. "Use your discretion. She wants to know about Harry."
His mouth is open. "You have- wow. Hi. Um."
She folds her arms, and he suddenly bursts out into laughter. "Oh god, you have the same- way of- looking-"
He's howling in the parking lot, hysterically amused, and Murphy kicks him lightly in the ribs. "I'm sorry." he says, not sounding sorry at all. "Oh my god. Where did you go?"
"I live with my dad," she mutters.
"I'm not even going to ask," he giggles, and then unexpectedly pulls her close and kisses her on the cheek. She's too surprised to stiffen. "You know you're my niece?"
"Thomas!" Murphy says, sounding shocked.
"I love her," Thomas says, grinning widely as he pushes her back, hands on her shoulders, examining her face without meeting her eyes. "You're perfect."
She can't help it; she blushes.
"You're incorrigible," Murphy says.
"We're going to be best friends," Thomas says. Margaret thinks he's a little bit insane, but she looks at his face and can't make out anything except a wild happiness and some relief, and she thinks: well, there's a story behind this all, isn't there...
It's nightfall in Vegas, and he whirls around to Murphy, almost dancing with glee. "Let's go to dinner," he says.
----- She likes Thomas; partly because it's obvious that he really likes her. But as the night wears on, he becomes a little more sober and closed-off. Murphy plays with her drink, looking mildly amused and unhappy at the same time, frowning whenever Thomas's narrative crosses some invisible line. Several times she cuts in sharply.
"What? I can't even tell her about Luccio?" he says. "She's harmless!"
Murphy twitches a little.
"As in, she never tried to kill Harry intentionally," Thomas says, rolling his eyes. "You might want to give her a call," he adds.
"That depends on who dumped whom," she says. "I mean, I don't want to make her uncomfortable. Um."
"I rather think she dumped him," he says lightly. "It was all a little complicated, near the end. I... Murphy has her number, you could give her a call."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Murphy says. She's been saying that a lot, tonight.
"She'll talk to you," Thomas says to her. "She won't be able to give you any details I can't- I know more about him- but she was the one who was close to him, near the end. I, uh, lost touch with him. Two years, before. You know. He became Knight."
"I-" she starts, and then says yes.
When she says goodbye to Thomas, he gives her a jagged, pained smile and kisses her on the forehead. "Don't call me," he whispers into her ear. "Karrin brought you this once, and that was okay, but now- never call me again, you hear? I'm so sorry. I'll contact you again when you're old enough to protect yourself."
Maggie takes the slip of paper from his perfect hands and can't believe that this is the only thing that he's getting out of this.
"I'd- oh hell, I'd give you my pentacle, but it's-" Thomas's laugh is dark. "Not an option. So. This is- goodbye?"
It is.
-- Luccio is a sweet-faced young woman with light brown hair and placid features. Maggie's first impression of her is don't point that sword at me please.
"You're serious," she says flatly. "You're Dresden's daughter."
"Margaret," she answers, looking coldly back. She doesn't appreciate being held at swordpoint, and is doing her damnedest to conceal her fear. "Margaret Dresden. I came here under the assumption that I would be met with something other than steel."
She takes a closer look at Luccio's eyes. They're... like stones, actually. Maggie doesn't like her much at first.
Luccio doesn't invite her in. Maggie knows she hasn't come into her power completely, but there's a sizable chunk of energy she leaves at the doorway that feels like a weak punch in the gut. She scowls, not mollified even at the cup of cocoa she's offered.
She takes a look around while Luccio reclines in her seat. The house is large but empty. The furnishings are old but impersonal. The only thing that looks new is the sword over the fireplace. A woman with only her duty in her life. Maggie feels sorry for her.
"Did you love my dad?" she asks.
"Big punches first, child?" Luccio says. "No. I was not. Were you informed of the situation?"
"There was... chaos in the Council," Maggie ventures, when it becomes apparent that it is not a rhetorical question. "A breakdown in the chain of command... mind control over the Wardens?" The last one is actually a guess.
