Normally Will would have seen the order from his father as unsavory, but being commanded to go to the barracks and to check on the soldiers there to see how they were fairing after their first night was anything but unsatisfactory. Especially knowing that Hannibal had gone straight from the library there to check on his men.
Will slowed his horse as he reached the garrison, both James and Brian following suit. They dismounted swiftly, but Will stayed put, leaning against the horn of his saddle, watching the scene that was playing out before him.
The soldiers in all manners of dress or undress were circled around two men. They were shouting, yelling, betting, and drinking, spirits merry and bright, having obviously taken well to the feast and rest the night before. There was a hearty clank of metal on metal that rose above the jeering and the cheering.
One of the men Will recognized easily. Hannibal. The man he was fighting with charged him and tackled Hannibal, taking them both to the ground, swords clattering and lost somewhere in the grass.
The movements were swift, and the unknown soldier was forced onto his back and a punch was thrown. Yelling continued as there was one more punch thrown by Hannibal before several men in the crowd raced over and pulled Hannibal from the battered soldier who had his hands up to protect his face, lip split and blood streaming down his chin.
"Winner!" a brunet yelled to the crowd, holding up one of Hannibal's hands into the air.
Hannibal's chest rose and fell with his hard breaths and when his hand was released, he pulled his dirty shirt from his body, wiping at the sweat dripping down his face. It revealed the scars of countless battles, a testament to his prowess on the battlefield.
He tossed the shirt into the crowd and held his hand down to the man still on the ground. It was slowly taken, and Hannibal hoisted the man back to his feet, clapping the man's shoulder with knuckles bleeding.
The man was pulled aside, and Will lost him, but he was once more following Hannibal's movements. Hannibal found his sword and retrieved it, letting it drag in the grass as if he were too tired to fully lift it.
"Your Highness," someone finally acknowledged, voice loud about the conversations and anger of lost winnings and the crowd fell silent, all attention turning to him. There was an unsynchronized bout of bows that Will didn't feel he deserved. "It's a pleasure to have you join us." Will finally was able to place the voice and found the same brunet from earlier speaking to him.
"Likewise," Will agreed, scanning the crowd to see sunburnt faces and other men covered in grass stains and dirt from having fought earlier. "I was asked to check on the men and see if they needed anything."
"Other than more wine and ale, I think we are doing well, Your Highness," the brunet answered.
"I shall inform my father of your suffering."
There was a round of laughs below a, "Much obliged."
"What is your name?"
"Matthew."
"Matthew," Will repeated. "I'm sorry to have interrupted what looks like a promising show."
"It's no trouble." Matthew stepped a bit closer, though stayed within the open center of the circle. "Would you like a turn?"
Will's smile grew and his attention flicked over to Hannibal whose face stayed emotionless just like it had when they were young. Will couldn't read him, didn't know if he approved of the offer or not. Not that it mattered. It was Will's to take if he so wished it and he would be lying if he said he wasn't curious. Curious of Hannibal's renowned skills, curious of his true strength, curious about if the bark behind Hannibal's orders and commands the night before were worse than his bite.
"I-"
"He's quite talented," James interrupted, and Will closed his eyes.
"The best in our company," Brian bragged and there was a roar of laughter from the men.
"Then let's see it," Matthew instructed. "Get him."
Before Will had the chance to form a single word, there were hands on him. They pulled him from his horse, and he was shoved through sweating bodies in a disorienting path until he stumbled out into the middle of the circle, coming face to face with Hannibal.
"Make your bets now!" Matthew called to the crowd, pointing to each in turn. "Our commander or His Royal Highness."
Hannibal watched him curiously, waiting for Will to make any sort of movement or argument against it, but Will couldn't find it in himself to excuse himself. Somehow, he felt some sort of responsibility to see this through. To prove to these men, to his future infantry, that he could hold his own. He could lead, he could rule, he could have respect. That he was someone they could look to in a time of crisis and fear for nothing under his leadership.
