"Today is a big day!" Alana announced as she entered Will's room. Will groaned as he was drug unceremoniously from his sleep. The sun poured in like a flash flood and blinded Will before he had even been able to open his eyes. "It is time to get up! We have much to do to prepare for today!"

"Please." Will pulled his pillow over his head, but it was swiftly ripped from his grip by the woman. "Alana, just a few more minutes."

"It is your wedding day, and I will not have us waste it by sleeping away. It is time to get up."

Will hid his face in his sheets as he stretched. "When are the Verger's arriving?"

"They will be here around midmorning. We are to get you dressed to greet them and have breakfast and then we will handle final wedding arrangements while you are fitted in your suit."

"No!" Will had been partly sat up and let his arms collapse under him to fall back into the bed. "No fittings. I do not wish to be part of any more fittings for as long as I live."

"You will go to your fitting, or you will not be given the letter that arrived for you this morning." Will pushed himself up at the news, hope blossoming in his chest. He met Alana's smug gaze, and she folded her arms over her chest. "Well, that certainly got you to move, didn't it?"

"The letter?" Will held out his hand to her and she tutted her tongue and shook her head. "Alana."

"After you are dressed and agree to go to your fitting. Then you may have your letter."

Will rolled his eyes, letting a deep exhale escape him. He pushed himself to his feet and went through the motions of being a puppet on strings for his puppeteer. He was placed into a yellow color that he didn't much care for, and he hoped that his clothes for that evening were more in the shade of blue that Theophania had liked.

Had Elizabeth dressed him in blues as well? Had there been a moment when she had seen him in that color and decided that it was the perfect hue for him? Did she know the way it brought out his shine in eyes and hints of red in his curls?

Will's mouth had gone dry, and he looked over himself in the mirror, searching for Elizabeth there. His fingers ran over his cheek bones and his jaw that he would need to shave before that night, the stubble catching on his fingertips. He pushed his curls back from his forehead before letting them flop back in place. He even gave a smile and looked over the shape of his lips and then his teeth as he traced them with his tongue. How much of him belonged to her?

"Someone is feeling rather vain today," Alana jested from behind Will, but he didn't turn to face her. His smile dropped and he turned his face to the right in an attempt to see his profile. His silence must have brought a worry to the maid. "Are you alright?"

"Do you think my mother would be here if she could?" Will asked, the real answer he was longing for one he knew he could not receive. "Would she watch me get married?"

"Oh." There was a breath of understanding behind Will. "I'm sure the queen would have been helping you plan the entire time if she were still here, dear."

"Would she be proud of me?"

"What is there not to be proud of?"

Will straightened himself up, his eyes taking in the fullness of his person once more. A stranger stood before him, echoing back in glass. He didn't recognize himself anymore. He didn't know if he was even himself anymore. What was staring back at him was not the Will Graham of several months ago. This was a new Will Graham and he hated how much of his father he saw etched into his features as the days wore on.

His softness was gone, slowly dissipating for something sharper, colder, older. It laced his eyes and his stature. It kept him tall and upright at attention as if he could never rest again. It kept his words tight and his heart frigid. The dislike of himself shouted so loudly it was a wonder the mirror hadn't shattered with the strength of it.

"Do I look like my mother, Alana?"

There was a hesitant pause and Will's gaze shot to her in the mirror. She studied his face for a moment or two longer before she shook her head. "Queen Theophania? No. But I do see your father in you."

"That does not ease me," Will grumbled, turning away from the mirror. "I do not wish to be him."

"Becoming like your father is not a bad thing, Your Highness."

Will let out a sardonic chuckle and shook his head. "Becoming my father is the absolutely worst thing that anyone could strive to accomplish in this world." He held out his hand to the woman. "My letter, please."

"Come down the instant you are finished reading it." Alana rummaged around in the pocket of her apron for a moment before she placed the envelope in Will's hand. "We do not have the time to waste today."

Will nodded and waved Alana away, cracking the wax seal on the envelope and sitting down in one of the many chairs in his room. He waited until the door was pulled closed and the room was empty and silent before he ripped the paper from its confines and unfolded it.