"Your father was very kind about it," Luccio says, and Maggie can hear something hateful in her voice. "He was... a good man. How much do you know?"
"My... someone told me he became the Winter Knight," Maggie says. "And I've heard plenty of stories... what he was like. I don't need those from you. I just want to know what he was like near the end."
The woman's smile is actually quite kind this time. "I-" she starts, and then laughs. "Oh dear. I suppose it doesn't matter now- he's out of power. Hidden away somewhere."
"My dad?" Maggie's suddenly on alert.
"Not him." Luccio's suddenly very interested in her cup. "What- tell me what you know about him."
Maggie's tired from her flight, and she has another one to get back home to her dad before he gets mad or suspicious, but she finds the energy to talk the next two hours away. Some of it seems new to Luccio, there's a ragged, pained tenderness on her face as she listens to some of the stories.
"Oh- he would," she might say, pouring a new cup of tea. "My goodness, no wonder he never told me. A barbarian? Really?"
"I wasn't completely not in love," Luccio says, four hours later. Maggie's eyes are almost shut, but the next words jolt her out of sleep. "But- oh, it can't do any harm. Have you heard of John Marcone?"
Maggie stays still. It's a good move, because she senses something strange here, something that must be maneuvered carefully. She knows by instinct the exact careless tone in which to say, "Oh- he was some politico, wasn't he? Maybe a decade ago? I read about him in papers sometimes."
Luccio smiles. "That's him. I just want you to know that- near the end- he was happy. I'm not sure anyone else was close enough to him at the time to know this- people were jumping ship like rats- but... I'm not saying you search for him, but John Marcone might even answer some of your questions, if you can get the answers out of him. He was a stubborn bastard."
Maggie doesn't move.
"They were in love," Luccio says quietly. "And that- made it easy, to leave him. I don't know what Karrin Murphy told you, but I never left him because I was a cold heartless bitch, or because I never felt anything for him at all. It was the telepathic control, yes, but also- he was so happy. And let me tell you, it was devastating to see it all taken away. He left everything behind, you know."
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timeasmymeasure
Terrible Fill 1/2
Date: 2011-03-07 02:08 pm (UTC)"So tell me," the girl says, tilting her head up at them. "Tell me everything. You have to."
Michael Carpenter pours her a glass of juice. Over a decade has passed since... since. But he can still remember Harry's face, its sharp angles and pallor and the dark bold eyes. The girl resembles him so much it's painful.
Oh, not the precise features. But the expression. The obstinacy. The same anger, although Harry carried a great more with him, and it always showed.
"He was a good man," he answers honestly. Maggie's- she told him that she was Margaret Dresden when she met him at the door, but Michael could help but think of her as Maggie- eyes narrow, and her impatience with him is palpable. The same temper. Michael hides his smile. "I'm sorry- what do you mean by 'everything'? If you ask me, I'll try to answer."
"Will you?" she says. Or seethes. She's intense.
"I'll try to try?" he offers, and has the pleasure of seeing her smile. Just a little, but it's good to see. "Things were... complicated. Please. Ask. I'll try to help you out."
"Is he still alive?"
Such a simple question. Michael answers honestly, as usual. "I do not know." For sure. Almost certainly the Winter Knight was still on the move- he would have heard otherwise- but, ah, there was always a margin of doubt, yes? And it would be... dangerous. If she tried to find out more. "He disappeared."
"What happened to me?"
"I wasn't there."
"So something did happen."
Michael sighs. Some things had to give. "Yes, it did. I don't know the specifics. He saved your life."
"Who's my mom?" she asks, and when he hesitates she snaps, "You said you'd try!"
"I'm trying!" Michael raises his hands, and smiles at him apologetically. No, there would be no danger in telling her about a woman named Susan Rodriguez. She almost certainly had no living relatives. Her liaison with Harry Dresden had been a relatively short one. But about Harry himself, he would- no, he could- say nothing. He should not. The last thing he wanted to happen to Harry was seeing what he'd lost.