"No," Hannibal finally said, shaking his head. "He isn't worth my efforts." He turned his head to Matthew. "Get me someone who will challenge me. Someone who has seen battle. I have faced greater foes than a royal heir."
"I've fought before," Will cut in, calling those bloody eyes back to him.
"You do not know war," Hannibal stated, warning Will to turn back.
"I do know war," Will assured, breaking the seal of his sword and scabbard, letting the sword sit at the ready for a swift draw.
"You do not." Hannibal returned his own sword to the scabbard at his hip, breathing hard. He brushed his sweat damp hair back from his face and took a mug that was pushed into his hands from one of the many men at the edge of the circle. He took a long drink, the dark bluish violet wine spilling down his chin and over his bare chest. "And you have no need to start now."
"You're drunk," Will accused and received a tired laugh.
"Not near enough." Hannibal passed the mug back to the man and inhaled deeply, the back of his hand wiping at his chin. "But I have no wish to cross blades with the prince. Imagine if His Majesty, The King, saw you return to him bruised and bloodied. He would have my head."
"Then you're afraid."
There was a low taunt from the crowd and Hannibal rested his hands on his hips, ignoring the men around him and eyeing Will carefully. He shook his head in disagreement.
"No."
"Then you have no reason to deny me my right to our little skirmish and my father need never know."
"This fight need not be had," Hannibal once more warned and maybe Will should have listened. Hannibal was his father's commander after all. He had led an army, this army surrounding them, into countless battles against the Spanish who were formidable, and won victory after victory. He had to be cunning and resourceful. He had to be brazened and strong.
"Don't be afraid of our small contest, Commander," Will pressed, feeling the way that the men around Hannibal held on to every one of their words. "I promise to finish it quickly."
The men around him shouted with smiles and he could see more coins being passed about as the halted bets were made once more. Men were patting Hannibal on the back and egging him on, and Hannibal rolled his eyes, finally falling into acceptance.
He pointed at Will and took another deep breath, still looking worn from the fight just before. "I will not go easy on you just because you are a prince."
Will grinned, hand clasping the handle of his sword firmly.
"I would expect nothing less."
"Are we ready then?" Matthew questioned, looking between the two of them. Will nodded and Hannibal reached across his body to grip his sword tightly. "Bets made?" A cheer was the answer and Matthew nodded. "The rules will be the same. Nothing is off limits, but please try to keep it so that we won't be patching anyone up after this." Matthew held out a hand between the two of them and threw it down.
The noise from the crowd was deafening as Will waited for Hannibal's approach. Hannibal's grip adjusted on the sword and Will took in the careful bend of Hannibal's knees as he readied to attack.
Will's mind raced as he thought back through all his training. Choreographed fights, drills, padding and practice. This was the closest Will had ever been to an actual fight, but he didn't find himself nervous in the slightest. Maybe it had come from studying or maybe it had come from facing his father down almost on a daily basis, but he found himself patient for Hannibal's first move.
Will knew he didn't have to be fair, or kind and he had learned earlier on that being fair never got you anywhere quickly. Cruelty and shrewdness won fights.
Hannibal charged forward and Will's body moved on its own. He caught Hannibal's wrist before his sword could be pulled free and with a firm reverse draw Will slammed the pommel of his sword into Hannibal's face.
There was a hiss as Hannibal stumbled back, a hand to the injury and there was laughter around them. Blood poured from between Hannibal's fingers and when he met Will's smirk, there was a beast awoken in those eyes.
Hannibal's hand dropped and his sword was finally dragged from its scabbard with a ringing. Will almost felt bad at the large gash in the bridge of Hannibal's nose, but in hindsight Hannibal shouldn't have underestimated Will. He wasn't commander of an army, but he was good at what he knew.
Will followed suit, the weight of his sword falling comfortably between his hands as the sun glinted off the steel. With a deep breath, Will struck first. He thrust forward only to be blocked by swift movements. The clang of steel echoed. Will tried again, deflected just the same with a bored glint in Hannibal's eyes.
