Will tossed and turned in his bed, too hot and too cold. The fire in the room crackled too loudly and was too bright to allow him to sleep comfortably and he eventually found himself over at the window, sitting in the seat beneath it.

The moon was overly bright, brighter than Will had seen it. It lit up his room and reached the corners where the fire just didn't seem to stretch far enough. It backlit the trees eerily and Will watched the bare branches move in the wind, the wind crying as it went.

The crying grew louder and Will swore it was coming from somewhere behind him now. He rose from the window seat and fetched his robe from the foot of his bed, pulling it on and tying it around him as he went to the door of his room. When the door was opened, the sound of grief was infinitely clearer and Will immediately knew which room it was coming from.

He found the door without issue, having directed the occupant to it earlier in the evening. When he pushed it open, the noises' volume increased. Inside there was another fireplace lit to keep the room safe from winter's biting chill. It cast flittering shadows over the four poster bed where Hannibal was twisted up in the covers and crying in his sleep.

Will closed the door behind him and stepped closer to the bed, a hand taking one of the wooden posts to watch. Tears were rolling down the blond's cheeks and his brows were furrowed in agony.

"No!" he begged, voice bouncing off the walls of the room. Will jumped at how loud it was and looked around as if there might have been someone else there to see. "No! I'll kill you!"

Will tipped his head to the side curiously as he looked back over Hannibal. Maybe he had killed the guards. Will had thought it a possibility, he wasn't exactly sure what else could have happened to them, but he had never thought Hannibal would admit it aloud. Not that he was consciously doing so now, but all the same.

As he went back through the memory he wasn't even sure he could come up with how Hannibal had brought all those men to their knees. There had been at least six that Will could see, but there had been no weapon he could call to mind. No knife or rock, unless it had been lost to the snow which was plausible. There had been a scuffle, the snow disturbed though reclaimed by the fresh powder. But how could someone like Hannibal, whose skin was so tight over his bones to the point where in the firelight he might have just been bones, take on six grown and trained men?

"You killed her!" he screamed and Will gave a sigh. As intriguing as the show was, he couldn't afford someone coming in here. Hannibal had been left in his care and as much as he didn't enjoy the chore of it, if a servant came in here and then told his father, Will would be in more trouble than what it was worth. Especially if his father had been drinking, which was almost as full proof as the alcohol that the man consumed.

"Hannibal," he called, grabbing the boy's foot that was trapped up in the blanket and giving it a shake. "Wake up."

"No!"

Will stepped further around the bed, hand grasping Hannibal's shoulder as he shook him. "It's a nightmare. Wake up."

Before Will had time to think, his body was shoved down into the bed, a weight over the top of him, pinning him. Hands were around his throat and the pressure was fierce. Will gasped, his hands instinctively shooting up to where Hannibal's wrists were, pushing to alleviate the hold, but they held fast and with a strength that left Will in shock.

HIs eyes watered as he tried to suck in air that was denied to him before he had the chance to suck it in. A sour note pooled in the back of Will's throat as he reached up to push at Hannibal whose eyes burned brightly, still trapped somewhere in the memory.

"I'll end you," he hissed through his teeth, the sounds almost garbled as Will's ears rang.

A bright flame stuck somewhere in Will's chest as his lungs seized, begging for some sort of air. His heart pounded in his head as the lit match brightened. It clawed at his throat as he clawed at the boy holding him.

His vision blurred with the heat, fingers trembling as they too caught fire. Everything was ablaze and he was going to melt from the inside out. He was going to combust. He was going to become ash and smoke.

As swiftly as the fire had bloomed, it died. Smothered from lack of oxygen and Will was plunged into ice. Pins and needles were sticking his fingers, his toes, his arms and legs. Stars were bursting in front of his eyes, everything spinning though he could see nothing.

The inhale was so loud the whole castle had to have heard it. The coughing fit didn't belong to Will until he was finally able to place the sounds as his own. He clutched his free throat and leaned over the edge of the bed, his stomach threatening to leap from his body.

The air filled his aching lungs and he gulped it down like it was the sweetest thing life had ever offered to him. His body shivered and shook as drool fell to the floor, the coughing turning his throat sore.

When the world finally righted itself and Will was able to inhale without a cough, he used the back of his hand to haphazardly wipe his mouth before rolling back over to stare up at the ceiling. He swallowed and tears pricked his eyes at the pain there.

His gaze flickered around until it fell on his attacker who was sitting cross legged on the bed, staring without a hint of sympathy on his features. His hands were fidgeting in his lap, though Will couldn't place what object from the angle he was in.