Will's chest constricted and lightened as he took in the familiar handwriting there. What a day to receive this letter. God must have known the type of strength Will needed today of all days. There had been no lie in Alana's words. Today was a big day.

Dearest Will,

There is not much news to tell on my end. The proceedings have been dealt with successfully and I dare say the king will be rather relieved with how well the negotiations were received. All who participated were highly agreeable and spoke very well of their wants, needs and ideas. I am curious though if your Spanish would have held up if you had been present.

I am just as relieved that my work here is done. The days were long and dull and lulled terribly. Every second was a year without you by my side and I am anticipating the moment I am able to step foot back in England.

Thank you for your last correspondence. I am happy to hear of your health returning to you. I regret not being able to be by your side as you recovered, but it sounded as though you had the help of everyone there with you. I am glad Beverly is your friend. We might argue, but she is someone I would wish you to keep in your life always.

I will board the Mary Rose in the morning and, God willing, I will be home within the week.

Until then, my heart quickens at the idea of approaching those castle walls. I can almost see the flag bellowing in the wind from the tower. I can see clearer than day you rushing to greet me the moment I reach home. I hope you are as eager to see me as I am to see you. I will hold you close, and every moment apart will be forgotten.

I love you, Meilė.

Yours forever and always,

Hannibal

Will inhaled deeply. He swore he could smell the salt of the sea on the letter as he rested it against his lips. His eyes slid closed. He would be here within days. Will did not know how much longer he could sit in compliance when his entire being wanted to fly to the port and meet Hannibal there.

The surprise that would be on the man's face when he stepped from the Mary Rose. The smile that would light up those eyes. The way Will could rush to him and hug him without prying eyes.

Will longed for the feeling of those strong arms around him once more. To hear that accent whisper its shock in his ear. To feel that heart beat under his palm. To smell the scent of the sun and the ocean on his skin. To finally feel the entirety of summer in a single moment.

The ride back would be filled with conversation. Stories of their time apart and conversations to discuss their understandings of their situations and where the kingdom now lay. Between those words would be caresses, kisses, other softer words of nothings.

As much as Will yearned for such a moment, there would be no such thing. Once Mason was dead, he would need to leave for Germany with Margot at his side to take up residency in that county and establish his rule. He would have to send for Hannibal from Germany, but maybe that would be for the better. Perhaps Germany would be safer for Hannibal. No one there knew who he was.

Will took one more deep breath before folding the paper back up and returning it to its envelope. He added the letter to the growing pile in his bedside table drawer and left his room. He hoped that Hannibal was able to return home before Will had to leave. He hoped that he would hear his laugh again before the four of them went to start their own life and came up with the plan needed to remove Sanford from the throne.

Until then, Will had guests to welcome. He found them waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs just as he had the first day they had joined him in his home. Margot looked just as beautiful and distant. There was some dusting of purple over one of her shoulders, but it was mostly hidden by her dress and hair. Bedelia stood just as tall, though she kept space between her, and Mason and Will wondered if she had been given the order to stand down. And there stood Mason. He somehow appeared taller, more formidable. His nose looked as if it had fully healed from their altercation, though it still sat crooked with his glasses.

Will hit the bottom of the stairs and with as much politeness as he could summon, he gave a deep bow. "Your Majesty," he greeted before he straightened himself up. "What a pleasure to see you again."

"We both know it is not," he shot back in a voice that betrayed the dislike of the words. Mason's smile was grotesque and Will's skin crawled when he returned it.

"Lady Du Maurier." Will was greeted with a bow which he returned with a slight tip of his head, and he turned his attention to Margot who was wearing the smallest of smiles. "Margot." Will reached out and pulled the woman into a tight hug that was returned. "It is wonderful to see you again."

"Same to you," she said, her voice holding the slightest bit of color to it.

Will released her and held his arm out to her and she took it. "Breakfast should be ready right about now. I am sure you three must be hungry after traveling all this way." Will glanced up to Mason who was watching him carefully. He motioned forward. "Would you like to lead the way, Your Majesty?"