His nimble movements caught Will off guard; Hannibal much lighter in his motions than Will had first suspected. He had thought Hannibal to be only of brute force, the blood on his knuckles from his earlier strikes proof of that.
The dance of metal continued, each move calculated and precise. A powerful swing sent Will stumbling back to not be hit and he was snatched up by the crowd he had nearly forgotten were there. With absurd strength, Will was shoved forward and he was only lucky enough to swat Hannibal's blade away as he fell, rolling until he was back on his feet.
He whirled around just in time to catch an overhead blow from Hannibal. The strength of the strike sent Will's other hand to his blade in support. Will took the moment to attempt to catch his breath as the fatigue began to set in and only found a smirk on Hannibal's lips.
"Your ability to uphold perfection at all times truly amazes me," Hannibal praised in a low tone so no one else had the possibility of hearing. Hannibal pressed down on his sword. Will did his best to hold it off, but the effort forced Will down onto his knees. "But this is where you will always belong, Your Highness. On your knees for me."
Will couldn't find the leverage to return to his feet. Hannibal was stronger than him, there was no doubt about it. There was something raw and inhuman in the way his body held power. Will gritted his teeth as the weight crushed down on him. There was only one direction he could go.
With a steadying breath, Will ducked, releasing the pressure he had been using to hold Hannibal at bay. With the sudden movement, Hannibal's balance dissolved, and Will used his back to flip Hannibal to the ground. There was a groan from Hannibal somewhere behind Will, but he didn't care. He scrambled back to his feet, sword pointed for Hannibal. He strode forward and kicked Hannibal's lost sword out of reach and dug the tip of his blade into the hollow of Hannibal's throat. His boot forced Hannibal back, by his chest, into the grass as he tried to sit up, hand still outstretched for his weapon.
Hannibal stared up at Will, breathing hard, chest rising and falling, stained with blood that was still flowing from the gash in his nose. Will licked his lips, mouth dry and pushed his curls from his face.
"This is where you belong, Commander," Will said, doing his best to keep his breathing steady until the fight was announced as over. He made sure to punctuate each following word. "Under. My. Boot."
The bloody, smug smile that Will received was subtle and before he could revel in it, he was pulled away from Hannibal and announced the winner to the crowd before being swarmed by Brian and James who were going to get an earful later.
"I'm surprised," Hannibal announced as he excused the staff that was trying to fill his bath for him. Will tipped his head to the side as he sat beside the large basin that Hannibal lowered himself into with a flinch as he tried to relax. "I honestly did not expect your level of study to be where it is."
"You seem to enjoy underestimating me," Will grumbled, propping his boots up on the edge of the tub and folding his arms over his chest as he slouched in his chair. "I won, by the way. Just in case you forgot."
"I let you win."
"You lying fucker!" Will's feet lowered to the floor with a slam, and he sat up, anger pooling through him. Hannibal's laugh did nothing but fuel the fire. Will clutched the edge of the tub. "Bastard."
Hannibal laughed again before sinking below the surface of the steaming water. When he returned, he pushed his hair out of his face and leaned back, closing his eyes.
"You were the fifth man I fought," Hannibal explained in a soft and relaxed voice. "I was exhausted."
"Am I meant to feel pity for you?" Will spat, receiving a snort in answer that swiftly turned to a sharp inhale through teeth and a wince. Hannibal's eyes blinked open, and a hand went to gingerly prod at his nose. "Are you certain that we can't get you Doctor Chil-"
"I would rather patch myself up," Hannibal answered with a small gasp as his fingers directly touched the jagged gash. "I trust my work more than a doctor's." Will leaned forward, his chin resting on his hands, and he stayed quiet for a while, simply letting his eyes and thoughts wander over the man before him as Hannibal once more settled with his eyes closed and his head leaned back.
"I'm sorry," Will muttered after a moment. "For hitting you like that. I could have broken something. It wasn't respectable in the slightest."
Crooked teeth shone in a large smile. "There is nothing respectable in fighting. You did nothing wrong. I promise I have done far worse than you."
