Will's gut warped and he closed his eyes tightly at Jack's affirmative answer. There was nothing Will could do to stop the overwhelming idea that he had been the very cause for Hannibal's traumas. If Will had never existed then Hannibal's family would still be alive. There was no point in thinking such superfluous thoughts when Will had no control over his own birth, but the events had been set up since the very beginning.
Did Hannibal know yet? Will had not gone through the rest of the papers they had pulled from the study yet, his mind far too focused on the Elizabeth debacle. He supposed he could write a letter to Hannibal, but he was unsure if it would reach the man before he had to come home.
There was a breath of relief at the realization. Hannibal would be home soon. A week or two depending on how swiftly he could finish up business and how kind the seas were. And if his father was sending for Hannibal, then he was certain to be home sooner rather than later.
It hadn't registered how badly he had missed the man until the thought of him walking through those castle doors was within reach. It would take everything in his person not to rush to Hannibal the moment he stepped into the main hall. To allow his father to welcome the man home, for him to bow to Will and excuse himself to be cleaned up and rest after such a long journey, and for Will to slip away and corner the man in his chambers.
"I have been instructed to make sure that Mason is removed from the throne," Jack announced to the room, though it was meant more for Bella than Will.
"That's incredibly foolish," Bella scolded.
"Sanford is right," Will cut in, calling both eyes to him. "I was planning on a similar outcome."
"To remove Mason from the throne is a death sentence." Bella's argument was loud and firm. "You've met the boy. He is nothing but a corrupt monster. He is cruel and will not hesitate to end you if he catches even a hint of what you are planning."
"If I am to rule, he cannot be in my way." Will rose to his feet. "And whether Jack takes care of Mason, or I complete the task with my own hands, he will be removed from the throne."
"William, let us think about this." Bella's cautions fell heavy in the small room.
"There is nothing to think about." Will waved away the concerns and folded his arms over his chest. "What I need to know is if I can trust you."
"Trust us?" Bella tipped her head to the side.
"When I take this kingdom and the other either by marriage or by force, will you be with me or against me? Will you let my secret out? Will I be fighting this war with you for me or against me?"
"By force?" Jack questioned. There was something suspicious in his voice.
"Mason may not be the only one I need out of my way."
"This doesn't sound like you, William." Bella rose to her feet. One of her hands took his shoulder and the other his cheek so her dark eyes could look over him. "You-"
"-am only doing what must be done," Will excused, pulling carefully from her grip. "The moment I am married, we need to strike. It very well could be the only chance we have. We have two weeks' time to plan it. I will need an answer by then." Will turned to leave the room, but stopped when Jack spoke, the same suspicion lacing his tone.
"And if we are not with you?"
"I would advise against it," Will warned, opening the door.
"You look rather happy," Will commented as he entered the kitchen. James, Brian, and Beverly were gathered around one of the baskets of apples that had been picked and were each snacking on one. "What happened?"
"Margot is coming back soon," Beverly answered with a large grin before she bit into her fruit.
Brian and James didn't meet Will's gaze and he bit his bottom lip. The upset clearly still sat with with him, and he couldn't blame them. He had been nothing but rude to them the last time he had spoken to them, and he had yet to apologize. He supposed the right time had not occurred or he had been far too out of it for it to make much sense to him.
"Jimmy, Brian." Will stepped closer to the group, hoping that the two of them would look at him. James ignored him, eyes still down, but Brian's eyes were harsh when they met Will's. They sent a chill down Will's spine. "I owe you a heartfelt apology. I've been a complete ass."
That seemed to perk them up the slightest amount. James' shoulders straightened form their slouch and Brian's jaw clenched.
"Go on," James grumbled. Still, he did not look up.
"I've said and done things that were thoughtless and hurtful, and I can't find any excuse for my behavior. My actions were inexcusable. I can explain my reasoning behind them, but that does not negate what I have done."
"What was the reasoning behind it?"
"We don't care," Brian cut in bitterly, dismissing James' question.
