The snow crunched under Will's boots as he stepped through the bare forest around him. The white was blinding and the color of the ground flowed perfectly to the color of the sky, blanketing Will in nothing but a monotone world of white and brown.
His breath hung in the air as he breathed out heavily through his mouth. He should have brought an extra cloak with him when he left, but he couldn't have climbed over the castle wall with that much weight on brittle vines that were crumbling under winter's toll.
He pulled his cloak tighter around him and hunched up against the chill of the wind blowing and pushed on. He didn't know where he was going exactly, but he didn't find that he cared. He just wanted to get away. Castle life was stifling and if he had had enough of it in his few short years, he didn't want to see what the rest of his life held.
The studies were bad enough. He didn't want to think about how his father was constantly in meetings and dealing with paperwork and upkeeping the court. He didn't want to think about how that would be passed down to him someday. He had seen the way it had turned his father to drink and he knew that if his mother had a choice, she would have left long ago.
He had never wanted the crown. It had never been explained fully to him, but he knew the implications by association well enough to understand that he wanted nothing to do with it. His only solution was to run and hope that he made it through the winter. Find somewhere warm to stay and keep pushing on. If he could reach beyond the border before the guards caught him, then he was home free.
His toes had long gone numb and the tip of his nose was red. He was shivering and by now the snow had begun falling again. He knew there was a hunting cabin somewhere up ahead. Or he thought there was, he wasn't quite sure anymore with how similar everything looked. But he knew that there was a cabin his father kept and that was often lent out to other noble families who had permission to use it. He could stay there until the storm cleared up and he was able to get feeling back to his fingers and toes. He didn't know how to start a fire, but that wouldn't stop him. The cabin would at least keep out the chill of the wind if anything.
As the snow continued to fall, Will could feel his chest constrict with fear. Maybe he hadn't thought this through quite enough. Maybe he should have brought that second cloak. Maybe he should have waited until spring came and he wouldn't be caught outside.
The white was disheartening and Will was prepared to turn back, but when he looked back he found that any sort of trudging marks he had left in the snow had been swallowed up with fresh powder. He didn't have any idea where he was or which direction his home sat. The storm had eaten up the looming castle.
Before Will had the chance to feel the dread fully set in, a cry broke through the eerie silence of the storm. It was close by and a sound unlike anything Will had ever heard before. Something so utterly broken that Will thought it might be a fox stuck in a trap. It was tortured. Another followed and Will turned towards it. Even if it were a fox, he knew the layout of his father's traps. Maybe he could figure out where he was if he found one of them.
As he came to the top of the crest of a hill the white was broken up with steaming crimson. It covered the snow and the earth was bleeding with it. Will had never seen so much blood before. Not even when cleaning the deer his father caught. It was a blanket, fresh and bright.
Will inhaled deeply, his body wanting to run when his eyes landed on a body face down in the snow. It looked like a soldier of some sort. One of his father's guards, but the uniform was stained with red, turning it a deeper blue than will had even thought possible.
Another cry snapped Will from his stare and he finally spotted the source of it. A boy in the storm, huddled over something. He didn't look much older than Will, but he was all alone out here. He wasn't dressed anywhere near warm enough for the storm, missing a cloak, gloves, hat or anything of the respective sort. And his clothes were stained in the same blood that couldn't be buried by the falling snow.
Will rushed as fast as he could through the mess around his calves and his heart jumped into his chest when he was finally able to make out what the boy was clutching to him. A young girl with blond curly hair was tight in his grip. Her blue eyes were lifeless and stared emptily up at the storm. Her hair was held back by a red ribbon and her nightgown was red down the front where it looked like she had been torn apart by a vicious animal.
He didn't know what to do, what to say. All that he could hear were the cries of the boy who shivered, though Will didn't think it was from the cold. Off in the distance Will could make out the body of another of his father's men. And another. And another. Each one was dripping with that maastricht blue.
Had the crying child done this? Had he taken on his father's men? Trained soldiers destroyed by a child who looked close to starvation.
Will returned his attention to the boy who was now staring at him through tearfilled eyes. Eyes that were just as bloody as the massacre around them as if he had soaked up everything that had been spilt. The pain there Will could not find an ending to, it fell so deep. All Will could think to do was pull his cloak from his shoulders and hold it out to the boy.
The savage gaze only stared at him. There was no movement and after long enough to cause Will's arm to hurt and him to shiver, he stepped closer and draped it over the boy's shoulders. Will had no words. He didn't know what would be appropriate to say in such a situation.