Will reached out, fingers tracing Hannibal's shoulder absently. "Can I know?" he asked in barely a whisper and he could feel the way Hannibal tensed under his touch.
"Another time."
"You don't frighten me, Hannibal." Will sat up fully and ignored the way Hannibal stared at him as he propped one of his boots onto the chair and began untying it. "I know it was you who killed those men when we were children." His fingers struggled with the knot, and he frowned.
"Just get in."
The ordered words sent a flutter through Will's chest, and he obeyed. He took the edge of the tub and let one boot slip into the water, gaining enough balance to place the other on the opposite side of Hannibal's body. The water was warm and added a heavy weight to Will's clothes as he settled in Hannibal's lap, hands on the man's chest to keep him steady.
A hand took his cheek, damp fingers sending chills through Will as he was guided forward and kissed. Light, soft, gentle. The opposite of their tussle earlier. Will let himself lean further against Hannibal, enjoying the way their bodies fit together.
"Even so," Hannibal muttered when he broke the kiss. His wet fingers brushed back Will's curls affectionately. "It is not something that you should dwell on. We can discuss it later."
"I don't want to discuss it later," Will retorted with a roll of his eyes. "I want to discuss it now."
"You're not accustomed to being told no, are you?"
"Not very often, no." Will sighed, shifting so he could rest his head against Hannibal's shoulder, the water sloshing with the movement. "What is it like?"
"What is what like?" Hannibal let out a lazy breath, circling his arms around Will and pulling him closer.
"War."
"Will-"
"Please," Will begged, closing his eyes. "What was the worst? You were right. I don't know war. I don't understand what is coming in my future and if I am somehow expected to lead this country, these men, into the very jaws of hell, I need to know what I am facing."
There was a drawn-out silence that caused Will to tense the longer it lasted. He could hear Hannibal's heart beating in his chest, but the steady rhythm didn't change, it didn't falter. It kept time like the swinging pendulum of a clock. Will was about to accept that he was going to be left in the dark again, but finally there was a reluctant breath.
"There was an ambush," Hannibal explained, voice rumbling through his chest and against Will's ear. "It was the middle of the night. We had finished setting up camp and I had fallen asleep in my tent. I don't remember exactly what woke me, but there were shouts and it looked like the sun had risen. It was so bright. When I stepped outside tents were on fire and there were flaming arrows raining down on us."
Will tried to imagine balls of light falling from the heavens. Tried to place himself there, tired, and drowsy, not really knowing where he was after being ripped from sleep. The yells of orders coming from every direction. The scent of cloth burning.
"They came with their swords next, cutting down anyone and everyone that hadn't been shot down. I can still clearly hear the cries of pain, see the men go up like a field of hay when snagged by an arrow. The smell of..." Hannibal trailed off and Will glanced up to find Hannibal looking down at him, though nothing seemed to trouble the soldier. His heart kept on rhythm and his eyes didn't hold the same haunted distance in them that they had when they were children. "Only about forty of us were able to make it out. This scar is from that."
Hannibal pulled one of his arms from the water, showing a deep mark on his forearm. Will hesitantly reached out, touching the indents in Hannibal's skin.
"How?" he asked in soft curiosity.
"The tip of an arrow broke through the shield I was holding." Hannibal slid his arm back under the water, returning to holding Will.
"Were you scared?"
Hannibal cleared his throat, taken aback by the inquiry. "I don't think you can fight for your life and not feel afraid," he muttered. "Will that satisfy your curiosity for a while longer?"
"For now," Will grumbled, letting himself relax fully in the warmth of the water. His mind ran over the story again and again, finding it easier and easier to live in the memory that wasn't his. One tragic event from the many that Hannibal had lived and the many more that he kept silently to himself. It was enough to drive Will insane with questions and he had to break free from it before he turned inside out. "Would you like to walk the grounds with me before dinner? I can show you the pear tree that my mother planted. We could pick some for Guillaume."