Or the other way around, he reminded himself. The last thing he wanted for Maggie was to let her see what her father had become.
--
Billy Borden does not offer her juice.
"Fuuuuck," he says when she introduced herself. "Fucking hell."
He is not tall, but Margaret is not tall for her age, either, and she has to tilt her head nonetheless. "Well, you didn't get his height, did you?" he finally says, holding open the door. She slips in.
He gives her a beer, and calls down a tall woman. They both blink at her for a minute before sitting down. Margaret starts to talk, but he holds a hand up, and gulps down two cans before finally staring at her in the eye.
"Do I look like him?" Margaret asks.
"Hell no," he says instantly, at the same time his wife vehemently says "Oh yes." They look at each other.
"I mean, her eyes." Georgia says.
"She looks like Susan."
"No, I mean, unfocus your eyes a bit," Georgia says. "Hey kid, stick out your chin a bit and try to look obstinately heroic."
Margaret hides a smile. Billy breaks out into laughter- genuine, if a bit hysterical. "Jesus," he says. "I can't believe I'm meeting you."
She tries her beer. Her dad never lets her have any. It's not bitter, but it's not to her liking, either. It tastes a bit weak. She sets it down.
"Where have you been?" Georgia asks, and Margaret blinks at the question. She's supposed to be the one with questions, it throws her a bit off track. "I mean, where- where did you go?" she adds, when Margaret doesn't look away. "We never, uh, found out."
"We know your dad got you somewhere safe," Billy adds, "But we never found out. Um."
There's a small silence.
"I lived near here," Margaret says, and that's the end of it. They don't want to know more; she asks why.
"Hell," Billy laughs. "If someone comes here and tries to ask for you to get leverage against your dad, I don't want to be the one to-"
"Will," Georgia says, laughter gone from her voice, and she elbows him hard in the ribs. He yelps.
Margaret knows that they find her sudden alertness disconcerting. They're werewolves, she knows, and she finds a familiar wariness from their quarter. They stare at each other.
"So he's alive," she says softly.
"It's not like she wasn't going to find out," Billy says, rubbing his side.
Georgia rolls her eyes. "Jesus."
"Where is he? What happened to him? What does he do?" she raps out, and watches them carefully consider her questions. She can tell that they don't want to lie to her, it's obvious in the twist of Georgia's lips as she stares at Maggie's face, Billy Borden's frown, their hands knotting and twisting in their laps.
"Neither of us knows where he is. We don't know what he does," Billy says, at last, carefully.
"Fuck you." Margaret says, impatience finally boiling up. "Tell me! It's not like I'm going to chase after him and get myself in danger! I know about this sort of thing, okay? I just want to fucking know!"
"He always played the barbarian in our D&D games," he says.
She crosses her arms.
"I... we're not the best people to talk to you about this," Billy tries again at last."You'd better talk to Karrin."
---
She recognizes the girl at once.
She's wearing jeans and a white blouse, and a loose jacket on top of that. She might as well be just another girl, coming in with a complaint, or a newbie's girlfriend, inattentive to the STAFF ONLY signs on the doors, but something jerks her eyes up to the girl's dark hair and a flash of a thin, delicate nose and a strong jaw. She's aware of setting her papers down and staring hard, trying to get a better glimpse; but she doesn't need to. Magnetically, the girl's head turns, and their eyes meet, like in some bad movie, across the room.
"Lieutenant Murphy?" the girl calls, and the room hushes for a moment- not because of the words, but because the voice is clear and carrying and authoritative. The kind of voice that makes people shut up, because it says: listen to me. This is important.
Karrin clears her throat. "Sergeant," she says, an old scar, and she experimentally brushes it with a thought to see if it hurts.
It does not. In the face of the girl she gave up her career for, it no longer seems to matter, Sergeant or Lieutenant or goddamn Chief, all those stupid shallow things that will never equal the shine of her blade or the spreading smile on Maggie Dresden's face.