Will opened his mouth to speak, but found his voice missing, only a frog's croak leaving him. He let more feeling return to his body and eventually sat up. His body felt sluggish and he leaned up against the headboard of the bed for balance.

In the firelight Will could finally place what was in Hannibal's fingers that he was still playing with. A red ribbon. Mischa's red ribbon. He must have taken it from her curls before Jack pulled him away.

"I..." Will's hand went to his throat, feeling and sounding like he had been gargling glass. He cleared his throat and winced. "I thought you were really going to kill me."

Hannibal's fidgeting halted for a moment, the only source of acknowledgement of any kind. The pulling of the ribbon through his fingers started up again and Will was swiftly reminded of the blood that had laced Hannibal's fingers when he had found Hannibal.

"Are you alright?' Will tried again. No answer, not even any notion of having been heard. Will chewed on his cheek, a spark of anger blooming in his blood. He had just almost been strangled to death by some random stranger he had saved and the least said stranger could do was answer if he wasn't going to apologize. "I won't be treated this way," Will informed through his teeth. "You will answer me."

Hannibal's brows rose, his hands stopped fully. There was something taunting in Hannibal's stare as if daring Will to keep going.

"Are you ok?"

Hannibal turned his attention to the fireplace that was slowly turning to embers and someone was bound to come stoke soon to bring it back to life. Will reached out and snatched the ribbon from Hannibal's grip. The panic that filled Hannibal's eyes as his attention shot back to Will filled Will with a sense of satisfaction.

"Give it back," Hannibal ordered, trying to grab the ribbon but Will jumped from the bed. Hannibal's accent was far thicker than Will had noticed before and it made Will curious if Hannibal's family held the same accent. Something not from here and something different from some of the Italian accents Will heard in court.

"When you answer my question," Will said.

Hannibal's outstretched hand fell back to his lap. I will not be berated by a sad excuse for this kingdom's prince. Give it back before I kill you."

"You already tried."

"I stopped, but I didn't have to." There was deep truth to the sentence that sent a shiver through Will.

"If you kill me, they'll execute you."

"I hope they do." Hannibal got from the bed and Will jumped back as Hannibal tried to grab him. "Give it back!"

"No." Will held the ribbon out of reach when Hannibal once more snatched at it.

"That's all I have of her! You stole her from me! Give it back!"

Will froze at the desperation in Hannibal's voice and he didn't fight as Hannibal stole the ribbon from his hand. Some more of the answers fell into place and Will watched as Hannibal sunk to the floor, the ribbon being clutched protectively to his chest.

"Thit's why you were mad at me," Will said, lowering himself to the ground to try to catch Hannibal's gaze. Those eyes told Will more than anything else from Hannibal. "You're mad I saved you."

"You didn't save me." Hannibal's eyes were shining with tears and his words dripping with hate. "You trapped me in this world."

"Then take yourself out of it." Will wasn't sure where the aggression in his voice came from but it was tight and clipped. "Jump out of the window. Throw the bedsheet over the balcony. Set yourself on fire. What do I care?" Will's arms folded over his chest. "It's because of you I'm trapped here too."

"Oh please," Hannibal spat. "Being a prince is so difficult."

"You would know."

"I would," Hannibal agreed with a nod. "And it's pathetic how easily you are collapsing under the pressure of the singular thing you are expected to do in this life while everything else is handed to you."

"You think it's easy to be king?" Will demanded, hands clenching to fists. "If you could see the way it causes my father to drink, maybe you'd think differently."

"If your father were a stronger man then maybe he wouldn't drink."

The offense cut deeply and the words left Will before he could hold them back. "And if yours were stronger, your family would still be alive."

"Your father is the reason they are dead, not mine!" Hannibal shouted, face red with furry. "It was King Sanford's guard out there, not anyone with my family's coat of arms."

"And why would that be?" It was a genuine question from Will that seemed to help break up the rage in Hannibal. His features softened, not as bristled, but still defensive.

"I don't have any idea. Your father didn't send them, I take it?"

"Not to my knowledge." Will nodded in agreement. "Jack Crawford is the head of the guard and I don't think he knew either. He looked surprised when he found us." Hannibal inhaled deeply and rose to his feet, heading towards the fire to add more wood to it to breathe more life into it. Will could feel the cold nipping at his bare toes on the stone floor. "You didn't look surprised when my mother mentioned your-"

"Queen Theophania meant well," Hannibal commended. Will watched as Hannibal's face lit up with the new flames, gold sending shadows over his face that made him look haunted. "But if she knew what I saw she wouldn't have said a word."

Will stared and felt his chest constrict as the truth came into place. "You saw them kill your parents."