"I'm afraid that my presence is required elsewhere this evening." The words were polite, and Will's heart dropped slightly with them. "I have many important meetings to attend to. We still have loose ends to tie up with Spain and I need to be present for the writing and signing of all documents. No one mentions how much paperwork comes with war."
"Are the king and queen going to be coming here then?" Will set up a bit more to look at Hannibal. The man's fingers brushed across Will's cheek.
"No," he answered. "But I might be required to return to Spain for a time."
Will's nose scrunched up and he frowned. "You are forbidden to leave, by royal decree."
Hannibal hummed, a grin coming to his face. "Forbidden?" A kiss was placed to the tip of Will's nose. "Don't you have to be king to be able to do things like that?"
Will sighed in annoyance and received a laugh when he nipped at Hannibal's jaw.
"When I'm king that will be my first decree. That you must always stay by my side."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Should I not be present for this?" Will asked, his pacing continuing at a speed that was causing Beverly to become dizzy. "This is something I will need to deal with someday. Why am I not allowed there? This meeting is important."
"Will." Beverly got to her feet, her book being discarded, and she caught Will by the shoulders. "Your father said no. Why don't we just leave it at that?"
"How can I just leave it at that?" Will's hands took his head, tangling in his curls and he pulled from Beverly's grip to return to making divots in the floor with his repeated steps.
"Are you sure you don't just want to be in attendance because the commander is there?" Will glared at the tease, but Beverly only laughed. "I think I will take you up on your earlier offer." She once more took one of Will's hands and began guiding Will from the library. "A walk through the gardens sounds lovely."
"I don't want to walk through-"
"If it isn't the commander, why are you suddenly so interested in going to the war council's meetings?" Beverly challenged as she tugged Will along down hallways until they reached the main stairs.
"Because someday this will be mine." Will blinked as he was forced out into the sun. His shoes crunched on the gravel, and he inhaled deeply of the sweetness of the spring around him. As they grew closer to the gardens, colors bloomed, and the humming sounds of bugs filled the gentle breeze. "And I cannot rule what I do not understand."
Beverly slowed their walk, lacing her arm with Will's, her eyes looking over the flowers. It wasn't often that she saw Will this worked up over something of this nature. Will was always up in arms about something and sometimes Beverly was under the firm belief that he did it on purpose just so there was something to do during the day, but this was different.
There was strength behind this and if it had always been there and Beverly had never noticed or if Hannibal had brought it out in Will, she couldn't say. But she was finding that seeing Will finally have a semblance of direction was comforting. He had always been lost at sea, fighting a storm and once the queen had passed there had been a time when Beverly thought she had lost her friend for good to the tempest. Maybe now Will had hit the eye of the storm, the calm where he could regroup before the bad came again.
Maybe Hannibal, having come back, had given Will his compass. Beverly couldn't say for certain. She was waiting and watching to see exactly what the count was planning to do by manipulating them into keeping his secrets. But if he could save Will or give Will the strength to save himself, then Beverly would be happy to see it. Time would only tell.
"You don't like war, Will," Beverly reminded gently.
"I think it comes with the territory."
"Your father's battles do not have to be your own." Beverly paused in her step, bending down to pick a daisy from the bunch. She brought it to her nose to take in the sweetness of it before turning back to Will. "Once he dies, his opinions will die with him." She reached out, sliding the stem of the daisy into Will's hair where the curls held it in place. "You need not keep them alive."
"Even if I do not carry on these opinions, who is to say that the world around me will not keep theirs?" Will gave a sigh. "Even if I do my best to avoid such conflicts it is possible that they will still occur. I should still know how to properly handle them."
"What is it that book you're always reading says?" Beverly folded her arms over her chest and gave a thoughtful look as if she were searching for the answer. "Oh, I remember. For if you suffer your people to be ill-educated, and their manners to be corrupted from their infancy, and then punish them for those crimes to which their first education disposed them, what else is to be concluded from this, but that you first make thieves and then punish them."
"You've read it?" Will gave a bright laugh at that.
