As Will lay in his chamber, shivering beneath the weight of woolen blankets, he could feel the relentless grip of Winter's Fever tightening its hold on his feeble frame. The flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows across the room, accentuating the dimness that enveloped Will like a shroud.
"Have him rest and we'll keep an eye on him. If he does not improve by morning, we will try out some other solutions," Chilton had said and Will shuttered to think of what those solutions would entail when medical knowledge was but a flicker of hope in the darkness of ignorance, and he was at the mercy of the cruel ailment.
The bitter cold seemed to penetrate his very bones, leaving him with a never-ending chill that refused to abate. Each breath was a laborious task, a raspy struggle that echoed through the room like a mournful lament. His chest felt as though it were encased in iron, every inhalation a painful reminder of the fluid that had taken residence within him. Coughing fits wracked his body, each one sending a searing pain coursing through his chest.
The room itself appeared to warp and waver before his fevered eyes, the very walls seeming to close in on him as the sickness gnawed at his senses. Shadows danced upon the walls, and he swore he could hear whispers carried by the wind outside, as if the very spirits of the long-departed were beckoning him into their world.
And for all Will knew, they could have been. Mischa was the only constant. She sat at the foot of his bed; nose buried deep in the pages of Utopia. Her eyes would flicker up from time to time as if checking on Will to make sure he was still living and he prayed that the cruel and capricious master that illness was, would show him mercy. That his strength held out long enough to escape the clutches of the fever.
Will shifted in his bed. The place that was once for rest and solace had become a prison for his aching limbs and discomfort. Every toss and turn sent a jolt of agony through his body and the sweat drenched sheets clung to his skin in a suffocatingly vice grip.
Sleep stayed an elusive refuge just beyond his grasp, a tantalizing mirage that teased him with its distant promise. His eyes burned with it.
A frozen chill raced through him, and he jumped with a gasp. Perhaps he had found sleep, though he couldn't remember having surrendered to it. He blinked through the candlelight and found hands pressing a damp cloth to his flushed skin.
"Everything is alright," a soft voice called to him. He knew the voice, but he couldn't place it. His vision was far too blurry for him to find a face in the dark. The damp cloth continued to press against his skin until it pulled away and Will could hear it being dipped into more water and rung out. The coolness was refreshing and helped pull the burn from his skin. "We need to discuss some things."
Will tried to push himself up but a hand took his shoulder, and his body didn't need much more convincing to fall back into the mattress. At the edge of the bed Mischa was looking up from her book and watching him curiously.
"If you weren't so ill, I would have screamed at you." Will knew that voice. Why couldn't he place it? "You just signed both of our lives away without a second thought."
Will's mind struggled with what was being said to him and when he finally was able to connect all the pieces a face came to his mind. "Margot?" Will did his best to focus on her blurry face, but the darkness did not aid him. "How did you get in?"
"Your guards allowed me in." There was a deep sigh and Will gasped as the cloth was placed to his chest that was suddenly bare. He couldn't remember his shirt being pulled from him. Everything was swirling into one another. "I would suggest informing them of a strict list of people who are not allowed to enter."
"Your father and brother are the ones I am concerned about."
The sensation of constriction gripped Will's chest as though invisible hands were clenching his lungs, squeezing out the precious air he so desperately needed. An uncontrollable explosion of coughs tore through him like a violent storm. Each convulsion felt like a battering ram against his fragile ribs, jarring him to his core.
The burn of his throat stung with the intensity of a thousand wildfires, every cough sending fiery speakers of pain through his chest. Tears welled in his eyes as he gasped for air between the fits. The room around him spun, reduced to more of a hazy blur.
When they subsided and Will collapsed back against the pillows, his breaths were labored and shallow, a symphony of wheezes and rasps. The illness sat bitter in his mouth, a metallic tang seeping into all his pores.
"Here," Margot said, holding something out to Will. A steaming cup and a pastille. Will took them, sniffing at the cup to find the bitter scent of hot wine greeting him. As much as he disliked the smell, it did help clear up his nose slightly. "Take that. It should help with your cough."