His lips tipped up slightly and he nodded, turning on his heel. "Perhaps I did teach you some manners the last time I was here." He started towards the dining hall and Will allowed Bedelia to follow before he pulled Margot along with him at a slightly slower pace.

"What did he do to you?" Will asked in the barest of whispers. Margot's grip tensed in his. "Your shoulder."

"It's nothing," Margot excused with a grin that was far too big for her.

"Do not lie to me," Will warned gently. "If we are going to make this work, there needs to be complete honesty between us."

"Mason grabbed me is all. It doesn't hurt anymore. I'm alright. Honestly." There was a plea in her eyes when she met his gaze. Let this go. "After tonight I don't need to worry about him any longer."

"I promise he will never lay a hand on you again."

"Thank you." Margot turned her attention back to the walk. She cleared her throat and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Is there a chance I could see Beverly today?"

Will felt a smile pull at his lips. "I could see to that being arranged. Perhaps she could help you with your dress."

"I would appreciate it."

"You are taking far too long!" Mason called, his voice bouncing off the walls. "I might begin to think you are keeping secrets from me, dear brother!"

"Of course not, Your Majesty!" Will answered with a roll of his eyes that brought a small laugh bubbling up from Margot. "There are no secrets among family."

Will rounded the corner and jumped when a hand seized up his chin, the grip brutal. Will met wild blue eyes head on, but he didn't bend under the weight of them. He held their gaze, waiting for what their owner was planning to do.

"And did we uncover some of those secrets?" Mason questioned, voice soft and breath hot as it hit Will's face.

"I am not sure to what you are referring to," Will excused, his free hand going up to release himself from the monster's claws. "Should we join my father for breakfast? We all know how impatient he can get when kept waiting."

Mason didn't move. His hand no longer held to Will's face, but it did not move from where Will had pulled it, wrist still clasped firmly in Will's grip. Will was no match for Mason's physical strength. He had been searching for such a solution to the issue for later that evening.

Mason took a step closer, and Will naturally pulled Margot behind his person as a shield. Her hand clutched tightly to his arm, warning him to allow Mason his oddities. The sooner he got them out of his system, the sooner things could move on. But Will was tired of letting people step all over him.

Mason's eyes shifted momentarily to his sister and then back to Will. He sucked on his teeth for a moment, head tipping back the other way, as if sizing Will up. If Mason decided he wanted Will dead, Will knew he didn't stand a chance, but there was something thrilling in the idea of a fight that he knew was coming now. One where they were far away from any sort of fountain.

"I'm glad to see your health has been restored to you," Mason whispered. "It would be a shame to have someone so sickly marrying my sister. She does deserve the best after all."

"I think that we are agreed," Will muttered with a nod.

"Brother, dear." Mason let out a deep sigh. "I am sure you are aware that some of our best exports are our livestock, our swine."

"Of course, Your Majesty." The grip on his arm from Margot tightened.

"I remember walking the swine fairs with my father." Mason pulled his hand free of Will's grasp and brushed a curl from Will's eyes with a gentleness that brought a cold creeping across his flesh. "Papa's little silver knife was ever ready to slip out of his coat and stick into the back of a pig to check the depth of fat."

"Our education was an odd one," Margot muttered from behind Will. "And he does not need to be subject to it."

"Shhh..." Mason hushed, blue eyes flickering to his sister. "Women should know when to keep their mouths closed in front of men. The only time a woman's mouth should be open is when she is on her knees."

"You will not speak to her that way," Will hissed, voice harsh. "Not in front of me."

Mason's lips twisted into a wry grin, and he laughed loudly. "Oh, those were good, funny times," he continued as if there had never been an interruption. "Papa would stab the pigs who thought everyone was their friend. Scrubbed in milk and papered. Such coddled little things."

Margot jumped as Mason made a stabbing motion with his hand and a squishing sound came from his lips. Her hand stayed tightly on him, and he could feel the way she was leaning into his body to hide herself from her brother. Had she ever had anyone to protect her before or had she always dealt with this on her own?

"Coddled like Margot."