Shouts somewhere behind him, over the ridge, were godsent. Will didn't think he could be happier to hear the guards chasing after him. He was out of his depth and he knew that he wouldn't be in trouble if they found this mess. Will would be the least of the king's worries.
"Prince William!"
"Here!" Will called. "I'm over here! I need help!"
The man who came over the top of the hill first was holding a torch. He was a face that Will had come to recognize. Will had found that this particular guard was far more pleasant to speak to than the others. He was broad and heavy, but would be strong enough to carry whoever Will had found in the snow back to the castle.
"Jack, we need to get him back to the castle," Will instructed, pointing to the boy in the snow. Jack looked as if he were about to snap back, but when his gaze fell on the child, he was silent. The only thing Will received was a nod in understanding.
Will didn't need to be told where to go or what he would be doing. He began the walk through the storm towards Jack who motioned him towards another guard who wrapped Will up in his own cloak. He was immediately warmed by the fur. A hand took his shoulder in a firm grip to make sure that he didn't run as he was lead back in the direction of his home, but he couldn't help but look back at the screams that came from the boy.
"No!" It shattered the air around Will and Will's chest ached with it. "No!"
"Your Highness, please. We need to get you out of the storm."
"No!"
The castle, while chilly, was far warmer than the outside world and Will clutched the cloak around him as he was marched towards the throne room where his parents were no doubt waiting for him. Will glanced over his shoulder to where the boy he had found had fallen silent, being pulled along by Jack.
His feet were pink and bare and his night clothes were dirty and torn. His cheeks were hollow and his skin sickly. He was a walking corpse. How long had he been out in that storm? Will couldn't guess, but it must have done something to the boy because Will could no longer tell that he had been crying. His face was stone, blank. Only his eyes still screamed out in pain over the girl that had been left lying in the snow to be blanketed until there was a better time to retrieve her.
She had to have been important to him if he had been that emotional over it all. Will supposed she was a sister. It felt like the best guess. Will didn't have any siblings, but he guessed that that would be the only relationship that would cause so much pain. His sister was killed possibly in front of him or he found her and he killed his father's men.
It made perfect sense in Will's head, but he had always been rather good at guessing at things. The endings of books or the answer to riddles or jokes. Sometimes he was asked to entertain during parties his parents threw because he could look at a stranger and he was able to just read them, tell their whole life story with just a look.
Something about this kid though; Will couldn't place it. The scene was easy enough to piece together, but this boy was vacant. Nothing more to read than a protective brother who had something precious stolen from him.
The room fell silent and Will watched his mother's mouth fall slack and her hand swiftly cover it at a gasp. Her grey eyes were wide and she looked to Will's father who had straightened up in his chair as if this were the first interesting thing that had happened all day. Will was surprised to see his mother get to her feet, the fabric of her dress fanning out around her as she stepped forward.
"What happened?" she asked, turning back to look at the king as if he could supply the answer she was seeking.
"William," his father said in a deep voice that was slurred slightly with alcohol. "Would you care to explain what happened?"
Will blinked, his tongue licking his lips as his mind raced for an answer. He looked to his left where the kid was shivering beside him before finally turning his attention back to his father. "I-I heard something," he lied with a nod. He could feel those bloody eyes snap to him, though the boy stayed silent. "I heard screaming and so I went to go see what it was. I'm sorry. I didn't think to tell anyone."
"Are you alright?" the queen questioned, looking between the two children in front of her, her heart pounding.
"Yes, Mother," Will replied with a nod. "Just cold."
"You could have gotten lost in that storm!" she scolded, though there wasn't much bite to it. Her concern was firmly placed on the stranger. "What is your name?" The boy didn't answer. He stayed absolutely silent, staring daggers at the woman. Will's brow furrowed as he tried to come up with a time when someone had not answered his parents when a direct question was given, but he came up empty.
"Your queen asked you a question," Jack pushed sternly, giving the boy a small shove forward. The scowl shot at Jack would have slain him on the spot if it were possible.
"That's Count Lecter's boy," Will's father offered out with a wave of his hand as if the information should have been known by all in the room. "Crawford, please send someone to go check their home for his parents. They will surely want to collect their son."
The queen folded her arms over her chest with a huff. "We'll get you cleaned up. You look absolutely frozen solid. You too, Will. I'll send Alana to draw you a bath. Once you're both warm and clean there will be food for you. Alana." The queen motioned towards the two boys and a young woman with dark hair rushed forward, ushering the two boys away.
Will wasn't able to catch anymore of the conversation, but the way his parents traded looks told Will that they were both distraught and unsure of the correct way to proceed. Will also knew that there was going to be more said when the doors shut and Will wished he could stay to hear what Jack was going to tell them. Will wanted to know what his father's men were doing out in the middle of a storm with two children.