"What is it?" Will asked through the rigidness of his throat.
"A poppy pastille. It has things like roses and liquorice in it. My grandmother used to make us take them when we were sick. She taught me to make them. It really does help."
"And the wine?"
"Old family secret," Margot whispered, though there was a slight smile to her voice that did not translate to her face. "Make sure you finish it."
Will hesitated, but anything was better than continuing to expel a lung. He took the pastille with the wine, wincing as it went down. The bitterness made his gag, but once it was fully taken, Margot took the cup from him and placed it aside. Her hands went back to blotting his face with the damp cloth when Will had settled back down.
"Why did you say yes?" Margot gave a large sigh that deflated her mouth into a frown. "We could have refused."
"And let a war start?" Will asked, letting his eyes close and enjoying the way his skin was starting to not feel quite so tight. "This very well could have been the only viable option. I was not present for the meetings."
"Won't you be king? You could put a stop to the fighting."
"My father is not showing any signs of fatigue or illness. I do not see him passing away in the foreseeable future. And even if I were, I doubt your brother would stand for such peace."
"My brother." Margot's words were thoughtful in her agreement. "Then you know of my father's illness."
"I assumed as much after seeing the blood in his handkerchief."
The cloth was pulled from Will and placed back in the bowl that held the water in it. Margot set the bowl aside and then hid her head in her hands.
"I do not want to marry you."
"Nor I you."
Will gave her a smile when she peeked through her fingers at him. Dread still lined her eyes and Will knew he had to fix this. Even if every shred of him was telling him to write a note to Hannibal and have James or Brian give it to the man, begging to be taken away from here, he had to stay. He knew his place. Knew what was expected of him. His life was not his own. It was his people's and he had to do what was best for them.
"But it would save you from them, wouldn't it? I don't know exactly what Mason does to you, but I know that whatever it is, is far worse than what he did to me. So, let me offer the safety of my home to you. If we wed, then you will never have to see them again if you so wish. I will see to it as your husband and your king."
"Even so, how do you propose we go about this? I will not be able to give you anything more than distant friendship. Once an heir is born-"
"Have I asked for anything from you?" Will questioned softly, reaching a handout to gently take one of hers. She shook her head. "Then why would I ask for more than what you are offering? I personally do not care if an heir is produced. The throne can go to my cousin."
"You would give it up?"
"I have never wanted it and once I am dead it won't matter who takes it next. All that matters is what I was able to do with it while it was in my hands and that I made things better for those under my rule."
Margot only stared at Will and Will felt as if he were being studied for science. He could see the way her mind tried to work through everything that he had said. All of the words stood true, he hadn't lied, but there was still the tense grip of sadness through them. The sadness that Margot clearly shared.
"You love someone else, don't you?" Margot gave a sorrowful smile. Will nodded. "Is our marriage to be an open one, then? You in your lover's bed and me to mine?"
"If that would keep us both happy and as satisfied as would be possible in this arrangement." Will's hand covered his mouth with another cough, but he found it gratefully lighter than the others had been. "I do not expect you to fulfill any of your duties as a wife, but I would expect you to fulfill them as Queen."
"You really are willing to go through with this." The surprise was bright in her voice. "And this is merely done in obligation to the crown?"
"We are its servants."
Will hated the way those words tasted on his tongue. Sour. He hated that he was making excuses. He hated that Hannibal had offered such a solution in the first place, even if they never truly had a place in this world. They could have kept pretending. Will would have taken any stolen moment he was allowed. He would have lived happily in the shadows for the rest of his days.
"She will live with us then. Here." Margot glanced around the room. "And she will hold all of your attention, all of your time and we will be the faces of the kingdom while the two of you play house."
"He will live here if he finds the situation agreeable, yes," Will agreed with a nod.
Margot's eyes widened in understanding. There was a burst of laughter from her, the same nervous one from breakfast that morning. Her hand went to her chest, and she rocked slightly in her chair.