Mason reached out for her, but Will caught his hand, positioning himself even further between the two of them. He threw a look over Mason's shoulder to where Bedelia stood. Her face was blank, her lips pursed, but her eyes told Will that if she could do something she would. But she was just as much at risk as Margot was. They both were simply trying to survive in the best way they knew how.

"Papa taught me how to stick the knife in only as deep as necessary, to test the thickness of her skin."

Will despised the way Mason used her. Knew exactly what he meant by it. Margot was his pig. The pig that he could poke and prod and stab and torture without it squealing too loudly. She had been raised that way. She didn't know better.

"You have miscalculated," Will warned. "Struck a nerve. I suggest we move on."

"Margot would love to stick a knife into me, and it wouldn't be to test the thickness of my skin," Mason sang, trying to take a step around Will who swiftly followed, Margot still behind him. "She tried once already. Didn't you, darling little thing?"

That was the bruising she displayed. How bad had things gotten when she had returned to Germany? Or was this just how they normally were, and Will was simply being reacquainted with the acquired taste?

"May we reach the point of your threat and move on?" Will tried once more. Today was going to be an extremely long day if they were going to play these types of games. Games that Will hadn't played since Hannibal and he were children.

Those blue eyes scorched him as they flew to his face. There was a small squeak from Margot as Will's throat was grabbed in a firm grip. It was meant to force him to submission, but he wouldn't kneel. Not ever again. Not before his father and not before this bastard, even if the air was leaving the room around him.

"Are you planning to carry your own silver knife in your coat tonight, brother dear?" Mason leaned closer. "I would advise against such an act."

"I am not sure what I would be attempting to accomplish with a silver knife in my coat tonight, Your Majesty," Will got out between the small amount of air he was being allowed to intake. "I have far more pressing matters to attend to tonight anyways. I will be completely consumed with my marriage and then the creation of an heir. I doubt tonight will hold time for much else, save for maybe a drink between the two if I am ever so fortunate."

"Are you going to make her squeal like the pig she is?" Mason's grasp around his neck tightened and Will did his best to ignore the way the lightheadedness swirled around him. "It's about time someone bred the sapphic out of her."

Will was released and Mason turned away from them, heading for the double door that was waiting for them. Will waited until Mason was shown inside and Bedelia trailed after him before he turned to look at Margot.

His hands took her cheeks, and he brought her to look up at him with wide eyes that were staring in disbelief. He gave her the gentlest of smiles and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"He won't touch you when I'm here," he whispered, pulling her into a tight hug. "I promise."

"Thank you." Her words were muffled against his chest.

"You tried to kill him?"

"He has done far worse than that to me." Margot pushed herself from Will's grip and circled her arms around herself. "As soon as breakfast is done, I would love to see Beverly."

"Of course," Will agreed, holding his arm out to her once more. She took it and Will kept back his remark about how she was trembling. "The moment you are finished we will call for her."

It was blue. There was a sense of relief as it was draped around his body. The yellow gone and the shade that best complimented him against his skin. The velvet seemed to trap the light in it, giving it the feeling of the deepest nights.

He hated the pins that were being placed around him, but soon it would all be over with. This day would only be a few hours longer and then he would be sitting in his new home within the week.

He looked forward to the boat and carriage ride. He longed to see more of the world, know how it looked, felt. Know how it ran. He wanted to understand how it worked outside of these claustrophobic stone walls he had been trapped behind his whole life. He longed to see Germany.

"Your Highness," Alana said, as she took in his appearance around the workers bustling about the room. "I beg of you to leave that tattered thing behind. It is your wedding night."

Will's hand immediately went for the ribbon bound to his wrist. It hadn't left him since the moment he had tied it there last. It kept Mischa close. It kept Hannibal closer still. And it held the truth before him to see as clearly as day. A reminder of what had occurred and what he was striving for. What all of these tiny moments had been building towards.

"It stays," Will stated strongly, letting his hand be pulled back by a seamstress who he had ripped it away from and had been lucky not to get pricked with a pin. "I will not be parted from it."

"If you father sees-"

"What will he do with a ribbon?"