"It was the only thing you would talk about for weeks!" Beverly shouted, throwing her hands up in the air. "I had to understand somehow. And then when I finally was able to get through the bloody thing, you had moved onto something else!" She lightly hit his chest and laughed with him. When their laughter had quieted down, she gave a kind smile, hand taking Will's arm. "What I am trying to tell you is that you can be that education, Will. It might not change with you or with your children, but you can start that change."
"How Beverly?"
"That university idea was a good start," she offered with a shrug. "I know your father won't uphold your wishes to see it built, but when he is gone you will have the means. You can do amazing things and you do not need to know how war works to do that."
Will turned the page of his book, huddled close to the single lit candle in his room to see the words. Boredom raced through him; his mind unable to focus fully on one thing. Not on his conversation with Beverly, not on his book, not on any one solid thought. They were all moving far too swiftly downstream for him to catch them and examine them fully.
It wasn't until a familiar pair of footsteps passed by his door that he finally gave up struggling with reading his book. He closed it and set it aside, looking towards the door. The steps didn't belong to any person on staff. He knew those perfectly, having heard the same ones his entire life. But there was something that itched in the back of his head as this pair faded.
Will blew out the candle and went for the door, pulling it open far enough for him to stick his head out of and glance down the corridor. He caught the barest glimpse of a shadow disappearing around a corner, and it sparked his interest enough that he followed it. Person or ghost, it was finally something that he could pour all his attention into.
He rounded the same corner and his heart stopped as he was grabbed and shoved violently up against the wall, a hand over his mouth and the coolness of a blade at his neck. He gasped for the air that was knocked from his lungs and blinked at a dark glare that was shadowed in a harsh bruising over the bridge of a nose.
"If you're going to follow someone, you need to be quieter," Hannibal threatened in a low whisper. "What if I had been someone dangerous, Will?" The blade was removed from Will's throat and the dagger was returned to its sheath at Hannibal's side, but the hand over Will's mouth stayed in place. "Am I safe to assume that you will not be returning to your chambers?" Will gave a slight nod and Hannibal sighed, releasing his grip. "You will not like where I am going."
"And where is that?" Will questioned. The familiarity of this night stuck to the forefront of his mind. A much smaller Hannibal, wrapped in a fur cloak and holding a single candle, ready to brave the cold for his sister.
"My estate."
Hannibal turned away from Will and started down the corridor once more and Will hurried after the man, finding himself unwilling to stop Hannibal this time around. His curiosity pulled at his ribs too harshly to be ignored as he ran back through his past of trying to sneak out of the castle to find said location only to be caught and brought back before he had had the chance.
They were quiet as they left the stronghold and headed towards the stables. Will thought he was good at readying his horse, but at the speed that Hannibal was set to go, it brought pause to Will. Hannibal had to know the ins and outs to be ready. If another flaming arrow was shot through the night, he had to be on his horse and racing away faster than Will was able to put his shoes on.
Hannibal was pulling Guillaume past Will but came to a stop and tilted his head to the side, petting the white horse's nose with a small clicking sound when she pulled away.
"She's beautiful."
"Thank you." Will hoisted his saddle up and over his horse's back with a huff of air. "I've raised her since she was a foal."
"What's her name?"
Will hesitated and busied himself with tightening his saddle down instead of meeting Hannibal's inquisitive gaze.
"Mischa."
There was a quiet chuckle and Hannibal stepped back so Will could get the bridle into Mischa's mouth.
"It seems we both are sentimental, aren't we?" The words were thoughtful. "Picking names of those we hold close to us."
"Hannibal, I need to warn you about something before we leave." Will placed a foot in one of the stirrups and felt Hannibal's hands take his waist for support, helping him up onto Mischa. "There was a rather large forest fire a few years back. It was in the same area as your lands. I'm not sure if it reached them, but there is a possibility."
Hannibal gave a nod, patting Mischa's neck before returning to Guillaume and mounting the horse in one fluid motion. "Thank you," he muttered, though Will wasn't sure if Hannibal had actually paid much mind to what Will had said. Or maybe he was possibly trying not to think about the idea that his home had been destroyed. "It's a decent ride. Are you ready?" Will nodded. "Then do try to keep up," Hannibal teased, urging Guillaume out of the stables.
