Title: Keep Her, Day 20 of 30 Days of Hannibloom
Fandom: Hannibal
Pairing: Hannibloom
Rating: pg-13
Author's notes: Blame charlotteof_denmark, because this was her prompt. Or blame my muse! Just not me! Still, I hope you all like this saccharine chapter.

For their last day in Spain, Hannibal planned to give them a tour of some of the places in Santiago de Compostela they had not yet seen. They started with the Museo das Peregrinacións. Their tour guide was a scholarly looking young man who explained the history of the pilgrims and of the pilgrimage on the way of St. James to Santiago de Compostela. Alana listened attentively as he showed them the museum exhibits. She was particularly fascinated by all of the statues of the pilgrims throughout the ages; she could almost hear the dedication and faith of the pilgrims as she gazed at the artwork.

Their next stop was the cathedral. The sun was high in the sky as they walked through the plaza to their destination. "We've seen the cathedral, but today we're going to see the botafumeiro used during the mass," Hannibal told her.

Alana turned her head and raised her eyebrow in question. Hannibal answered her unspoken question. "The botafumeiro is a thurible…" he smiled when she shook her head in confusion. He loved playing the role of educator to her student still. "It's a large metal container for the burning of incense, my dear. I requested its showing for you; normally, it is only used during saint years at daily mass."

She wondered what strings he'd had to pull to make that happen. "Thank you. This trip has been simply magnificent."

He took her hand in his and ran his fingers along her palm. She shivered as she felt a blaze of warmth along her spine. She was still amazed that he had such a physical effect on her. She'd felt the chemistry, the spark, between them before they started their intimate relationship. But since then, the spark had grown into a blaze. Every touch sent burning heat through her body. And just being near him was enough for her to feel warm all over. She'd never experienced such an effect before; in previous relationships, the flame tended to sizzle and die over time. Her flame with Hannibal only grew brighter with each passing day.

They entered the cathedral and took a seat in a pew halfway to the front. She sat silently, letting the gorgeous yet faintly haunting sound of the organ's music wash over her. She gasped as the botafumeiro swung, trailing smoke in its wake. Hannibal took her hand in his and smiled. She watched him as he watched the mass, enraptured. She loved his passion. Just one more thing to love about him.

When the mass finished, they filed out with the other worshipers and tourists. They stood in the plaza, taking in the sights and sounds around them. There was a light wind. Alana tilted her head back and let the breeze blow through her hair. Then Alana looked around the plaza. Pigeons pecked at unseen crumbs on the ground. Tourists, locals, and pilgrims all milled around the square, talking. Then she noticed a lovely sight.

There was a woman, splendid in all white. She seemed to shine with happiness. This bride stood next to her groom, who couldn't stop touching his new wife. His touches were not scandalous; he simply kept a hand on her arm, her back, her cheek, touching her as if he simply couldn't stand being even an inch apart from her.

Alana smiled as she watched the couple pose for their photographer. Hannibal followed her gaze and saw what so pleased her.

"You desire to be married, Alana," he stated.

She turned to Hannibal, tearing her gaze from the happy couple. "Yes?" she said her answer as a question, wondering where Hannibal was going with his statement.

"Is that a question, Ms. Bloom, or a statement?"

She laughed, remembering him asking her the same question as a student when she didn't answer definitively. So she responded again with a definitive "Yes, I do want to be married. To you, by the way."

He turned his head away from her, and for a moment, she felt fearful that she had gone too far. She started to apologize for putting her foot in her mouth when he said, "I may be able to arrange that."

It took Alana a life-changing moment to comprehend what he had just said to her. Then she could feel her smile stretching her cheeks. She'd never felt so happy in her life. Her heart hammered against her ribcage as she asked, " Did you just propose to me, Dr. Lecter?"

He turned to her and she saw that he wore an uncharacteristically big, boyish smile on his face. "I suppose I did." Then he leaned in and kissed her, dipping her backward in his passion as he kissed her in that beautiful Spanish plaza.

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When they returned home, he arranged a private ceremony at a small church in Baltimore for one month later. The groom wore a blue and red plaid sport coat over a white dress shirt. The bride wore a red lace sheath dress (his favorite color on her). She had tiny red roses pinned in her curls. Hannibal and Alana exchanged vows in front of no one but a priest. Their wedding was intimate, classy, unique, and private, just like they were as a couple.

When they made love later that evening, a slightly drunk Alana couldn't stop staring at the gold band he now wore on his ring finger. She also kept calling him "husband."

For his part, Hannibal wondered if and more likely, when she'd discover his secret. He didn't plan to stop killing and consuming human flesh just because he was a married man. He knew however, that wives had a way of finding out secrets their husbands kept. So while Alana slept peacefully that night, Hannibal lay awake.

He asked a God he didn't fully believe in if he could keep her. "Let me keep her." He thought of Mischa, stolen from him. He wanted Alana for his keeping. Forever. "Can I keep her?" he asked God.

He didn't get an answer.