"Then your proclivities lie in the same area that mine do." There was a breath of relief from the woman, the smile still dancing about her lips. "I find your maid to be rather beautiful."
Will felt himself smile at the secrets being spilt. "Beverly is just my friend," he corrected lightly. "But yes, she is a rather radiant woman. I think you two would be quite happy together."
"Then we shall keep this information securely between the two of us."
Will nodded weakly, his body finally feeling like it could relax for the first time that night.
"Think about this," Will instructed. "And if you still do not wish to marry by the end of the week, then I will inform our fathers of our refusal."
"Thank you Will." She brushed his curls back and placed a kiss on his forehead.
"That is barbaric," Beverly hissed at Doctor Chilton, taking a protective stance between him and Will who was still shivering in his bed.
"It frequently strangles a fever and imparts strength to the body," Chilton defended, as he dug through his bag for the respective tools he needed. "It removes or lessens pain in every part of the body as well as the burning heat of the skin, and stomach."
"Will, you're not going to let him do that to you, are you?" Beverly glanced over her shoulder to the pale prince. "It did absolutely nothing to help your mother."
Will's mind swam as he pushed through the sickness and did his best to understand all of the words that were around him. He had to pick each one up and pin it down individually before being able to unjumble them and put them in their respective order.
"I need to be better by the ball," Will muttered. "If he says that this will get me there, how do I fight?"
"Will," Beverly scolded.
"Why don't you leave my patient and I to our business and hurry about with whatever duties you are required to perform today," Chilton grumbled out, waving his hand to dismiss the woman.
Will coughed again, curling up on himself and Beverly turned back to him, a hand taking his. "I am not leaving his side," she said with determination. "If he is going to let you do this then I will be here the entire time."
"How long does it take?" Will struggled to catch his breath and his eyes slipped closed once more. He swore he had slept the night before, but it didn't feel that way. He had never felt so tired in his entire life.
"Once you find rest then we will know that the impurities in the blood are gone, and you should be on the mend."
"Find rest?" Beverly's grip on Will's hand tightened.
"He will be perfectly fine," Chilton assured. "Now I must ask you to stop getting in the way of my job."
"Stay with me," Will whispered, giving Beverly's hand a soft squeeze. "Sit by my side."
Will could see the resentment in her movements as she pulled the chair closer to the bedside and sat in it. Her hand stayed tightly around Will's even as Chilton approached the bed with a sharp blade.
Will licked his lips and closed his eyes, breath hitching at the sharpness that filled his arm near the crook of his elbow. His arm was shifted so it was out over the edge of the bed and Will opened his eyes to watch as a stream of red flowed from the cut and into the silver basin of a bowl that had been placed onto the floor beneath his arm.
Beverly's eyes were dark as she glared at Chilton who cleaned up his knife and put it back in his things. "I will be back in a little while to check on you," he said, giving a bow before he turned on his heel.
"Thank you for not leaving." Will's voice felt weak even to him and he fought the way that a strange dizziness was beginning to slowly set in. The bed jolted and Will could only watch as Mischa jumped up and down at the foot of it, happily laughing. She hadn't spoken again since his fall at breakfast, but her noises were far more present. "I need you."
"You're welcome." Her tone was as tight as her grip on him. "I heard about the marriage."
Will breathed out a laugh and nodded, eyes returning to the way his blood dropped viscously into the bowl, the bowl glittering like a jewel. "A penny for your thoughts?"
"You said yes."
"Was there an alternate option?"
"What about Hannibal?"
"He was the one who suggested it."
That brought a silence to the woman who was swirling before Will. His stomach was flipping, and nausea swallowed him completely. His eyes slipped closed at a high-pitched ringing in his ears that sounded like a chapel's bell suspended in an unending vibration.
Will turned the page of the book he was barely trapped in. He flexed his fingers in his left hand that still felt strangely tingly since the bloodletting. He was still coughing, but after taking another one of the poppy pastilles and hot wine he was feeling a touch better. The fever still sat there, at the barrier that the medical practices had created, but Will was grateful for the light break that was being provided for him.
