"Of course," Hannibal said, bowing lowly for Will. He knew that the motion would only cause that much more distance and distaste between them, but Will was correct. Hannibal had been in no place to interrupt such an altercation, even if it was the correct thing to do. He held no power here. He had no title, no land, just a station in the king's army. He was not above Will in any sense of the word and the weight of that reality had never been so heavy before. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I will excuse myself for the evening. Call on me if you need me."
Hannibal straightened himself up from the bow, a frown on his face when he was met with a bubbling rage behind Will's stone cold features that were suddenly so much sharper than they had been minutes before.
Hannibal strode past Will without another word, sending an apologetic look towards the duke before he left the room. He could hear footsteps trailing behind him, though he didn't dare turn around to see who they belonged to. They didn't belong to Will, that much he was certain of.
His fingers struggled with the fabric around his neck, pulling it loose from the tight and choking grip it held. It had been so long since he had worn proper garb that he felt strangled in it. It was too tight, unable to breathe, too heavy. He needed out of it. Needed an escape.
He had made a mistake tonight, one he knew would be reprimanded and most likely in front of the other courtiers and subjects so that Will could make his point. It was what any ruler would do, should do. Hannibal knew he had over stepped, knew it wasn't his place to speak, but he had been wronged too in this situation. He had been part of it as well, and if the duke's hand was anything to go off of, they had all become victims in the acts that they had danced through. Hannibal deserved just as much say in the matter as Will did. He believed he held the same level of anger towards the duke that Will did. The only difference was their placement on the food chain.
For now, the energy drumming through him was loud and demanding and before he knew it, his feet were taking him outside and into the night, towards the barracks where whoever was left of his men would be waiting.
Even the footsteps behind him finally caught up, both Brian and James trying to gain his attention. He ignored their calls of his name and their attempts at explanation for the king's harshness. It wasn't until Hannibal reached the weaponry, pulled the expensive fabric from his body and had a sword in hand did he finally turn to look at his friends.
"I am not in the mood for excuses," he stated firmly, cutting the two men off. "Now, either scrimmage with me or find Brown so he can fight me." Both Brian and James stared at Hannibal for a long moment, James with his mouth open as if he were searching for something to say and Brian with arms folded over his chest in annoyance at the sharpness of the orders. "I am still your commander. Either pick up a weapon or find me Brown."
"Bastard," Brian grumbled, heading into the weaponry shed and finding his own sword. Hannibal watched as the man tested the weight in his hand before he started off towards the patch of grass their normal bats were conducted on.
Hannibal followed after the dark haired man, surprised when James hurried after the two of them, having found his own sword.
The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the field and glinting gold off their blades. Hannibal's feet found solid purchase and he stretched out his shoulders and rolled his neck, steadying the grip on his sword.
"You're finally back and what do we do?" James mocked with a roll of his eyes. "We fight because you can't learn to stay in your place."
"Ready?" Brain questioned, his own irritation edged in his voice and the glare of his eyes.
"Always ready," Hannibal announced. "Let us see if you two jackasses have learned anything new since I've been away." The first blow was swift, sending a clattering sound into the sunset and a thudding through Hannibal's heart. He caught the downward slash from James above his head and a laugh burst from him. "You're stronger, I'll give you that, Jimmy."
Brian darted towards them, searching for an opening and Hannibal shoved James away from him to parry the strike Brain threw at him. The force of the blow sent vibrations up his arm, but he held firm, the weight of the blades demanded the full grip of both of Hannibal's hands, these swords not meant for this type of fight. But Hannibal didn't care. If he could release some of this pent up energy coursing through him, he would.
James, seeing his chance, lunged at Hannibal, aiming for his exposed side. Hannibal barely managed to block the blow, the impact driving him to one knee. With a grunt of effort, he twisted his body, using his momentum to knock James off balance. The younger knight stumbled but quickly regained his footing, his weapon ready for another assault.
Brian, as Hannibal had learned, was one never to miss an opportunity. He thrust towards Hannibal's legs and and Hannibal leaned back, barely avoiding the strike. The sword hit empty air with a woosh. Hannibal swung his sword in a wide arc, forcing both Brian and James to retreat momentarily.
Hannibal rose to his feet, ignoring the other soldiers who were appearing from their rooms to watch what was happening. The ring of metal on metal was unmistakable and Hannibal didn't blame curiosity getting the better of them.
