Hello everyone! Hannibal, as we all know, is now on he-ate-us (I LOVE cannibal puns XD) so I tried to ease the pain by continuing this ff :) hope u like it!
As always, reviews and critics are much much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla.

Enjoy :D

"Is this your happy face?"

Will heard a low laugh, coming from the man riding next to him, their bodies following the horses' pace. He then glanced at the long-haired man who had spoken and felt a grin creeping up on his face, not being able to contain it, recognizing this was not the time to be frowning but to rejoice, their long-awaited freedom waiting for them just around the corner.

"Galahad, do you still not know the Romans? They won't scratch their arses without holding a ceremony" the man continued, his blond beard and long messy hair shining in the afternoon sun, the shadow of a mocking grin on his lips. Will recognized that name as his, Galahad, and understood that that joke was directed at him, to keep up the good mood. He knew the man, it felt like he knew him, a brotherly-like feeling lingering in the way they acted and spoke to each other.

"Why don't you kill him, and then discharge yourself after?" The rugged and hirsute man spoke to him, seriously considering his own suggestion. His voice seemed to resound inside his chunky body, coming out low and thunderous despite his poor height.

"I don't kill for pleasure," Will answered, then glanced at the man now riding on his left "unlike some."

"Well, you should try it someday." This man was lean, his black hair falling over his dark eyes in a few messy locks, two black marks on his cheekbone, his voice silky. "You might get a taste for it." He looked at him in the eyes, locking them together in a long, intimate stare. Will found himself at loss of words, captured as he was.

"It's a part of you." The chunky man inadvertently interrupted their speechless exchange, making Will break their eye-contact, a little taken aback, and allowing the dark mysterious man to ride past them. "It's in your blood" he continued, trying to sound wise.

"No, no, no" Will answered quickly, cutting off the idea before even considering it, laughing briefly. He looked at his companions in the faces, before continuing. "No. As of tomorrow, this was all just a bad memory." And he truly wished so.

"Ohh" his low voice rumbled as Will hurried his horse, making it fasten its pace to join the man with the dark eyes, who was now riding alone behind their leader.

As he caught up, Will slowed the horse down pulling slightly the reins, petting it on the neck before looking at him. This man reminded him of someone, his voice, his eyes weren't knew to him, but he couldn't figure out who. He glanced back at Will, his expression not really revealing what was going on in his mind. Their white horses harmonized their paces as the riders kept looking at each other, not saying a word, while the chatters of the other knights continued in the background. Will finally broke the silence, looking around a little flustered before returning to him.

"Where will you go, Tristan, once it's all over?" he asked, finding it difficult to take his eyes off him.

"I'm not the kind to settle down and make a family" Tristan answered short after, his eyes looking up at the sky. "I am made for battle, it sings to my blood."

"Once you get tired of it, come visit me."

"I will die on the battlefield, of that I am certain."

Will stared hard at him, finding him difficult to decipher. He knew this man found pleasure in killing, his sword and skin getting stained by the enemies' blood, him being the only witness their last breath. He knew it well but couldn't understand it, for he had had enough battle and gore for a lifetime, and couldn't imagine wanting more.

As their horses kept pacing side by side, the two men stayed silent, only exchanging a few glances, their eyes drawing each other. There was something between them, Will could tell, something that kept creeping under his skin, making him feel uneasy in his company, but at the same time wanting to stay close to him. He wondered if the other felt the same, but by his glances there was no mistaking it.

It was strange for Will to feel drawn to a man he barely knew, even if it felt like he had known him forever, like they had shared much more than he could remember. Pondering all this, not knowing what else to say, he hurried his horse, surpassing him. Glancing over his shoulder, Will saw him whistle and stretch his arm out, waiting for his hawk to land. He then heard him talk to it in a low and tender voice, before turning to see how far the gate was. The clatter of the hooves on the dry land was accompanying them as they drove along the wall, it kept buzzing repeatedly in his ears, its noise growing louder and louder…

Will opened his eyes a little, not seeing anything in the dark, disturbed by the constant buzzing in his jacket. Rubbing his eyes, he took the phone out of its pocket and answered.

"Hello?" he said with a rusty voice, finding it hard to concentrate.

"Will? Where are you?"

"Who is this?" The voice on the phone sounded familiar.

"It's Doctor Lecter, Will. We had an appointment."

He sat up, now completely awake, eyeing his alarm clock for the time.

"Doctor Lecter, I am so sorry. I got home after my lecture but fell asleep almost instantly." Will's honest discomfort transpired in his voice, as he was genuinely sorry for having Hannibal waste time in his full-filled agenda.

"Don't mention it, Will. I called simply to make sure you were fine. I heard Jack had been keeping you quite busy lately."

"Yes, yes, he had. But that's no excuse-" he started, trying to apologize again.

"I said not to mention it. But since we haven't seen each other for over a week, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner" Hannibal offered. Will took a moment to collect his thoughts before answering.

"Yeah, sure. If you don't mind having me."

"Certainly I don't. Is nine o'clock a good time for you?" he asked, polite as ever.

"It's perfect, thank you. I'll see you later then."

He threw his phone on the bed as soon as Hannibal hung up after greeting him, and buried his face in his hands, elbows shored on his knees. Was he completely losing it? He could remember some of the men from this dream in his other dream too, the one that had him crying in his sleep. What were those dreams? He had no control over them, there he did things he wasn't even capable of (he had never driven a horse in his life), and spoke of battles and swords and freedom like he knew exactly what it was all about.

Will stood up abruptly, as he figured out whose voice he had heard in his lecture hall in Alana's company: it was the blond-haired man's, the one who addressed him like a brother, like they had known each other for a very long time and were very close. He also knew his name, he had it on the tip of his tongue but couldn't manage to say it out loud. Why couldn't he remember the name of a man he had dreamt? Wasn't he a product of his own subconscious? Will had seen him in the other dream too, the one with the crowd on the hill, with the burning pyre and burial mounds. The chunky one too, he was there with them. However, it was his first time seeing the mysterious dark-haired man. Tristan was his name, he knew it, couldn't say why he knew, he just did.

Will let himself fall again on the mattress, his image still fresh in his mind. He frowned, remembering the attraction he had felt towards him in the dream, the feeling lingering under his skin. His features remembered him of someone he knew, they were familiar and at the same time foreign, the sound of his silky voice still ringing in his ears.

He stood up again, trying to shake it all off him, and switched the lights on. He had to take a shower and get dressed: the analysis of those dreams would have to wait. Will rushed, not giving himself the time to think about anything: he had enough on his mind with his real life problems, he didn't need other strange dreams to be added to the list of the weird things in his life.

As soon as he was done, Will fed the dogs and petted them all before reaching for his car-keys and heading out. A full-hour long drive awaited him, enough time to get sick with his own thoughts.