The evening sun through the open windows felt wonderful against his skin, the warmth helping fight against the chills that were still there. His head still swam, and Mischa was still at the edge of his bed, though she had joined him in reading again instead of jumping on the bed.
Muffled shouts in the hallways caught his attention and he looked towards his bedroom door curiously. He couldn't quite make out what was being said, but it was heated. And he knew the timbre of the two tones.
Beverly and Hannibal.
Will waited for them to come through his door, but after a while of the fight still happening behind the wall, Will closed his book, and got to his feet. He pulled his robe over his arms and secured it shut before he went for the door.
He opened it and slowly stepped past James and Brian into the hall where, despite Beverly's shorter height, she stood tall against the knight. Her face was scrunched up the way it did when she was angry and Hannibal's was stone, though his eyes were bright with their argument.
"Leave us," Will instructed his friends who traded glances with him but nodded and obeyed. They snuck past the two upset people in the hall who didn't so much as acknowledge the guards passing by them.
Will honestly was happy to see Beverly and Hannibal, even if they were wrapped up in disagreement. He hadn't seen Hannibal since breakfast and had only wanted him near since he had woken from the bloodletting. He had known better than to ask for the man's presence, knowing that it would look odd, but that hadn't stopped him from aching for Hannibal all the same.
"...him alone!"
"He needs to know!"
"He needs rest, not your sad excuses!" Beverly shot back. "And I swear that if you step foot in that room, I will-"
"You don't frighten me."
"I should."
"Hannibal," Will called, stalling their words before Hannibal had a chance to retort. Both pairs of eyes jumped to him, and he watched as they both adjusted themselves to appear as if they hadn't been at each other's throats to begin with.
"What are you doing out of bed?" Beverly asked. She cleared her throat, her voice still pitched higher than it normally was.
"I could hear you." Will gave a small shrug. "It was loud."
"I'm sorry if we woke you," Hannibal grumbled, a hand reaching up to shake out his blonde locks. He gave a sigh and looked at the ground.
"You didn't."
"We were just leaving," Beverly excused, taking Hannibal's arm in her grip to try to pull him away.
"Please don't." Will held out his hand, palm up to Hannibal who stared at it. Beverly frowned as Hannibal stepped closer.
"You're needed at the stables, Commander," Beverly snapped, and Will blinked at the way her composer had cracked.
"I have time," Hannibal shot back. He slipped his fingers against Will's palm, his other hand cupping Will's face so his thumb could caress over Will's cheek. "You're burning up." The words were soft, and Will let his eyes fall shut as Hannibal's forehead rested against his. "We should get you back to bed."
Will shook his head. "Why do you need to go to the stables?"
"I'm needed back in Spain."
Will's eyes flashed open, and he pulled back slightly so he could meet Hannibal's amber gaze. "No. I need you here."
"Need or want?" Beverly asked from where she had yet to move. Her arms folded over her chest at the sharp look from Hannibal that was thrown over his shoulder to her.
"Stop that," Will instructed, a hand lightly hitting Hannibal's chest. "I want you here."
"I'm afraid that the wants of a prince do not outweigh the orders of a king, William," Hannibal said as his fingers carded through Will's curls. "I will be back soon."
"You'll be gone for months," Will found himself arguing. The hand at Hannibal's chest closed around the fabric of his shirt. "And you just got back."
"Then our reunion will be momentous when I return." Hannibal gave Will a weak smile, the pain evident in it.
"And if I am married by then?"
"Brilliant idea," Beverly tossed out with a huff. "Ridiculous."
Hannibal inhaled deeply and Will could sense the way he was trying to curb his anger and keep his voice level. "Stop thinking like a woman."
"I am a woman!"
"You need to remove yourself from the romances you read to fill your free time and think about the diplomacy of the situation." Hannibal pulled himself from Will, though their hands stayed locked together. "Do you think for a moment that this arrangement has not torn my soul to shreds?"