"I found out that I am illegitimate and have no claim to the crown and that Theophania was not my mother." The two men's faces turned to surprise and Will gave a small, apologetic smile. "I think that is the bare bones of it. Does that sound accurate, Beverly?"
"I think so. You were still obnoxious and disliked," she said around another bite of her apple.
"That is very true." Will chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "For that I am profoundly sorry. It won't happen again."
"You're not legitimate?" James had finally turned fully to look over Will. "What does that mean exactly?"
"He can't order us around anymore," Brian answered snippily.
"He is still leagues above you in status, legitimate or not," Beverly warned. "Let us not get ahead of ourselves."
"What is it you want, Graham?" Brian's gaze drifted over Will carefully, clearly still not believing the apology.
"My friends back." Will sighed, the moment sitting heavily in his chest. "I miss you both and you have been nothing but supportive of me since we met."
"You need us to overthrow your father, don't you?" James' question caught Will off guard and his smile fell in shock. He blinked slowly, waiting for his mind to catch up. He gave a measured nod and Brian rolled his eyes with a huff. James, on the other hand, looked rather pleased with his deduction.
"We'll pray for you tonight," Brian offered out. "But we are not helping."
"Why not?" James hit his Brian lightly. "He said sorry."
"He doesn't mean it."
"He needs our help."
"No, he does not."
"Do you remember when he saved you from that runaway horse that nearly trampled you?" James demanded, lips downturned in a frown.
"We saved him from Mason."
"You owe him."
"I owe him nothing. He is not my king."
"He could be," Beverly interrupted, causing the two men to fall silent and stare at her. Will shot her a grateful look. "And you know as well as I do, Brian, that he will be the greatest king this country has ever seen. So, if you know what is good for you, you will help us get him there."
"But he's not in the line of succession," James pointed out, confusion knitting his brows together.
"That is where I need your help," Will said, pulling their eyes back to him. "I need the soldiers on my side, not Sanford's. I will need all of the men you can gather for me, and I need them as soon as possible. My wedding night would be preferable."
"Are we planning a revolt?" Brian sighed and his hand scrubbed at his face.
"We're going to be killed if this fails," James muttered, face turning pale.
"I will keep us safe," Will assured, taking James' shoulder, and giving him a smile. "I promise that no harm will come to any of you."
"What a load of shit. We'll be under the axe by morning."
Brian began pacing and Will let out a deep breath. If he couldn't get his friends behind him, then he had no chance. They were the only people who would even dare to help him, be brazen enough to risk their lives for him. Without their help, he would be stuck exactly where he was now.
"Someday they are going to tell this story and it could be our story, but I need you to help me! I cannot do this without you by my side." Will did his best to make his voice as strong as he could. He needed them, not only to overthrow his father, but in general. They had been friends since they were children. He would break to pieces if he lost them now. "I kept you off the front lines in Spain, where nearly the entire regiment was slaughtered. I did not abandon or fail you then and I will not abandon or fail you now, but I am asking that you trust me and be willing to fight on my front lines with me. I do not send you in alone."
Hannibal had been sent for and as far as Will had last been notified, Hannibal was going to be at the Spanish port in the next day or so and coming home. It brought a lightness to his limbs that made his work around the wedding all the easier. He knew that his father was working hard to keep him busy, but with Jack now in his corner, being left out of important meetings no longer concerned him.
He happily picked out colors and cakes. He had Beverly beside him to help in tasting items and name some suggestions. All in all, everything had settled back into a rhythm, more or less. Will patiently waited day by day for any update from Brian and James and Beverly assured him that they just needed more time, but with the wedding closing in, Will struggled to see the same positive outcome the woman was going on about.
Jack waving to Will grabbed his attention and the prince excused himself from Alana's side to join with the knight. They walked in silence for a time until they found themselves alone and Will glanced over Jack to find the man's expression bleak.
"What is it?" Will asked as he clasped his hands behind his back as they continued their casual stroll. "You look pale."
