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In the loosest sense, the place which was not a place resembled one that now existed just as much.
A home. Worn, old, but home. Comfort. Perhaps not safe, with all it had at its door, but it at least felt like it most of the time. Where friends could meet, family could seek respite and a wizard could play his guitar, the last thing seemingly left from the love of a shadow.
Before it had burned, fire consuming it with an indiscriminate hunger, as one’s own weapon was turned against them.
Comfort. Home. Safety. A place where family could seek respite. It was not a coincidence that this place, which was not a place, resembled what had been lost during a quest to live long enough to save a daughter.
But…only in the loosest sense.
For it had warped. Twisted, bloated out, creaking and leaning away as cracks formed in the very foundations. Shuddering groans under the strain, as if trying not to burst entirely apart at the seems, of an ever mounting pressure. Seeming to pulsate with each breath, each heartbeat, as if those walls were alive. All the while, the terrible frost sept further in, taking root through the cracks, all that was in this room covered by a thickening sheet of it, holding all that threatened to burst out, in a casing of ice. Except for the door. The door, which the ice seemed to attempt to burrow in through, needle sharp points daggering in as someone this way came.
Came to take out what was killing Harry Dresden. Ready for whatever she had to do so that he would not die again. Who had not been told that this “what”, was no parasite.
It was all either on the couch could watch.
“Idiot.” A man clad in dark black sneered, as he glared at the door.
“Why is it that you can’t get across one simple goddamn message, to who it really matters.” Was further snapped with a corrosive bite.
A black blanket swaddled the other figure on the couch, covering her from the bitter biting cold, as any parent would try to protect their child - no matter how weird she was. A just as protective arm laid across her as she lay across his lap, meaning the ID of a father could feel each and every one of her violent shudders. Of pain. Of fear. Just as he could hear the muffled whimper, that followed more ice worming through the door, a fresh gust of arctic wind whitening further everything with it.
“I….I’m sorry…I’m s-s-sorry…I’m-” Small, frail words, struggled to get out, past clattering teeth.
And the darkly-dressed man’s gaze softened.
“Kid, you have nothing to apologise for.” Was spoken with a firmness, that somehow managed to sound gentle.
“It-t-t…it’s me…I…my fault…I feel- it feels like I’m going to burst. It-t-t…” A whimper, as the bundle curled in even smaller, so very small, tiny, vulnerable, amidst this all.
“I know, I know it hurts. But you’re being braver than most kid. I just wish you didn’t have to be.” Was spoken softly, sadly, as the grip of the man’s arm protectively tightened around the little girl.
If that moron, the one that was meant to be the brain, hadn’t been such a colossal idiot, then-
Splinters of wood fractured from the walls, the floor, the groans coalescing into an almost scream, as they shuddered into another aborted gesture outwards. The sound of shattering ice, as a larger chunk that there had been yet was carved away from the door. A so very gentle job was what was being done, in reality. Like hands ghosting against a fragile web. It had to be, to not tear apart the very psyche of the man that Molly was trying to save, but it was no less frightening to the small spirit - who let off a weak yelp, at someone carving their way in.
“Is sh-sh-she…g-going to…to… stop me…”
This time it was something else that surged within the ID, of a man who had committed a genocide to save his physical child.
“ No. ” Was said with that same conviction.
For an ID was not a complicated thing. It was by nature, the very base of a person. Instincts. What one would be reduced to, when it came right down to fight, flight or freeze.
And one of those instincts, the sole one driving the dark-dressed man right now, was as simple as it was entirely all-encompassing. As unshakeable, as the very need for his body to breathe and his brain’s insistence on getting them into situations that would stop that.
Protect the offspring.
“Just because he’s been an idiot, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’ll tell her. She’ll help you, get you out of here, get you somewhere good. You won’t have to hurt anymore. He’ll take care of you when you’re out, even if he hasn’t done a bang up job of it so far.”
An uncertain pause, from the spirit of intellect.
“He’s not as clever as me, but you’ll get to speak with him. Like you wanted to. Won’t that be nice?” So he continued on.
A little nod at that, as much as the frozen girl could manage to move her head.
“R-really?"
“Yeah, hell’s bells, you won’t be able to shut him up.”
A small, shaky giggle, in response to that.
And with the warm gaze of this part of Dresden looking down upon her, you would have thought that was one of the most wonderful sounds there ever was. To him, it was. The only regret to it, that he hadn’t gotten to hear Maggie like that yet.
There wasn’t much time left now, he knew, even without looking at the door. So with so, so very gentle arms, that of holding something in equal measure unimaginably precious as it were fragile, his other arm also wrapped around her. Guiding her into the position of sitting upright. Pivoting himself so as to be able to face her.
Innocent, wide eyes looked at him, with the same crystalline blue-green of the other half of who made her. Each and every frost-bitten feature of her face was that of someone who had been important to Harry Dresden. But right here, right now, he only saw the little girl. The little girl made from him and a shadow called Lash, as he carefully carded a hand through hair that was the colour of his. A soothing, repetitive gesture, that somehow managed to avoid tugging at the ice which clung to every strand.
“Will…will you st-stay…please…” Pleading, uncertain eyes, of a little girl who had so much happen to her despite not having even been born yet.
“I’ll have you the entire time kid, I promise.” The last word stressed more than any other.
It was not until she nodded back, that he carefully picked her up. Cradling her gently in his arms, as he stood up, turning a firm, protective gaze towards the brittle remains of a door.
He almost could've missed, from the faintest, tiny voice-
“I’ll miss you.”
And as he looked back to his youngest daughter, it was with the sort of grin that had drawn the immense ire of many a monster, jerk and both of the above before.
“What are you talking about kid? I’ll still be right there with the other me. Just means when you get out there and he gives you a real name, your name, I’ll have something to call you.”
But with that little daughter, it was a feeble smile on her own face that came in response.
It was to that scene, the scene of a father and child’s love for each other, that the Winter Lady broke through the door.