"You look wholly put together to me." Beverly's hands took her hips, and she tipped her head to the side. Her eyes narrowed. "Besides anger at my questioning your actions, I have seen no other emotions from you."
"You are not the one I have chosen to show my emotions to Beverly."
Will's chest constricted as the argument continued between his two friends. He had only ever hoped that there would be some semblance of companionship between them, but the more they shared their opinions, the more Will was sure that would be improbable. Though they seemed to share the same cares and goals, their ways of going about them brought out their teeth.
"Why did you do it?" Will asked, causing Hannibal to bow his head with a deep breath. "Hannibal, you didn't even consult me. You never thought about my view on the subject."
"I knew you would have fought against it," Hannibal supplied in a low voice, a hand rising to rub at his eyes. "And if I'm forthright, the solution presented itself while you were not present for said discussion to even take place."
"You didn't wait, did you?" Beverly stepped over so she could push her index finger into Hannibal's chest.
"Shut your mouth," Hannibal warned.
"The moment the thought popped into your mind you let it slip through your loose lips."
"Shut up!" The words bounced down the stone hall, leaving Beverly with an open mouth and Will pulled his hand from Hannibal's. That seemed to finally call Hannibal back to himself because he closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. "I am exceedingly sorry, Beverly. Please forgive me."
"Learn to control your temper, sir," she hissed through her teeth.
"Hannibal," Will cautioned. "You will not raise your voice at my friends."
Hannibal's mouth opened and closed several times as he looked over Will, searching for an answer. The one that came took Will aback.
"Yes, Your Highness."
It was cracked and broken, forcing a distance between them that Will didn't want. He was desperate to close it. His hand took Hannibal's again, but Hannibal pulled his hand away from Will's, though the movement was so subtle that Will doubted Beverly had noticed.
"Beverly, can you leave us, please?" Will couldn't tear his eyes away from Hannibal, but he knew that it brought surprise to the woman to be dismissed. "Please?"
Without a word, her footsteps carried down the hall as she left and Will waited until they had faded completely before he tried once more to reach for Hannibal, but Hannibal stepped away from Will, turning his back to the prince.
"She was the one who said that the situation was delicate and when I offer a solution, she tries to bite my head off," Hannibal muttered, a hand rubbing the back of his neck. "You understand, don't you?"
"Even if I do, that does not change the fact that you altered the path of my life without my say so." Will found his knees starting to grow weak under him and he reached out, placing a hand to the wall for balance. "I know that my life belongs to the crown, to the people, but it is still mine and I do not wish to be married."
"I did this for us too."
"For us?" Will could feel the scratch at the back of his throat, but he pushed it away the best he could with a swallow. He could keep his composure a touch longer. "How could this possibly have been for us?"
"Did you honestly think that someday we would be allowed to wed? That I would rule this kingdom by your side?"
"I..." Will's mind wandered through the answers. Perhaps deep down he had dreamt of such a reality, hoping that it would present itself as real when the time came, but Hannibal was correct. It was not a reality. Not for them. It never could have been. "I don't know. Ma-maybe." He found himself leaning further against the wall. "Once I was king maybe."
"Once you were king?" Hannibal questioned, back still to Will. "What could you have done as king?"
"Change the laws," Will suggested, bracing his back against the wall now. The stone sucked the heat from his skin and sent a shiver through him.
"And the church?"
"Dissolve it."
"And the people?"
"What of the people?"
"Do you think that they would not revolt if you suddenly changed the laws and dissolved the church?" Hannibal sighed. "As wonderful as the idea is, it is not possible. I could not give you an heir. I would be rejected by all your subjects. It would start the wars you so desperately want to avoid. Religious crusades from those who think they know better."
"Hannibal," Will muttered, body beginning to tremble. It was getting harder to stand now. He would hit the floor soon.
"The best I could ever be for you would be a paramour which would also lead to issues if it were discovered."
"Help."
Hannibal glanced over his shoulder and jumped into action as soon as he grasped what was happening to Will. His hands took Will's shoulders to help straighten him up and before Will could argue, he was being scooped from the floor and into Hannibal's arms.