"They did more than that."

The doctor had deemed Hannibal too weak to attend classes with Will, but Will wondered what Hannibal had done to trick the doctor into letting him stay in bed all day. As far as Will's neck went, which he had carefully covered with one of his slightly higher collared shirts, Hannibal was more than strong enough to be out of bed.

A ruler came down on Will's desk, leaving a loud snap to echo the classroom and Will jumped, his mind being dragged from its thoughts and towards his tutor. She was a beautiful woman but just as stern as her husband, Jack. She had been asked to be called Bella, but Will knew that wasn't her real name, though her real name was never uttered by anyone else in the court and so Will didn't know what it could possibly be.

Her brows were raised high on her face and Will straightened himself up to look towards the writing on the paper in front of him that was dictated in Bella's sweeping scroll. He did his best to rapidly take in the information written there while her voice once more asked the question that had gone unanswered.

"What is the correct pronunciation of this word here?" The tip of the hand carved measuring stick pointed to the word Will was meant to say and he stared at it long and hard. When he didn't produce the word fast enough for Bella's liking, Will was met with a disappointed sigh. "You need to study your French and your Italian, Prince William. It is vital that you know more than English and Spanish. The former are not very different from the latter."

"Why must I know them?" Will complained, resting his cheek in his hand, fingers absently tracing the word on the paper before him. "If people come here, why not learn English?"

"What if you need to deal with treaties with other countries and they only write in their native language? What if someone comes here for an important meeting and you cannot speak to them? What if there is going to be a war and the only way to-"

"Alright," Will grumbled begrudgingly. "I understand."

"The way Italian is set up is not so different from Spanish, William. The verbs work in similar ways. So, please, let's try to focus. When we are finished here you are welcome to go to the stables. It's too cold to practice riding today, but I'm sure the horses would enjoy your presence all the same."

Will frowned. Normally he would take the offer without complaint. Anything to get out of this classroom, away from this castle. But with the snow as deep as it now sat, too deep to recover Mischa's body according to whispers from the guards this morning, he couldn't run free with the horses. He was as cooped up as they were in their stables.

His mind was far more interested in Hannibal anyways. Their conversation hadn't lasted much longer that night, dying with the light in Hannibal's eyes as the memories must have played in his mind of whatever had happened to his parents. Will hadn't been able to glean any details, verbal or nonverbal. Whatever it was was darker than Hannibal was able to utter, returning to his favorite past time of silence.

The ribbon shone in the firelight as it twisted between Hannibal's fingers.

"Prince William!" he was scolded, another loud thwack coming as the ruler made contact with the desk once more. "I will not ask for your focus again. If you do not behave I will not be reprimanding the whipping boy."

"Yes, Bella," Will whispered, eyes turning back to the paper littered with Italian. "Forgive me."

Hannibal's vow of silence stood strong as he joined them for dinner that evening, given the same meal as the night before. Bread and broth, doctor's orders if Will had to guess. Will stared at his own plate lamb pie. The crust of the pie was golden and flakey, steam still rising from it, but Will found himself unable to eat.

All he could bring himself to do was watch as Hannibal once more pulled off chunks of bread and dipped it into the bowl of broth before bringing it to his lips and Will wondered if his parents could see through the sickness Hannibal was putting on.

He still looked weak and pale and skeletal, starved to death, but there was nothing but strength in the boy. What would his strength look like when it was fully restored? Will's hand rubbed self consciously at his neck as the question ran through his mind.

A ruby gaze met his, something in it prompting Will to finally try to eat. Something that told Will that if Hannibal had to be trapped here to live another day then Will did as well. He wasn't allowed to get out of life as easily as skipping meals. Will would have to try harder than that. Impress Hannibal, if Will so chose to end things.

As Will cut into the pie, crimson spilled from it, carrots and potatoes swimming in it. Will's heart leapt in his chest and he closed his eyes tightly with a calming breath, before opening his eyes again to find only gravy there.

Why had he been graced with the waking nightmares? Everywhere he looked there was blood now. Why couldn't he live those horrors when he was sleeping? Why had Hannibal been given that blessing?

"Hannibal," Queen Theophania said and Will looked towards his mother who had set her knife and fork down. Hannibal didn't look up from the bread in his hands as he tore another piece from it. "We have been searching court records for any family of yours and we are having trouble locating any living relatives from your father's side. Would you happen to be able to inform us of anyone on your father's or mother's sides that we could send word to?"