Will followed, enjoying the way the spring night air held the slightest chill to its freshness as it blew through his hair. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone for a proper sprint across the grounds and not just a respectable trot through the fields. His heart raced and soared, and he couldn't keep the smile from his face when he found himself outside of the castle wall.
It wasn't his first time outside of his home, but it was the first time he hadn't been forced to do so by a royal escort and with no ability to pick which direction he got to explore. He wasn't trapped in a carriage with his father or Beverly or Alana. He was free like a bird, and he didn't want the rush to leave his veins.
Fields passed, trees, streams, and it kept going until Will began to grow cold. The moon was the only light, but it granted enough for them to see by and soon Hannibal slowed within a thicket of trees, allowing his horse to rest and walk.
"We're nearly there," Hannibal called over his shoulder, smiling as a blissful looking Will rode up beside him. His curls were windswept and his skin tinged pink. "There should be a gate surrounding the estate."
Will was about to answer, but his mouth ran dry, and his words failed him. He caught the shadow of a large fortress above the tree line. Spires rose into the sky as if trying to reach for it. Just from the small glimpse Will could make out he swore that it was bigger than Will's home.
"What happened to your estate after you went to France?"
"It was left abandoned as far as I am aware," Hannibal answered. "I received a letter from Chiyoh, my aunt's cousin, who was a maid for my mother, about how my uncle had ordered the staff to be relieved as he did not wish to continue paying for it."
"Why not sell it? Take the money? Or take on borders?"
"There were rumors once that it was going to become an orphanage, but I think the stories of ghosts kept all interested parties at bay."
Will thought over the explanation carefully, looking around. The land was left to grow wild, and it had. The brush and forest were growing denser and darker the further they wandered together through the trees.
"The land was yours. Could you not do anything with it?"
"What would I do with land?" Hannibal laughed at the idea. "I had no means of working it. I had no way to pay anyone to work it. The only thing it was good for was to show others that we owned it and you know how much more sway you have over any sort of people when you are the owner of land. It doesn't matter what land, where it is or what you do with it, just that your name is tied to it."
The world had continued to reclaim the estate to the point where when they reached the iron barrier, Will could hardly tell what it was with how thick and tangled the ivy was that grew up it. Hannibal must have known where they were because he traversed the length of the tall iron fencing until it gave way to the gate.
In the middle of the gate sat a large crest and Will did his best to inspect it in the moonlight and beneath the moss that called it home. A coiling snake sat in the middle and above its open mouth was written LECTER DVARAS. On either side of the snake were two beasts on their back legs and above the name on an arch were two birds of prey, all four looking hungry and ready to pounce on the snake if given the chance.
Hannibal lowered himself from Guillaume and stepped over to the gate, taking it in his hands and giving an experimental tug on it. The metal groaned in annoyance at being awoken from its sleep and the ivy rustled. Will watched as Hannibal pulled his dagger from his belt and cut down the center of the crest, severing any ivy that was keeping the two halves closed. With a few more rough shoves, one side gave way, grinding with such a revolting sound that it caused Will to grimace.
Hannibal pulled Guillaume through first and Will guided Mischa through the gate. When Hannibal was back astride Guillaume, they started up the long-reclaimed pathway. The dried leaves crunched under the horse's hooves.
Will's neck was beginning to ache with how his head had to keep tipping back to keep the entirety of the ever-growing fortification in view. It continued to expand until the sky was blocked out and an ivy-covered stone wall greeted the two of them.
Will was helped from his horse and Hannibal tied the two of them off to a nearby tree. Will took a few steps back, only feeling dizzy the longer he looked up. Even the moon was hidden by its enormity.
There was an odd scraping sound that stole Will's attention away from the estate and he caught the barest dancing of light before it disappeared. Hannibal was kneeling on the ground and as Will grew closer, he was able to make out the shape of an old and rusted lantern. With the same scraping sound, another brightness caught the air before darkness settled in again.