Alana gave a huff, her hands taking her hips. She strode forward and reached for it, causing Will to jump from the stool he stood on and hastily step back. "You are no longer a child. You do not need the crutch of-"

"You touch this ribbon, and I will lock you in the tower!" Will's heart raced in his chest, pounding away like horses' hooves. "You do not touch this ribbon. Have I made myself plain?"

"Perfectly."

Will waved his hand dismissing the seamstress who looked bewildered with the situation. Each gave a little bow and left the room until it was only Alana and Will. Will sighed deeply, a hand rubbing at his jaw as he sat on the stool in front of the large mirrors. He stared at his reflection for a long moment, eyes continuing to flit back to the scar across his cheek. The depth of it was tenfold today, something crude and unkind.

"I do not want to become my father," he muttered, the words distant sounding as he said them. "And yet, every day I slip further and further into his countenance."

"Your Highness?" Alana stepped closer before kneeling beside him. Will straightened up to look down at the woman who had cared for him like a mother more than any of the others had.

He was failing. He had already failed. Everything he had been trying so hard to keep pushed down was bright and loud and bubbling with want to overflow. It had pushed his patience and kindness to the very limit, and he was snapping.

"I fear I must apologize to you once more, Alana," Will said, reaching out and grasping one of her hands. "Today is not an easy day for me and I have taken it out on you, which was not my intention." He sighed heavily and looked back at the mirror. "I am not myself today and I feel as if I have been slipping for a while now. I ask you to forgive me."

"Marriage is not the end of the world, William." Alana placed a kind smile on her lips. "It can be a fulfilling friendship if you allow it to be."

"The marriage part is not to what I am referring." Will released her hand and rose to his feet. "Would you please ask them to return? I need to finish this fitting." He helped Alana to her feet, and she obeyed. His reflection took hold of him once more. His fingers brushed over the scar on his cheek, the raised skin foreign against his fingertips. "I will not become my father."

The music that was being sung behind the doors was melancholy at best. It brought a denseness to Will's bones he wished would dissolve. It stuck him to the spot, staring straight ahead.

Alana continued to fuss over him, making sure that each curl lay perfectly in place and that his cloak was donned as was customary. The large coat of arms on the back must have been glistening with how much golden thread had been used to make it. The weight was immense and pulled him down.

"I'm ok," Will assured with a laugh. He snatched up Alana's hands and she smiled as well. A nervous breath left her. "You've done more than enough."

"I have watched you grow up since you were only a few days old. No bigger than a loaf of bread and now look at you. Any mother would be as proud."

Will's grin softened and he kissed Alana's hands. "I suppose my job is to just stand there until she is ready."

"You will do wonderfully."

Will nodded and released the woman before heading for the door. It was opened for him, and he stepped into the large hall. The room was split down in the middle. Half of the hall held his kingdom's colors in large flags on spires, while the other side held the Verger's family colors. The blue melded with the red as if they belonged together.

Separated were also his father and Mason who were both sitting rather boredly upon thrones on their respective sides. Friends and family shared the same split. Will recognized the people on his side, the other side not so much. Though both had respectfully dressed in their absolute best. Silks, velvets, satins in deep jewel tones stood everywhere he looked.

Within the front of the hall, lit by an ungodly, staggering number of candles, was an altar draped in fine furs and linens.

Will made his way over to it, taking in the massive cross behind the bishop who had been robed in the deepest of purples. Between the two stood the choir who were singing that same gloom woven melody.

Will stood at the altar, straightening his already fixed cloak. The option to run was no longer available to him. The clock was ticking, the sand almost completely passed through to the other side of the hourglass.

Everything could stay the same or they could change it all.

He was greeted by the bishop, and everything was explained to him in low tones. Will was nodding in understanding when he caught sight of Beverly making her way through the crowd and to where King Sanford sat.

The bishop's words faded away when Beverly leaned over, whispering something to Sanford. The way it caused Sanford to sit up on his throne brought confusion to Will. He could feel his brows furrow.

He met Beverly's gaze, and she shook her head before turning her attention back to the king and holding out a creased piece of paper to him. It was snatched up and Sanford buried his nose behind it.

A letter.