"Sergeant Murphy," she repeats, and the girl walks closer. She drinks in her features, the clean tan skin, the eyes, the cheekbones. "Let's go for a drink."
Murphy buys her coffee and a slice of light chocolate mousse. The girl smiles irresistibly; she is adorable. "You're sixteen now?" Murphy asks.
"Seventeen," she insists.
"...This June," she admits.
Murphy smiles.
"You, er. You're a Knight of the Cross," Maggie says. "Why- um, no offense, why are you-"
"I got into some trouble a few years ago," Murphy says. "I- was offered a new job. I took it. But I didn't leave my old one."
Maggie looks troubled. It's the same expression Harry used to wear when she was talking about her crappy job. That she'd never leave, but, yes. "I- that trouble- it was because of me?"
She can see it's a shot in the dark. The girl knows almost nothing. But she doesn't want to lie, so she snakes out her fork and steals a bit of the cake before she answers: yes.
"I have nightmares," the girl confesses. "There's- fire, I think, and..."
Murphy clears her throat. "You came to ask about your father. Will gave me a heads up, but I was expecting you a week earlier."
"What- oh, yeah." Maggie shrugs. "I had this internship thing."
Which revives Murphy's curiosity about where this girl went, precisely- Dresden handed her off to someone after they came back, but she doesn't know whom to. But she doesn't want to endanger anyone.
"He fought monsters," Murphy says.
Her eyes shine.
Murphy tells her more.
----
They fly to Vegas the very next day; Maggie fobs off her dad with some excuse about a sleepover, and Murphy takes some long overdue leave. Maggie pays for her ticket.
"Is he dangerous?" she asks.
"White Court." Murphy answers. "Done your reading?"
She has.
She's still not prepared to meet Thomas Raith, whose grin disarms her almost instantly. She nearly reels. "Stop that." she gasps.
"Not something I can really help," he says, with an apologetic, liquid shrug that makes her imagine things she didn't even know. Then he blinks. "Karrin. You brought-"
"She seems fairly responsible," she says. "Use your discretion. She wants to know about Harry."
His mouth is open. "You have- wow. Hi. Um."
She folds her arms, and he suddenly bursts out into laughter. "Oh god, you have the same- way of- looking-"
He's howling in the parking lot, hysterically amused, and Murphy kicks him lightly in the ribs. "I'm sorry." he says, not sounding sorry at all. "Oh my god. Where did you go?"
"I live with my dad," she mutters.
"I'm not even going to ask," he giggles, and then unexpectedly pulls her close and kisses her on the cheek. She's too surprised to stiffen. "You know you're my niece?"
"Thomas!" Murphy says, sounding shocked.
"I love her," Thomas says, grinning widely as he pushes her back, hands on her shoulders, examining her face without meeting her eyes. "You're perfect."
She can't help it; she blushes.
"You're incorrigible," Murphy says.
"We're going to be best friends," Thomas says. Margaret thinks he's a little bit insane, but she looks at his face and can't make out anything except a wild happiness and some relief, and she thinks: well, there's a story behind this all, isn't there...
It's nightfall in Vegas, and he whirls around to Murphy, almost dancing with glee. "Let's go to dinner," he says.
-----
She likes Thomas; partly because it's obvious that he really likes her. But as the night wears on, he becomes a little more sober and closed-off. Murphy plays with her drink, looking mildly amused and unhappy at the same time, frowning whenever Thomas's narrative crosses some invisible line. Several times she cuts in sharply.
"What? I can't even tell her about Luccio?" he says. "She's harmless!"
Murphy twitches a little.
"As in, she never tried to kill Harry intentionally," Thomas says, rolling his eyes. "You might want to give her a call," he adds.
"That depends on who dumped whom," she says. "I mean, I don't want to make her uncomfortable. Um."
"I rather think she dumped him," he says lightly. "It was all a little complicated, near the end. I... Murphy has her number, you could give her a call."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Murphy says. She's been saying that a lot, tonight.