"What are you doing?" Will asked, crouching down beside Hannibal to watch him fiddling with what looked like a strange metal hoop and a rather jagged piece of stone. There was a flick of Hannibal's wrist, and the metal stuck the stone showing Will that the small dancing lights were sparks.
"Trying to light this," Hannibal muttered. "The oil and wick are still good. I just need it to catch."
"I've never seen someone light a fire before," Will admitted sheepishly and he rubbed at the back of his neck. Hannibal's movements ceased and he slowly looked up.
"You have never..." he trailed off and shook his head. "Teach royalty how to ride a horse or fight with a sword but not how to start a fire or even dress themselves. God forbid that they need to boil water or lace a boot."
Will frowned at the indirect insult, something inside of him bruised at the way he was raised. He hadn't chosen to be educated in the way that he was. He had asked to learn many things, many times, but he was always shooed away with the excuse that it wasn't right for a prince to do this or that.
"Can you teach me?"
"You want to learn?" There was another strike and more sparks, but all of them went out just as quickly as they had been brought to life.
"Yes."
"Alright then. Get down here with me." Hannibal reached out, taking Will's arm, and pulling him down until Will was on his knees and over the lamp, close enough to be able to see the tools a touch better. "This is called flint." It was held out to Will, and he took it, surprised at how sharp some of the edges of it were. "I found that one in a riverbed in Madrid." Before Will had a chance to speak, the other strange object was held out to him. Now that he was closer, he realized that the hoop was flattened and made to better fit around Hannibal's knuckles. "This is steel. You want to strike the steel against the sharp edge of the flint."
"Seems simple enough," Will thought aloud, letting the metal slide over his knuckles.
"Keep your wrist fluid and come down on the flint."
Will turned the flint around in his hands several times until he found a decent position that didn't feel like it was going to slice his hand open and replicating what he saw Hannibal do, flicked the steel against the stone. There was the scrape and a flash of sparks that caused Will to blink as his vision tried to adjust to the swift brightness that disappeared.
"Good," Hannibal praised, his voice holding a smile. "Now you need to aim for the wick."
Will bit his tongue between his teeth in concentration, doing his best to do as Hannibal instructed. It took quite a few attempts, but Hannibal didn't rush him and didn't seem at all annoyed when, much to Will's relief, the wick finally took to the spark. With gentle caressing from Hannibal, the embers turned into a single flame and Hannibal encased it in the dirty glass of the lantern.
"Beautifully done." Hannibal held out his hand for his tools and Will placed them in the open palm that he could now see in the fluttering light. The tools were returned to a satchel on Guillaume's saddle.
Will looked around until he found the front entrance, shrouded in more ivy, but when he tried to go for it, he found himself alone. He turned back to find Hannibal simply staring up at the building as if it were about to fall upon him.
Will could only suppose that all these years Hannibal had been planning to return, knowing that he would be stepping foot back in his childhood home, but maybe the reality of it hadn't sunk in fully. Not until this moment when he was faced head on with it.
Will returned to Hannibal, slipping his hand into the count's.
"You're not going to face this on your own," Will assured, a hand taking Hannibal's face to guide his attention to the prince. Those bloody eyes glistened with unshed tears in the lantern light. "Whatever is in there, I'll be beside you. Nothing is going to hurt you."
"I might need a moment."
Will had never heard Hannibal's voice so weak. He had watched this man break down into hysterics, cry and yell and beg. He had witnessed Hannibal scream at God himself with tears running down his cheeks. But he had never seen fear in those guarded eyes. And that was fear in them when they looked back at the stolen home.
"Then we will wait," Will assured. "We can even come back again another night."
"And if we return every night and I can never find the strength?"
"That will not make you weak." Will stepped closer, thumb brushing over Hannibal's cheek. "Look at me," he coaxed softly. It took a long moment before Hannibal obeyed. "You do not have to face these monsters tonight."
"Yes." It was a decided, unshakeable resolve. "I do."