"Don't worry," Alana said soothingly. "We'll make sure you're warm in no time. And we'll get you some new clothes."
Alana didn't seem at all perturbed by the amount of blood that caked his skin and the red watery footprints left behind from the snow melting off their clothes. She simply undressed him and Will tried not to stare at the bruising and welts that littered his skin like the snow outside. Water was being brought in with buckets by maids and Will wandered over to the window to watch the snow fall and allow the kid behind him some privacy.
"Frederica, can you fetch the doctor please?' Alana instructed one of the other maids in the room. The coil curled red headed woman, who Will did not enjoy being anywhere near as he found her voice and presence grating and tiresome, left the room without a word to do as she was told. "And as for you." Will glanced back towards Alana who was helping the stranger into the tub. "If I so much as catch wind that you are going to jump the castle wall again, I will be the one coming after you. Not your father. And I can guarantee that he is far kinder than I will be. Do I make myself clear?"
She didn't have to look at Will for him to know that the threat held weight. He met those bloody eyes that held the slightest hint of curiosity in them before he answered.
"Yes, Alana."
"Good." She stepped back, hands on her hips and Will returned his attention outside. He couldn't see the cabin from here, but he swore that the red of the spilt blood was all that blanketed the world beyond him. No more white, only scarlet falling from the sky. "Now, what is your name?"
No reply came and Will found himself rather curious for the answer as well. Will turned back to look at the stranger, taking in the view of him. Blonde hair that hid away those dangerous eyes in that skeletal face. Will had never seen the boy before, but he recalled the name his father had said. Count Lecter.
Count Giuliano had his title passed down for many generations. Will hadn't been forced to study that far back, simply the families within the court as they were the important ones that he could be ruling over someday. But the Lecter's held old wealth. Count Giuliano married Madame Simonetta Sforza-Lecter. She had been from Italy.
They had two children. A boy and a girl. Will searched the confines of his mind for the names. He could remember the day he had been taught this information vividly. He could even see the paperwork laid out in front of him. The swoosh and swirl of the hand written records.
Mischa came into view first and Will flinched as a young blonde girl with her insides spilling out of her, stood beside her older brother who was being washed. Her fingers gripped the edge of the tub, leaving copper behind.
Will blinked and the girl vanished, leaving a pushing Alana and the silent boy in the tub. The boy with the very strange name.
"Hannibal," Will offered out and Alana's badgering fell silent. Hannibal's brows rose in what Will assumed was surprise. "His name is Hannibal Lecter. He's the son of Count Giuliano."
Alana's grin was bright. "It looks to me like your studies are paying off, William. Best to keep them up, even if you don't understand the importance of them."
"Yes, Alana." Will didn't agree in the slightest. His mind was already searching for his next exit attempt, but he supposed it could wait until later. At least until the worst of the winter storms had passed. Not to mention he was far too curious about Hannibal Lecter and the scene he had come across to run away now.
Hannibal was finished being cleaned and shown away to be looked over by the royal doctor and Will was promptly bathed as well. He couldn't deny the way he enjoyed his fingers and toes coming back to life in the warmth of the freshly fetched water and it occurred to him that he didn't know how to fetch or hear water for a bath. That was something to add to the list to learn before he left.
"Will, could you go to the dining hall please?" Alana asked as Will exited the bathroom fully dressed, curls still damp against his cheeks. "When Hannibal is done being examined I will escort him there."
Will simply nodded, not missing the way Hannibal's eyes dug into him as he left the room. There was anger in the heat from them and Will was left to wonder if the anger was towards him or what had happened.
The halls of the castle all looked the same and if Will hadn't grown up in these halls he was certain he would have been long lost to the labyrinth. But the dining hall was easily found and Will pushed open one of the heavy double doors.
"-are dead," Jack's voice echoed somewhere from inside.
"The Count and Countess?" Will heard his mother ask before he found himself fully in the room, causing all those within to fall silent and stare at him. His father sat at the head of the table, his mother on his right. Jack was beside his father's chair, cloak still dusted with snow. Will stepped further into the room, closer to the table littered with food that smelled heavenly and made his stomach ache.
Will carefully noted Jack's nod in answer.
"We will finish this discussion later," the king announced. "And I want a full inquiry done into why my men were out in that storm with those children. I expect that to be something you can handle, Crawford."
"I will handle it promptly, Your Majesty." Jack gave a bow before passing by Will with a sharp look and heading for the door. Will couldn't place if the look was meant to tell him that he was in trouble or that he was lucky something bigger had come up to take the light off of him. Whatever it was, he was more than happy that his mother deemed his running away not important enough to be spoken about for the time being.