"She'll talk to you," Thomas says to her. "She won't be able to give you any details I can't- I know more about him- but she was the one who was close to him, near the end. I, uh, lost touch with him. Two years, before. You know. He became Knight."
"I-" she starts, and then says yes.
When she says goodbye to Thomas, he gives her a jagged, pained smile and kisses her on the forehead. "Don't call me," he whispers into her ear. "Karrin brought you this once, and that was okay, but now- never call me again, you hear? I'm so sorry. I'll contact you again when you're old enough to protect yourself."
Maggie takes the slip of paper from his perfect hands and can't believe that this is the only thing that he's getting out of this.
"I'd- oh hell, I'd give you my pentacle, but it's-" Thomas's laugh is dark. "Not an option. So. This is- goodbye?"
It is.
--
Luccio is a sweet-faced young woman with light brown hair and placid features. Maggie's first impression of her is don't point that sword at me please.
"You're serious," she says flatly. "You're Dresden's daughter."
"Margaret," she answers, looking coldly back. She doesn't appreciate being held at swordpoint, and is doing her damnedest to conceal her fear. "Margaret Dresden. I came here under the assumption that I would be met with something other than steel."
She takes a closer look at Luccio's eyes. They're... like stones, actually. Maggie doesn't like her much at first.
Luccio doesn't invite her in. Maggie knows she hasn't come into her power completely, but there's a sizable chunk of energy she leaves at the doorway that feels like a weak punch in the gut. She scowls, not mollified even at the cup of cocoa she's offered.
She takes a look around while Luccio reclines in her seat. The house is large but empty. The furnishings are old but impersonal. The only thing that looks new is the sword over the fireplace. A woman with only her duty in her life. Maggie feels sorry for her.
"Did you love my dad?" she asks.
"Big punches first, child?" Luccio says. "No. I was not. Were you informed of the situation?"
"There was... chaos in the Council," Maggie ventures, when it becomes apparent that it is not a rhetorical question. "A breakdown in the chain of command... mind control over the Wardens?" The last one is actually a guess.
"Your father was very kind about it," Luccio says, and Maggie can hear something hateful in her voice. "He was... a good man. How much do you know?"
"My... someone told me he became the Winter Knight," Maggie says. "And I've heard plenty of stories... what he was like. I don't need those from you. I just want to know what he was like near the end."
The woman's smile is actually quite kind this time. "I-" she starts, and then laughs. "Oh dear. I suppose it doesn't matter now- he's out of power. Hidden away somewhere."
"My dad?" Maggie's suddenly on alert.
"Not him." Luccio's suddenly very interested in her cup. "What- tell me what you know about him."
Maggie's tired from her flight, and she has another one to get back home to her dad before he gets mad or suspicious, but she finds the energy to talk the next two hours away. Some of it seems new to Luccio, there's a ragged, pained tenderness on her face as she listens to some of the stories.
"Oh- he would," she might say, pouring a new cup of tea. "My goodness, no wonder he never told me. A barbarian? Really?"
"I wasn't completely not in love," Luccio says, four hours later. Maggie's eyes are almost shut, but the next words jolt her out of sleep. "But- oh, it can't do any harm. Have you heard of John Marcone?"
Maggie stays still. It's a good move, because she senses something strange here, something that must be maneuvered carefully. She knows by instinct the exact careless tone in which to say, "Oh- he was some politico, wasn't he? Maybe a decade ago? I read about him in papers sometimes."
Luccio smiles. "That's him. I just want you to know that- near the end- he was happy. I'm not sure anyone else was close enough to him at the time to know this- people were jumping ship like rats- but... I'm not saying you search for him, but John Marcone might even answer some of your questions, if you can get the answers out of him. He was a stubborn bastard."
Maggie doesn't move.
"They were in love," Luccio says quietly. "And that- made it easy, to leave him. I don't know what Karrin Murphy told you, but I never left him because I was a cold heartless bitch, or because I never felt anything for him at all. It was the telepathic control, yes, but also- he was so happy. And let me tell you, it was devastating to see it all taken away. He left everything behind, you know."