Will's smile grew as his curls were played with. He listened happily to Hannibal's heartbeat in his chest and let his eyes read over the letter before him. He bit his bottom lip between his teeth to hide a smile and let a finger reach out to trail the paper that Hannibal was holding for them to see.

"You wrote so properly," Will muttered. "Your Highness this, Your Highness that."

"I'm not exactly what you would call one of equal status," Hannibal defended.

"You should have become a poet." Will snickered and there was a light tug to his curls. "In the solitude of the cold, stone walls of my chamber, my thoughts often drift to the tender moments we shared under the moonlit skies. Hannibal, you could rival Chaucer himself."

"Hush," Hannibal instructed with a smile in his tone. A kiss was pressed to Will's head. "Your letters weren't any less dramatic. I long for the warmth of your embrace, the gentle touch of your hand, and the sound of your laughter that used to fill the halls of our castle with joy. Our castle, Will?"

A blush rose to Will's cheeks. "Did we love each other then?"

"I don't think we understood what love was," Hannibal mused. "All I can say for certainty is that the longer we were apart, the more my thoughts consisted of you and the more I missed you."

Will reached up, gently brushing a finger over the healing gash in Hannibal's nose. The bruising was nearly gone now, the sign of their skirmish nearly disappeared. Will found it sad in a way. He would miss the mark he had left on Hannibal. Hannibal stole his hand and brought it to his lips to kiss Will's fingertips.

A knock on the door caused Hannibal to sit up and carefully pull himself from beneath Will. He returned to the chair beside Will's bed before Will called, "Enter," while getting himself comfortable again. The door opened and Beverly stepped in with a fine silver tray, laden with what looked like a soup of some sort and some more tea. She placed it onto the bed, allowing Will the chance to move all the letters out of the way.

"Is it safe to assume that I am wanted back to continue the assembly from earlier?" Hannibal questioned with a sigh.

"Yes," Beverly answered, though her attention stayed on Will, a hand reaching out to gently caress his face. "You look positively feverish. Are you feeling alright?"

"Other than my throat and lungs still hurting, I feel ok," Will assured. "I just supposed that the pain would stick around for a while."

"Should I stay with you for the evening? Or perhaps I could find Alana."

"I don't know when I'll be able to return," Hannibal stated, getting from the chair and pulling it closer to allow Beverly to sit. "Perhaps it would be best for her to stay with you."

"Would you send for Brian and James when you're down there?" Will asked, happily accepting the kiss that Hannibal gave him.

"Of course," Hannibal assured with a nod. "Don't be too harsh on him, Beverly."

"I'll practice the utmost restraint, I promise." Beverly's smile was tight, but Will could hear the care in the tone. "But when I get the chance to speak to you alone, I cannot extend the same kindness."

"Nor would I expect you to do such a thing." Hannibal gave Beverly the barest of smiles and turned to leave the room with a longing look at Will before the door was closed behind him.

"What is all this?" Beverly reached out, pulling one of the many opened letters on the bedspread to her. Her eyes scanned the words as Will did his best to sit up in his bed so that he could eat some of the food that sat balanced precariously on his lap. "He did write you after all, didn't he?"

"He did."

"They're lovely." Beverly's words were airy as she reached out for another letter to read. "The memory of your smile is my solace, a beacon of hope in this bleak and relentless darkness. I can still hear the melodic timbre of your voice, soothing like a gentle stream running through the harshest of deserts. His command of words is staggering. If he whispers things like this in your ear when you're alone I think I could understand why you are so enamored by him." Beverly reached for another, and Will felt a light smile play at his lips as he took a bite of his soup. "Did he send these to you?"

"Some of them," Will explained through his mouthful. "Some of them he held onto and brought back with him."

"As ink meets parchment, my heart aches with a longing so profound, it resonates through every sinew of my weary body," Beverly read, her body rigid as if she knew she wasn't given firm permission to be seeing the vulnerability that Hannibal lay bare across the pages. "The clamor of war surrounds me, the clash of swords and the thunder of hooves, but amidst this brutal cacophony, my thoughts are tethered to you.