If Will didn't know exactly what Hannibal was playing at he was certain his mouth would have fallen open at the way Hannibal simply ate another piece of bread, not answering. Two times in two days the queen had been left without a reprieve to her inquiries and Will wondered how long Hannibal would be allowed to keep his silence up.

"He still hasn't spoken yet," Alana once more informed in her polite voice from somewhere behind Will. "Doctor Chilton thinks that it might be from shock." The defense for this boy who sat across from Will made his mind spin. He couldn't remember a time when anyone had defended him in such a way from his parents. He was never shielded from their cruel and cutting words or punishments when they were handed to him. "We were asked to be patient with Hannibal."

"That does not help us find his family any quicker," King Sanford slurred, waving his cup about, the dark liquid sloshing from it and onto the table cloth. One of the maids was swift to rush over and clean the mess. "I need the answer. Do you have any relatives, boy?"

A bitterness filled Hannibal's eyes and Will licked his lips, his mind racking for something to say. Anything.

"Perhaps Doctor Chilton is right," he threw out with a shrug. "You didn't see it. It was quite a gruesome sight. I had nightmares myself last night. Hannibal needs time to recover."

He didn't know why he was defending Hannibal to his father. Maybe it was this new game that Hannibal had brought to the table without any word of the rules or that it had even begun. I'm going to live, but in return make your life a living hell in the most inconvenient ways possible.

"I give him until the end of the week," Sanford announced loud enough for the entire present staff to hear. "If we do not have the answer by this Friday's eve, there will be consequences."

Theophania gave a faint laugh, looking over her husband in disbelief. "How do you expect to punish Count Lecter?"

Will looked over Hannibal as the words stuck him. Count Lecter. Hannibal was no longer an heir. He was a nobleman through and through. A count, three steps down from a king. That night, however long ago it had happened, Hannibal had inherited his own estate and all of the shiny bits and bobs that went along with it. Hannibal would take over his father's work as well.

Count Giuliano had held a great amount of power in the court as far as the records that Will had studied told him. Giuliano had been in charge of collecting the taxes for the kingdom. He held power over the church and could dismiss any leaders therein if he saw fit. He could raise and lead an army if the kingdom ever went to war.

Hannibal had been trained in the same aspects if Will had any of his own experiences to go by. Another person trapped by their future that had been decided long before they were ever born. A future that Will didn't want. As for Hannibal, he couldn't place if Hannibal wanted it or not. It didn't matter, Will supposed. It was Hannibal's now and unless Sanford stripped Hannibal of his title, his land, his home, then Hannibal's it would stay.

That was the exact route of thinking and Will rolled his eyes as how not creative his father truly was. He was not a brilliant mind, mind dulled with or without drink, and it showed now.

"I will remove his Countship from him," Sanford threatened.

The information did nothing to rattle Hannibal who simply traded a knowing look with Will. He would play the long game and Will had to be along for the ride if they were going to get through this together. Or maybe they would go down in flames and Will found that to be a much more intriguing ending to their odd relationship.

When the meal was done, conversation turned to something lighter by Theophania, Will and Hannibal were excused from the dining hall and the moment the door shut behind them with a promise of Alana being along soon, Will turned to Hannibal.

"What are you playing at?"

"I'm not sure I understand your meaning," Hannibal said, beginning a leisurely walk down the hall and towards his chambers.

"How did you convince the doctor to-"

"You lick your palms when they're not looking. Vague enough symptom."

Will blinked after Hannibal who was getting further away and he had to remind his feet how to walk to catch up to Hannibal. "You can't just stay silent," Will continued on exasperatedly. "I will not keep making up excuses for you."

"Yes I can and yes I will." Hannibal's smirk was deadly and Will scowled at it.

"My father will strip you of your-"

"He wouldn't. Not with how I was brought up." Hannibal waved his hand to dismiss the threat and Will sucked on his teeth in an attempt to not blow up at Hannibal whose calmness was beginning to grate his nerves. "I hold far too much value for your father for him to take my title. I am the only one with access to records and documents needed by the court. I am the only one who can-"

"No one cares that you're nobility." Will hoped his jab would do something to the boy, but Hannibal was just as unmoved as he had been the whole evening. "The moment they find a family member for you to go to, you'll be shipped off and forgotten. No one cares about you."

"I don't need them to. I just need you to keep playing along."

"And why would I do that?"

The gleam in Hannibal's eyes made a lump form in Will's throat and he didn't like the way that Hannibal came to a stop and fully faced Will, attention completely on him. Will felt like he was going to be eaten alive by a predator. It sent chills down his spine and he stopped breathing.

"Because you finally have found something interesting."

"I do not find you interesting," Will snapped.

A sharp smile greeted him. "You will."