Something had happened. It was urgent enough to interrupt the event and be given to the king. Will didn't have a clue what it could be, but it was not good news based on how Sanford waved Jack to him and passed him the correspondence. Will's heart sank with the unknown. Everything that could have happened raced through his mind.

Beverly was dismissed and Will gave her a questioning look, but she just held up her hands to still him. He was meant to stay in place. He was to play the good doll and look the part. Not get uppity over something that was not of his concern. But when Will cast a look towards Mason and caught interest in his features, he found it difficult to stay in place.

A hand took his shoulder and he jumped, finding his father standing before him. Dread pooled through Will at the stern look in his father's eyes.

"Will you allow us a moment, Bishop?" Sanford asked. "I just have some last-minute advice I would like to bestow upon my son before we get started."

"Absolutely, Your Majesty. Take as long as you need," the man excused. He gave a bow and stepped away from them to give them privacy, but Will's shoulder was tugged, and Will was being led back up the hall and towards the doors he had entered only minutes before.

The doors were opened and closed behind them and Will realized that he was utterly alone with his father. He could not recall the last time he had been alone with the man, though he doubted it had ever occurred. Not even their fights and beatings were exclusively their own.

Will gasped in pain as his back was shoved up against the nearest wall. His eyes shut tightly, and he winced as the pain settled into his spine. He opened his eyes, taking in how close Sanford was to him, his forearm braced against Will's chest and barring him to the wall.

"I am going to make something superlatively comprehensible so that even a fool such as you can understand what it is I am saying," Sanford hissed lowly as if they could possibly be overheard. Will's blood rushed in his ears and he tried to catch the breath that had been stolen from him. "This wedding will continue despite what I will say next. It is imperative that it does. I need to see a strong prince, not a little spoiled bitch. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Will muttered with a nod. Breathing slowly became more difficult the longer his father's arm pressed into his chest.

"I have graciously kept my comments to myself on the subject of your lovers over the years." Sanford had lowered his voice further. Will couldn't keep the surprise from his face. He was certain he had kept that part of his life under wraps. "I did not even mention the latest one you have acquired, but the behavior will no longer be tolerated."

Who knew? Who had found out about Hannibal? The secret of his personal preferences could collapse the kingdom just as swiftly as his illegitimacy could. They were playing a dangerous game. Mason's curiosity in the throne room had not held a hint of understanding or familiarity, so Will doubted that he had been the one to send the letter.

"Who?" Will asked.

"Do not play dumb with me boy." The hiss was met with another shove up against the wall that knocked the air from Will once more, causing him to cough. "Commander Shikibu. I saw the way you two acted after your fountain disturbance."

"No." Will gasped and shook his head. It ran through the fuzzy memory of the fountain, trying to locate what they had done to allow them to be caught. "Who else knows about it? That's what the letter was about, wasn't it? Someone else knows."

"No. And you should be thanking the Lord no one does." There was a deep inhale from Sanford and Will waited for what was written on that paper. What had caused such a stir. "The Mary Rose was caught in a storm."

Suspicion filled Will and his brows furrowed. "Why are you telling me this now? It can surely wait until after the wedding."

"It is time to test what you are made of. It is time to show me what type of man you are. Are you strong enough to handle the weight that comes with the crown?"

"Father?"

"The Mary Rose went down in the storm. There were no survivors."

The air shattered like a sugar sculpture crashing to the floor. The words echoed their meaning, a never-ending nightmare. The world around Will seemed to blur into insignificance, the room spun, and he felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs.

The seconds that followed were a chaotic mix of disbelief, denial, and overwhelming grief. His mind was a storm of emotions, each one crashing against the next. Tears welled in his eyes, and a cold numbness creeped over him as reality sank in. Hannibal was gone, and Will was left in a world that suddenly felt cruel and empty. The world had lost its color, its hue, its tincture.

Sanford released his grip on his son and the prince collapsed to his knees without the unpleasant support. His hand clutched to the ribbon around his wrist as his salvation. His chest rose and fell as his breath tried to return to him, each one tearing at him as if trying to rip his heart apart.

"This is where you show your worth to me, William," Sanford said, breaking the deafening silence around them. "Who are you?"