"In the moonlit hours, when the battlefield rests, and shadows dance upon my tent, I close my eyes and see your face, illuminated by the light of a thousand stars. Your visage, gentle and noble, fills my mind and fuels my resolve to endure these trials. Oh, how I ache to hold you close, to shield you from the violence that separates us."

Beverly licked her lips as she set the letter back onto the bed and turned her eyes to Will. Will met her gaze with a kind smile and reached out to take her hand in his. There was understanding there, as if she were finally able to see the connection that had been built through the years of their silence. Even though Beverly had only met Hannibal that one night, she could see the captivity that Hannibal could order to be his. That Will had found his match through that strange circumstance that tied them together. That there was nothing that could separate them, not ever again.

"I am still waiting for an explanation," she pushed kindly. "For all of it."

Will swallowed and set his half-finished food aside with a steadying breath. "I never did tell you how I found Hannibal, did I?"

"Not in depth," Beverly agreed with a nod.

"Then I suggest you make yourself comfortable and possibly find me more tea." Will cleared his throat, a hand going to it as if he could somehow sooth the glass shards that he spoke to just with his fingertips. "I will not leave out a single detail."

"How are we feeling this morning?"

Alana pushed open the curtains of the windows and sunlight poured in in such a heavy blanket that Will thought he might be blind from the onslaught. He blinked until his eyes adjusted and groaned. His throat burned with the noise. His head was fuzzy and hot and there was a slight pressure right behind Will's nose. His ribs ached as he tried to breathe as if they were trying to collapse in on his lungs.

"Horrible." Will wished he hadn't spoken. Wished he had stayed silent. He was swallowing daggers. Will pulled the sheet up and over his head to hide some of the light, though the thinness of the fabric did nothing to alleviate the brightness nor any of the phantom chill that crept across his skin. "I wish to stay in bed today."

"I will see that Doctor Chilton is at breakfast, but I do insist that you make yourself present for that. The king has asked for you to attend."

"Tell him that the request was ignored."

"I will do no such thing," Alana informed firmly. "Get up. We need to make you presentable."

Will did his best to find his way to his feet. His bones felt fragile as they struggled to support his weight. Each joint was laced in a dull heat, but it was enough to cause Will's legs to tremble beneath him.

Will was dressed, Alana finding pause when she was met with the dark markings around his neck, arm and, Will noticed as he caught sight in the mirror, down his back and calves where he had been forced into the basin of the fountain.

"I'm very sorry that this happened to you." Alana was swift to busy herself with finding the next article of fabric, but Will could hear the genuine notes to her tone. "I know that your father chooses to turn a blind eye, but the rest of us know the truth and we stand by your side, Your Highness."

"Thank you, Alana."

Will inhaled as deeply as he could, ignoring the screaming in his sides, and he coughed. His hand shot over his mouth, and he stumbled enough that it caused Alana to grab onto him for support. He clutched to her as his body once more tried to force his insides to become his outsides. He gagged at the ferocity of the fit and Alana struggled to keep him on his feet, the two nearly tumbling to the ground.

"I will find-"

"No," Will interrupted. He gathered his breath the best he could and adjusted himself so that he wasn't leaning on the woman any longer. He brushed his curls from his face with trembling fingers. "You said I am needed at breakfast and we both know that if my father expects me there that it will be bad news for the both of us if I am not present. I will see the physician after."

"Y-Yes, Your Highness." Alana gave a hesitant nod, her hands still outstretched to catch Will if another spontaneous fit hit him. Once she was sure Will was alright, she continued to dress the prince, the worry deep-set in her motions and expression. "I will have Chilton there swiftly. Please be careful with yourself."

Will didn't answer. The moment the last button in his top was fastened, he pulled from Alana and left his room. The halls caused Will to pause as he took in the slantedness of them. It was as if a giant had come in the middle of the night and had knocked the castle off kilter.