Breathing heavily, the three knights circled each other, sweat dripping down their faces. A dull pain in Hannibal's cheeks drew his attention to a smile he hadn't noticed he had been wearing, but god, it felt good.
"Is this the best the king's personal guards can do?" Hannibal taunted with a breathy laugh. A stitch was beginning to form in his ribs, breathing hurting, but he didn't care. He hadn't felt this at home in a long time.
James roared in response, charging forward with renewed vigor. He swung his sword in a powerful overhead strike. Hannibal sidestepped, the sword burying itself in the ground. He used the opening to deliver a swift kick to Brian's side, sending him sprawling.
Brian, seizing the moment, sprang forward, his sword flashing in the dying light. Hannibal stopped the first strike but was caught off guard by the second, the blade slicing a shallow cut across his arm. He hissed in pain but didn't falter, using his sword to drive Brian back as blood slicked his hold.
With James momentarily down and Brain retreating to reassess his strategy, Hannibal took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next round. "You'll have to do better than that," he ridiculed, though his voice held a note of genuine respect for his comrades' skill.
James, now back on his feet, nodded to Brian and Hannibal recognized the silent agreement passing between them. They charged together, coordinating their attacks with practiced ease. Hannibal found himself hard-pressed to fend off the flurry of strikes, his sword a blur as he blocked and countered.
They pushed each other to their limits and it wasn't until Hannibal's sword, slick with blood, slipped from his hand and two blades pointed at him, that they finally separated. Each breathed heavily, chests heaving. They stood, weapons lowered, breaking into laughter in turn.
"Good fight," Hannibal called, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I needed that."
"We all did." Brian scooped Hannibal's lost blade from the ground and held it out to Hannibal, who took it with a grin.
"You should get that cleaned up. Looks nasty," James said, pointing to Hannibal's bicep that was still bleeding freely.
"It doesn't even hurt," Hannibal excused, trudging his way through his men who stared at him wide eyed as if they had seen a ghost. He paid no mind to the gaping as he used his tunic to clean the blood from the sword and return it to its home in the weaponry. "Anyone want a drink?"
"Not you," a firm voice interrupted and Hannibal sighed, turning to come face to face with Beverly who had her arms folded over her chest and her spine stiffly straight. "You are coming with me."
"The hell I am," Hannibal grumbled. "I'm not going back to kiss royal ass." He took a deep breath and stepped closer to Beverly who didn't budge. Her brows raised in challenge. "If he's going to publicly punish me, I am not returning tonight."
"You were out of line," Beverly defended. Her eyes darted around at all of the men and she rolled her eyes at the unwavering attention on them. "You are not needed for this conversation. Return to your barracks." The night was quiet, unmoving until Beverly threw her arms to her side and shouted a strong: "Now!"
The men scrambled to obey, something in a woman's voice always far more terrifying than a man's, though no man would ever admit such a thing.
"Not the two of you." She pointed to Brian and James who had attempted to get lost in the crowd and Hannibal couldn't help but grin at how sheepishly they turned back around. "You both get your asses back to the palace this moment. You are the king's personal guard, not common knights."
Brian and James once more traded knowing looks before they returned their weapons to the shed and began the walk back to the palace, voices low in conversation. It wasn't until Hannibal and Beverly were alone that she spoke again.
"You are going to return to the palace and you are going to apologize and accept your punishment exactly as any other loyal subject would."
"You do not get to tell me what to do here," Hannibal said, his hands clenched into fists at his side. "You are not-"
"You are legally not welcome in this country. Do not tell me what I can and cannot do. I am above you here, even if you are the king's paramour." Beverly's eyes cut sharply as they stared daggers. "How dare you make him look weak and small in front of his people? How fucking dare you?"
"How dare I?" Hannibal scoffed, and stepped around her, heading for the well to fetch some water. Beverly followed after him, hiking her skirts into her hands to keep up with his wider gate. "Did you see what he did to that man?'
"That man," -Beverly spat bitterly- "was the man who sold you. You are not so thick as to not realize that. I know you aren't!"
"And what if he was the man who sold me? He has made amends and I have returned in one piece more or less." Hannibal lowered the ladle that was tied to the well into the water and brought it to his mouth, drinking deeply of the cool water. "There is no longer a need to torment him."
"That is not your decision."
Hannibal rolled his eyes and fetched another ladle full of water, pouring it into a cupped hand so he could wash the sticky sweat from his face and the back of his neck.
"I am not returning to the palace tonight."
"You do not have a choice. He has called for you."
"Tell him I respectfully refuse his request."