Will's arms wrapped around Hannibal's neck, and he closed his eyes tightly, trying to fight off the coughs that were clawing at his throat to be released. His hands tightened on Hannibal's shirt, and he broke, gasping for air.
"You shouldn't have gotten out of bed," Hannibal scolded, though there was no bite to the words. Just saying a fact. "Stubborn thing."
Once Will was resting back in his bed, Hannibal poured some water from a pitcher into a cup for Will. Will downed it swiftly, thankful for the spasms in his throat being soothed. Will handed it back to Hannibal who set the items aside and sat in the chair beside the bed.
"Don't you need to go to the stables?" Will asked, laying back on the pillows and trying to steady his breathing.
"That can wait until we are settled here." The assurance was weak, and Will knew that if Hannibal didn't depart soon that he would be in trouble. But Will would take every moment he could steal with Hannibal.
"You want me to stay here and get married then, is what I am understanding."
"Of course, I don't want you married to someone else." The words held a bitterness in them though it was not pointed at Will. Perhaps at the situation or inwardly. "The idea of seeing you forever tied to another is debilitating."
"Yet you still offered it."
"Did you want to start a war with Germany? Because that is the direction that this whole situation is leaning towards. Some sacrifices must be made, William."
"And so, you barter my life away?" Will did his best to keep his own beginning to kindle anger at bay. "You trade it as if it were your job to do so."
"It is my job. My duty to this kingdom."
"How is this your duty?" Will sat up a little further, begging for Hannibal's eyes on him, but the man avoided his gaze like an animal that knew it did wrong. "Pray tell me."
"It has been my responsibility since we were twelve. Since the moment my father's heart stopped beating. If you read those things we found in the-"
"You are banished Hannibal!" It burst from Will in a yell and finally Hannibal's eyes returned to him. "Your father's obligations are no longer yours. Where do your loyalties lie? Because they do not lie with me."
Hannibal rose to his feet and Will was waiting for a shout, but it did not come. Instead, there was a plea in his voice, begging to be understood. "Each scar I bear is a testament to my unwavering loyalty to you and our kingdom! I did not fight on those battlefields for my own glory. I did not kill those men for my benefit. I did it so that our people did not need to know the pains of suffering and so that you did not have to taste the bitterness of men's unfounded anger."
"It is not our kingdom." The words burned as they were said. "It could have been, but it is not any longer."
Hannibal's eyes glistened with tears in the fading golden hour. He slowly licked his lips and situated himself. His body stood tall and rigid. "If you would please excuse me, Your Highness. I believe I am needed in Spain."
"I believe you are."
Hannibal gave a deep bow and straightened himself up, a tear rolling down his cheek. Will did his best to ignore it and looked towards the open windows where a young blonde girl stood, watching birds flying by. The sounds of Hannibal's footsteps grew distant, and they stopped at the door.
"Did you need anything before I go?" It was a bid to stay longer. A request to be called back.
"Yes. Can you have Brian and James return to their posts?"
"Of course, Your Highness." Will had almost thought Hannibal had left with how silent the room had become, but when footsteps returned to his bedside, he shut his eyes tightly. "Will?" Will shook his head. He couldn't fight both the fever and Hannibal. One of them had to go and it wasn't going to be the illness. "I love you." A long and painful silence filled the space between them and finally Hannibal's footsteps retreated again. Will released a breath that he had been holding unintentionally. "Will, I-"
"Leave," Will ordered, finally turning to look at Hannibal whose cheeks were shining with his fallen tears. He supposed the real words he had meant to say were I hate what you have done, but he couldn't pull back the ones that tumbled from his lips. "I hate you."
The words hung in the air, a painful silence following in their wake. It cut deeper than any sword, words and pride were sharper than anything else they could have fought the battle with. Hannibal, too proud to show his own vulnerability, turned and left the chamber without a word, leaving Will sitting alone in the echoing emptiness of the room.
I hate you.