Will's eyes shut tightly as he breathed deeply. An hour at most. He could make it through a conversation and then go back to bed. He could listen to whatever his father had to say. He could face this and then go back to sleep.

The stairs were the worst part. Will's hands gripped the railings as they spun like the hands of a clock. Slowly and then jolting all at once as the hand found its home at the next number before it would jolt to the next.

"Will?" a voice asked, the tone holding little emotion to it. "Are you alright? You look ill?"

Will made sure he found the landing of the stairs before he looked up to meet Margot's haunted eyes. Her face was twisted up in concern and she was immediately reaching for him, taking his weight upon her. She was stronger than Will had thought she would be.

"My father requested my presence at breakfast. He always gets his way," Will explained, grateful for the way the world stopped spinning with Margot's grip on him.

"That sounds like my father." She tried to make the words light with a laugh, but they fell flat. "You should be in bed. You look right awful."

"Thank you." Will dismissed the words with a smile at the princess who politely returned it. "I will retire after breakfast."

Margot didn't fight any more. She nodded, finding silence, and helped guide Will towards the dining hall. When they entered the room, Will found quite a few more people present than he was used to. King Sandford was at his normal spot at the head of the table. In Theophania's seat, Will shuttered to think, sat King Molson.

Across the way was Mason and Bedelia. Mason was already eating, not bothering with proper etiquette. His nose was swollen and colored angry reds and purples. His hands were cut up as well from Will scratching him.

Standing at the side of the room were the guards, among them Jack, Brian, James, and Hannibal. It was the first time that Hannibal hadn't been sitting at the table with them and Will wondered what could have caused his father to order his commander to be with the rest of his men.

Beverly was also missing, much to Will's surprise. She was always present for their meals as well, though she was not always invited to eat. Perhaps she had been too tired after their long night of reconciliation. Will didn't blame her. He wanted to be back in his bed as well. Or perhaps she had been serious about only performing her assigned duties and none of the extras she had been performing for years.

Margot and Will approached the table and Will pulled out a chair for her on the other side of Bedelia. He helped her sit before doing his best to steadily make his way around the table to take his spot on the other side of Molson.

He could feel eyes watching him carefully, namely the guard and Mason. When Will sat down he wasn't sure if the sight and scent of food or the knowing look Mason gifted him made his stomach churn more. But he didn't like the way those blue eyes glinted behind their glasses that, now that Will took them in, had one lens shattered. That must have happened in their tussle yesterday as well.

What did Mason know, though? Mason had hinted and prodded at so many different things yesterday that Will wasn't entirely positive as to what Mason was trying to taunt him with. Whatever it was, it was doing more than enough to lift Mason's spirits. He was all smiles.

Will looked down at his plate and shut his eyes tightly as he fought his stomach back into submission. He was not going to be sick here in front of everyone. He was going to keep his mask on until whatever his father needed him for was taken care of and then once he was alone, he could crumble.

"Now that we are all present, I think we should move onto business," Sandford announced loudly from his seat. Will fought back a tickle in the back of his throat with a swift snatch of a glass of water in front of him. Once it was settled, he did his best to turn his attention to his father, but all he could seem to focus on was the way that King Molson was staring at him in a savage blue. Whatever was coming, Molson didn't approve of it. "It is with great pleasure that I announce the fulfillment of a promise made in the best interests of our kingdoms and its future prosperity."

Will's heart sank in his chest. He didn't need to be told what was coming next and with the shared look from Margot, neither did she. It was as clear as day and Will wanted to snap under the heaviness of the next sentence. The unease tensed in Will's chest.

"An arranged marriage has been decided. Princess Margot and Prince William will be wed. This union will strengthen the bonds between our kingdoms and ensure a prosperous future."

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence, the weight of those words settled upon Will's shoulders like an iron shroud. The air suddenly grew dense with unspoken emotions, and he found himself at the precipice of an emotional abyss, his heart teetering on the edge of an unfathomable chasm.