"The final details are being sorted out," Jack announced. "Once you are escorted to your chambers to consummate, we will handle the situation."
Will gave a nod, brows furrowed in confusion. "That was always the plan I was under the assumption of. What about it has brought you to such discomfort?"
"Your father is expecting you to do the honors."
"Me?" Will licked his lips. "He has yet to bring such a thing to my attention."
"He is under the illusion that you will crack under the pressure if you are made aware of the circumstances too early."
"I see. And is this to take place before or after the consummation?"
"After. We must ensure there is the possibility of an heir if you are to somehow fail, and your father seems to think it will help with the nerves."
Will snorted and gave a sarcastic nod. "Yes, of course. That is how he must do all his killings as well. Send me the nearest courtesan and fetch my sharpest blade!" Jack's sideways glance made Will give a shrug. "Do you bed your wife before you are to kill someone?"
"Only if I know we are going to be separated for a long while." Will stopped walking and the slightest of smiles came to his face at the reply. Jack paused in his step as well, turning to look over the prince. "Is this something you can accomplish or am I the one who will be expected to handle the deed?"
Will was quiet for a moment. He had never killed anyone or anything. Not so much as an ant. He had fought and spilt blood, but he had never watched the light fade from a man's eyes by his own hand. His blood spiked at the very notion of it. It made his hands fill with pins and needles. This was no time to doubt. Not after all of the pieces he had set into motion. Not after the way he spoke to pull everyone to his side.
"I will handle it, Jack. I do not want you to face my father's wrath for taking away my shining moment." Will gave a fake smile that showed his teeth and Jack frowned.
"This is not something you have to do, Your Highness. You need not stain your-"
"You never know. Maybe he will tell me he's proud of me once it's done. I think I might just spit in his face if he does so, but it would be a wonderful night of firsts. Don't you think so?"
"Your High-"
"Any updates on the commander?" Will interrupted once more. Anything to move on from the subject of his purity being destroyed. He had heard enough about it from Bella in his return to studies. He did not want to hear it from the likes of Jack, nor anyone else for that matter.
"The Mary Rose left port on Tuesday morning. If the weather holds then he should be home sometime late next week."
Just after the wedding, Will noted.
"Why are you concerned with the whereabouts of one soldier?" Jack pressed and Will did his best to hide the flush that wanted to flood his cheeks.
"We became friends while he was staying here." Will turned away from Jack, starting up the hall and waving his hand to waft away the question. "And I need to know where he stands going forward. If he is with me, he can stay. If he is with the king, then we will need to dispose of him as well. I cannot have someone who is not loyal to me running my armies."
"Will you be handling that one as well?"
"If it comes down to it."
The pages turned one after the other as Will studied them closely in the firelight. He huddled close to the flames of the fireplace to better see. The heat was causing sweat to bead down the side of his face, but he found the pages to be luring enough to keep his mind from the heat.
There were negotiations left and right. Deals being made, trades occurring, hefty bribes being offered in order to keep the Verger's happy. Each time the price grew steeper, and Will sat in awe at how generous the king's treasury had been until it had nearly depleted and Count Giuliano had shoved his hands into his own pockets to continue to hold the war at bay.
How deep the count's pockets had run, Will hadn't the foggiest. If any had been left to Hannibal and seized by his father, he also could not be sure. How Hannibal had been willing to uphold the duty his father had been placed under, Will also had no answer. When they were children, he doubted that Hannibal knew the truth behind his father's work.
Will had only been given the barest of knowledge. Count Giuliano handled the trade between the two countries. The imports and the exports and the taxation on the goods. A nice neat little job tied up with a bow.
Will's fingers played with the ribbon that still sat tight around his wrist. The silk brought comfort to his racing heart.
After each page was read, Will sat for a moment in reflection and came to the decision of whether or not the page needed to be disposed of. Several had entered the fire. He could not risk any of the information getting out. Not yet.