"Come eat, dear," her gentle voice instructed and Will's chair beside her was pulled out for him. He sat in it and it was pushed closer to the table. "Your father and I still need to discuss the details, but I believe that the Lecter boy-"
"Hannibal," Will corrected.
"Hannibal," his mother said slowly with a nod. "Yes. That Hannibal will be staying with us for the time being. Until we can find a family member who can take care of him and we fully understand what happened."
"He is in your charge."
Will's brows furrowed at his father's words and Will stared at the food that was being put on his plate. He didn't want to watch after Hannibal. Not in the slightest. He had better things to do than keep this random stranger that now resided in his house. He didn't even like to follow the rules, how was he meant to make Hannibal obey them?
He had research to do. He had planning and packing and he-
"Is that understood?"
"Yes," Will answered with a nod. "I will look after him."
"Good. That is settled then."
Will let the room fall into tense silence that was only broken up by the sound of cutlery on dishes as he tried to eat. Will's fork tried to pick up a piece of chicken but the moment he stabbed the meat blood poured from it. Will gasped, heart jumping into his throat and his fork clattered to the table loudly.
"William?" his mother asked and Will looked up at her concerned face before returning his gaze to the bloodless plate before him. "Are you alright?"
"Crawford told me that there was a lot to see when he found you," Will's father said. "Would you like to discuss what you saw out there?"
Will did his best to control his breathing, his heart still thudding away in his chest like the pounding of horses' hooves. He licked his lips and opened his mouth to answer, but he was saved as the dining hall's door opened again and Alana guided Hannibal in.
Hannibal was put together quite well and wore money beautifully. He had been born into it after all. Hannibal honestly wasn't much different than Will, other than the title that came with his name. Hannibal could be a prince. He looked a prince and he held himself like royalty as he sat across from Will at the dining table.
Will met those eyes that sat in a hollow face. There was still anger deep in them. Dark and twisted and pointed towards Will. Hannibal was angry at Will, though Will struggled to find a valid reason why. Will had, by no intent of his own, saved Hannibal's life. Even if Hannibal had kept himself alive for as long as he did, there was no way that Hannibal would have survived in the winter much longer alone.
But maybe that was the anger. Will had taken him from death's grip and a tight grip it must have been if Hannibal had been seen by their doctor and was being given something to eat other than their meat and potatoes. Bread and a broth it looked like, as if his body couldn't handle anything more.
Maybe Hannibal had wanted to die right there. Maybe Will had stolen that from him. Maybe Hannibal wanted to be with the rest of his family. He had certainly cried for his sister fiercely. Maybe he had wanted to go with her and Will had taken that right away from him by stumbling upon him.
It was the only possible explanation that Will could find that was plausible. Especially since now Will knew Hannibal's entire family was dead. Did Hannibal know? He must have known. How could he not? The darkness in those eyes told Will that Hannibal had seen more than he was ever meant to and that everything he had witnessed had changed something fundamentally inside of him. He was not the same Hannibal he had been and he would never be the same Hannibal again.
"Hannibal, I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news for you," Will's mother said from her spot beside Will, but Will didn't look away from Hannibal. If the announcement was unknown then Will wanted to see if the shock of it wormed its way onto Hannibal's stone cold features. "We sent someone to check on your household and it seems that your parents have both passed on. We offer our deepest sympathies."
No answer. No reaction. No flinch, no twitch, no nothing. It was maddening the way that Hannibal pulled at the bread before him and dipped it into his broth before bringing it to his mouth and chewing slowly, nothing registering.
It must have struck the queen as off as well, because she cleared her throat hesitantly and proceeded. "Our home will remain open to you until we are able to locate other members of your family."
Still nothing. Absolute silence like he had forgotten how to speak. He simply continued dipping chunks of bread into the steaming broth before him and Will chewed on his tongue as he watched. Hannibal's fingers tore into the bread and fresh blood covered them, getting under his fingernails and dripping to the table top.
"He hasn't spoken a word since he was brought in," Alana said politely from where she stood at the edge of the dining hall. "Perhaps he needs time to process."
"Will, can you show him to his chambers when you're both finished with your meals?" the king questioned, the offense clear in his tone.
Will tore his eyes from the crimson mess Hannibal was making with his bread and nodded. "Yes, Father."
"Good. And in the morning have him attend your classes with you if he is deemed fit for it. I want the doctor to look over him in the morning."
"I will have him on standby," Alana said.
The unsettled silence returned and Will found that when he looked back to Hannibal, his hands were clean and his nails and the table void of any blood whatsoever.