The echoes of Sandford's words reverberated in Will's mind, and he felt an agony unlike any other. He was now held hostage by an unyielding union forged by the hands of mad men.

There was an explosion of nervous laughter from Margot, the most emotion he had heard from her yet. His eyes flickered over to her, and he found her hands braced on the edge of the table, complete helplessness in her eyes. Something so much crueler than whatever had been lying there before.

"And whose deranged idea was this?" she demanded, her voice echoing off the stone about them.

"It was a joint decision," Molson said, but his words were swiftly overshadowed by Sanford's.

"Commander Shikibu suggested the solution and we have found it to be the most viable of our options if we wish to avoid the war that has been breathing down our necks for the last near decade."

"Just do not go to war!" Margot snapped, rising to her feet. Will could only stare as she turned to look at him, pleading for help. "Will you say nothing, sir?"

Will found himself unable to speak as the truth burrowed into his bones. Hannibal had suggested it. This was Hannibal's idea. After everything they had gone through, and this was how it was going to end? It was going to rest on the sense of honor and duty that Will had never wanted to uphold to begin with?

Every stolen glance, every whispered secret, every touch—each had woven the tapestry of their love, delicate and beautiful as the finest silk, but now that tapestry was torn asunder.

Tears welled in Will's eyes, threatening to spill over, and he tasted the bittersweet saltiness of his own heartache. The world around him seemed to blur as he grappled with the realization that the love he had cherished so deeply would never have the chance to move past this point. It was dead in its tracks.

In that moment, he felt like a lone wanderer, caught between the fierce winds of obligation and the tempestuous sea of his own desires. It was as if he stood at the crossroads of destiny, unable to move in any direction without leaving a piece of himself behind. The conflict between heart and duty was a relentless storm, tearing at the very fabric of his existence.

He wished for the strength to defy convention, to chase after the love that had illuminated his life like a radiant sun. But as the weight of expectations bore down on him, he couldn't help but feel like a trapped bird, wings clipped and dreams tethered, yearning to soar freely into the vast expanse of life that awaited beyond these confines.

He was left with an agonizing ache, knowing that the path ahead would be fraught with heartache and sacrifice, all while the memory of Hannibal and the what ifs would haunt his every step.

If Hannibal had found the power to offer up the solution knowing full well what it would mean for the two of them, then Will had to find that same power. Will's mouth was sticky when he finally did find the words to say, though they were not his own.

"I will honor your decision and fulfill my duty to our kingdom."

Will could only watch as everything in Margot shattered, and she collapsed back into her chair. Her mouth hung slack, and her eyes were wide and unblinking. A single tear ran down her cheek and she didn't even flinch when Mason reached across Bedelia to catch the tear on his finger. Margot didn't so much as breathe.

"Wonderful." Sanford clapped his hands with a large grin. "We shall hold a ball at the end of this week and announce the marriage."

"Father, might I be excused?" Will found himself asking. He couldn't tell if it were the emotions in the room or if maybe he truly was coming down with a fever, but his body was the strangest mixture of hot and cold. "I'm not feeling well."

"We did have a bit too much fun yesterday, didn't we brother?" Mason tormented snidely.

"Please make sure that the physician looks over you if you are unwell," Sanford instructed with the same feigned concern he always used when Will was hurt in any way.

Will rose to his feet and tried to take a step away from the table, but his air was snatched from him as another spell of coughing hit him full force in the chest. He gasped for air between what was being forced from him. One hand took his chest as if he could hold himself together. The other snatched for the table, but he must have overshot it.

There was a clattering of dishes as they fell with him to the ground. The shouts around him were muffled and the only thing he could clearly make out through his fogging vision was a pair of blue-ish bare feet stepping closer to him.

Mischa lowered herself to her knees, a hand outstretched towards him and though Will had never heard her voice before, never heard her speak, her mouth opened.

"Would you like to play with me?"