The Dragon wasn't often surprised, but the recent assassination failure surprised him. His enemy was more cunning than he anticipated. It was clear that this was a mission to be performed personally. The thought of fresh blood on his teeth again made the Dragon shiver with excitement. This failure may not be such a failure afterall.
After the rapid trials of Alana and the Zellers', Will was surprised and unnerved when his head wasn't immediately put on a spike and displayed for the city to see. Instead he'd been thrown in a tower cell and left alone for two days. No one visited; not for food, water, or to even check if he was still alive. During that time he could only pace and contemplate a possible escape. He was less motivated by surviving than by fulfilling his vow to kill Hannibal.
At night, he could hear commotion in the distance. He could never make out what was being shouted, but he didn't doubt his name was being cursed by the peasants. Will swore he could see the glaze of orange light across the sky from his small cell window. Again he wondered why Hannibal hadn't killed him immediately. At this point, his fate was inevitable.
There was that word again, inevitable. Somehow, it must have a different meaning for Hannibal because he had looked betrayed, even heartbroken for lack of a better word. Yet it was impossible that he couldn't have not foreseen Will's murderous actions. Even though he'd put all his effort into pretending, Will doubted that Hannibal hadn't seen through his facade of comradery.
Then Will's pacing slowed. Was it possible that Hannibal hadn't suspected him because he'd chosen not to? He'd purposefully blinded himself? That didn't make sense to Will either, because forcing oneself into that level of delusion requires a high degree of connection and history with the other person. He and Hannibal certainly had history but not the intimate history that breeds affection for another person. If anything, it had bred only animosity.
However, even after dwelling on the question for longer, he continued to reach to the same conclusion over and over. Finally, he'd had enough and forced himself onto a different train of thought as he desperately tried to keep himself occupied until he was summoned for execution. He found himself unconsciously rubbing his neck as he considered the other question hanging over his head: the identity of G.R.D.
He'd initially thought the letters were the initials of an individual, but G.R.D. had entered the castle and Will knew of no one who fit those initials. If the letters were not initials, they'd be nearly impossible to decipher without more context. Furthermore, G.R.D.'s actions implied they had significant funds so they must fit into the nobility class, and that would have certainly given them motive. Yet, besides Tobias, Mason and Chilton, Will could conjure no other nobles rash or driven enough to undermine the king. The thought occurred to Will that perhaps G.R.D. was Freddie, but that didn't seem correct. Killing the king wouldn't benefit her in anyway. That meant Will's biggest clue remained the red seal with the dragon on it. However, from within a cell there was little to nothing he could draw from that.
Will briefly wondered if the reason he hadn't been executed yet was because G.R.D. had killed the king. The thought that someone else had succeeded in killing Hannibal made Will nauseous. He wondered if he'd still be executed if someone else had killed the king soon afterwards; He figured most probably yes.
He froze when he heard the lock down the hallway click open. He choked down his fear at the prospect of his imminent demise. When he recognized the footsteps, his fear turned to enmity. Will turned to face the back wall, not even wanting to look at Hannibal or see the smug grin on his face at Will's helpless position.
"Hannibal," Will said, having long ago abandoned hiding the animosity he felt. "Come to gloat at finally having me where you want me? You must take great pride in knowing your enemy will soon be disposed of."
There was remorseful silence from Hannibal's side. Will wondered if he had imagined the footsteps, but then Hannibal spoke.
"Surely you don't consider us enemies?" Hannibal said. "I did not lie when I said we were friends."
Will scoffed at this, which compelled Hannibal to continue.
"I put my full trust into you, and fully acknowledge the affection I feel towards you," Hannibal said. Will could picture how Hannibal must be twisting his eyes to appear innocent while saying this. "And surely you cannot deny that you had shown me affection in return and entrusted me with the full knowledge of your past. We both know that neither of those were fully fabricated."
"A good deception requires the sacrifice of some truth," Will said, while inwardly contemplating his past mindsets.
"Perhaps," Hannibal said. "But you've killed men for me. And I've killed men for you. Deception as a motivation crumbles when met with a matter as grave as death."
Will struggled to find an argument to repudiate Hannibal, but was at a loss. Instead, he questioned his own motivation for killing Randall Tier. Still, he faced the wall and kept his expressions out of Hannibal's sight. It didn't matter much though because Hannibal still seemed able to easily read his thoughts.
"We've already paid each other with death," Hannibal said. "I think you'll agree that taking each other's lives is too much payment for an easily overlooked debt."
"And what debt is that?" Will asked.
"Infusing life with interest," Hannibal said. "It is clear we are equally paired individuals that find engagement, and dare I say, pleasure in each other's company. You were wasting away from boredom before the Ripper."
"That implies that you in turn were wasting away from boredom before I began hunting you," Will said. Hannibal's silence shocked him into almost turning around. After comprehending what Hannibal was saying he asked, "So you propose we forget about my attempt to kill you? We may be able to move on but I highly doubt that the rest of London will agree with you."
"The only thing the people enjoy more than seeing a witch burned is a sinner reformed," Hannibal said, making Will laugh.
"Our relationship is far from the epitome of virtuous but I suppose the trick is less about what it is and more what is presented to the people," Will paused, suddenly reviewing Hannibal's words. He dared himself to peek over his shoulder to make eye contact with Hannibal for the first time. Will could see that even this small gesture of acknowledgement thrilled Hannibal. "And what if I say no to your offer?"
"The city has apparently taken up the cry of witchcraft. If I cannot reform you, I have no other option but to please the citizens and burn you at the stake," Hannibal said, the sadness in his voice sounding genuine.
Will didn't respond to him, and once again turned to face the wall. He allowed the silence to grow heavy between them, until Hannibal broke it.
"I've brought you food and a change of clothes," Hannibal said. "I hope you will consider your options."
Hannibal gingerly left the clothes and food on the floor in front of the cell, and when it was apparent that Will would not say anymore, he left down the hallway. Will could barely keep himself restrained until Hannibal left, but as soon as he heard the latch lock back into place he fell upon the food. It hadn't even occurred to him how hungry he was until he was reminded of food and drink. After he finished the food, he reached for the clothes.
As he pulled them into the cell, he heard a small jingling noise. He blinked in confusion at the small set of silver keys lying on the cold stone floors. His fingers snatched the cold metal and upon further inspection determined that it fit into the keyhole of his cell. He couldn't believe that Hannibal would be that foolish. This must be Hannibal's show of absolute trust in Will, trust not to run away. Will stood, quickly wondering about the possibility of somehow finding where Beverly, Zeller and Price had escaped to, but then he paused. He gripped the key tightly, realizing as Hannibal must have, that'd he'd inevitably return to the castle.
His ran his hands through his hair, silently cursing himself for not having more willpower. He looked down at the clothes Hannibal had left him and noticed that they were all black, and he'd included a cloak. That confirmed his intentions. Hannibal had given him everything he needed, except a sword and the cover of night. As he watched the sun set in a crisp crimson hue, Will knew he would have both of those soon enough.
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