No one had so much as thought about the Lecters in the last five years, he doubted anyone would miss a little log about overpriced goods crossing the German Sea. No one would miss the parley back and forth between a greedy man and a humble one.
The flames lapped at Will's fingers ardently as he passed another page to them. And another. And another.
Everything was slowly beginning to come together. It all fit so perfectly. The only thing that Will had not been able to glean from these pages or from his questioning of Jack and Bella had been how Molson's men had come to gain his father's guard's uniforms? He supposed in the grand scheme of things, such a small minor detail did not matter, but there was something about it that sat heavy in his chest.
There were only certain ways that they could have come upon the uniforms. They could have been made for them. It was possible, but Will doubted it. Unless Molson had inquired about the same tailor, then Will could not find the reason the uniforms had been so indistinguishable from the real ones.
Even now they stood out in his memory. They were not wrong; they were perfect replicas.
So that only stood to reason that they had come about the uniforms by some other means. They had stolen them. There was a myriad of possibilities that went with that answer as well.
Will could not recall any fuss over guards being killed in order to obtain their uniforms or of any of the washing going missing. The first would have been a far bigger uproar than the second, but Will was certain he would have heard the gossip at the very least. Things like that did not stay silent in the servants' conversations.
So that left only two liable options in Will's mind. Either his father had given them the uniforms or Jack had snuck them to Molson's men. Either recourse sent a bitter taste flooding his mouth. He hoped that it had been his father's doing. He did not want to end the relationship he had with Jack so swiftly. But he knew what had to be done. His role in this world had never been an easy one, but he would see it fulfilled to his exact specifications with those he considered friends by his side or as corpses at the foot of his throne.
Pattering footsteps caught Will's attention and he jumped, heart in his throat. He shoved the rest of the thinning stack behind his person, looking around the room for the source of the sound, but when he spotted a little blonde girl with her head tipped to the side staring at him, he let out a deep breath.
"You scared me Mischa." His body slowly relaxed and he rose to his feet. He took the papers to his bedside table and shoved them inside of it, alongside all the letters from Hannibal. "Are we having trouble sleeping again tonight?"
Mischa did not speak. She hadn't since his illness, and he was grateful for that. He took it to mean that he was no longer in death's grip for the time being. But her eyes told him that the answer was yes.
"Are you missing your brother?" Will inhaled deeply as she tipped her head to the other side. Will gave a nod in understanding. "I am too." He stepped closer to the girl and knelt in front of her. "Should we go find the book in the library and head to the chapel?" She turned away from him without a sound and started for the bedchamber's door. "I agree. We haven't done that in a good long while." Will straightened himself and followed the ghostly figure. "Let's help you get back to sleep."
The path to the library existed well-worn into Will's mind. He could find the room in his sleep. The door opened warmly before the two of them and Mischa strode right for the shelf that the book slept on. Will gathered the worn and tattered thing in his hand and began the walk towards the chapel.
The moon cast eerily colorful shadows through the stained glass across the floor. Mischa's skin turned the colors of it as she passed, and Will stole a glance down at his hand to find it doing the same. Purples, red, blues and yellows danced across him.
He found Mischa's coffin, still the smallest of the group, and he settled himself beside it. The book was opened on his lap and his eyes strained in the dark to see. Habits were difficult to bury. He didn't need the book, but the weight was comforting in his hand.
Mischa perched herself atop her bed and her feet kicked, patiently waiting. Will looked over the girl with a smile. His free hand played with the red silk across his skin, and he leaned back against the wall, enjoying the way the colors lit the room.
"Are we ready?" Will asked. Mischa lay back on the coffin, hands folded over her chest as she looked towards the ceiling. "Comfortable?" Her head tipped to the side and Will grinned at the annoyance that played there. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry." He cleared his throat, the Latin coming from him easily, as if he had been born speaking it. "Henricus VIII., invictus Angliae Rex, a princeps omnibus virtutibus decoratus magnus monarch..."