There was a deep sigh. "Then don't come back. We were doing fine without you here and you're not needed."
Hannibal let the ladle drop and turned back around to find Beverly looking utterly defeated. She held herself tightly in her arms and turned her back to Hannibal to start the walk back to the palace. Hannibal bit his lip, guilt twisting through him, though he couldn't bring himself to tear down his pride quite yet.
"He's broken, Beverly. I know you see it too."
"That does not change that he is the one on the throne. Not you nor I," she called over her shoulder. "The same way his father was before him and the mad king before that. He was hand chosen by God himself to rule and despite how hard you try, you are not above God."
Hannibal closed his eyes, his hands going to his head. He groaned, turning to kick the rocks of the well. This wasn't how this was meant to be. They weren't supposed to have gotten into a fight so quickly after his return.
But Beverly was right. If they wanted to keep the charade up, then Hannibal had to know his place. As much as he despised it, he needed to sit down and shut up. He was subject to the king and the king's wills and wishes. It did not extend the other way around.
Whatever was waiting for him back in the palace he had to face head on. It was his duty to the crown.
Hannibal inhaled deeply and followed suit, not bothering to gather up his discarded clothing. He couldn't stand being ensnared in those any longer. Perhaps the count was much further in Hannibal's past than he had previously thought.
The palace loomed above him, his boots echoing off the stone path as he entered the courtyard. Guests were taking their leave and walking past him with curious and questioning expressions, but the one that Hannibal was consumed with was the one that waited at the top of the stairs in the main hall.
Beverly stood beside Will, speaking to him, though Hannibal was too far away to make out what she was saying. Will only nodded in acknowledgement, blue intently locked on Hannibal as he made his way into the main hall.
Hannibal stopped at the foot of the stairs, chest rising and falling with his steady breath. He waited for the beckoning, but none came. Beverly was dismissed and Hannibal waited silently while the rest of the guests filtered out and into the night.
It wasn't until the hall was empty, save for the servants and guards, that Will finally spoke to him. Hannibal braced himself against whatever fury was coming for him, ready to bite his tongue to keep the peace.
"I had Alana draw you a bath in your room. There are fresh clothes and food there for you as well. I noticed you did not get the chance to eat. I will also have the physician sent to your room to look over your arm."
Hannibal tipped his head to the side, taken aback by the calm statement. He opened his mouth to speak, but finding any sense of language alluding him, he closed his mouth again. He nodded in acceptance and took an experimental step onto the first stair.
Will didn't wait for Hannibal. He turned his back and walked away, followed by Jack who looked like he had just childed Brian and James for their lack of professionalism during the night. They fell in step behind Jack.
Hannibal raced up the stairs. The confusion pushed him forward and he reached the top of the stairs in time to call after Will who was about to turn down his hallway and towards his chambers.
"Your Majesty." Hannibal noted the way Will's shoulders tensed at the honorific, but Hannibal was uncertain what would be the most appropriate way to broach the situation. "Is that all you called me for?"
"Not tonight," Will warned. A clear exhaustion was present when Will glanced over his shoulder and Hannibal bit his bottom lip. "I do not have the energy for a fight tonight."
"I don't want to fight."
Hannibal pushed himself forward, despite the wall he could feel Will put up. Will built it carefully, he always had, even when they were children. It was the strongest then. Thick and impenetrable, though Hannibal had been given grace to see around the stones now and then and he'd be damned if he was shoved from behind it now.
He held out his hand, palm up, begging that Will would take it like he had before his family's funeral. That Will would see that nothing between the two of them had changed. That they were both struggling and a touch lost, but that they had each other once more. They weren't alone anymore and would never be again.
Will's presence softened as blue washed over Hannibal. Hannibal could feel the waves enclose around him, sinking into his skin and down to his bones. It had been so long since Hannibal had seen that look. One of complete recognition of everything that Hannibal was offering to him and everything he was asking in return.
I just want to talk, Hannibal willed into the space separating them. I want to be a safe place for you. I want to be someone you can depend on and be proud of. I don't want to fight anymore.
Will glided easily through his guards until he was directly in front of Hannibal, eyes still locked firmly on Hannibal's hand. Hannibal hadn't realized until now that his palm was stained with blood. The same blood that he could see in the depths of Will's eyes now. A corruption that Hannibal had carved into his own soul when he was thirteen and failed his sister. The very corruption now muddying Will's soul. Two parts of the same whole together once again.
Will's hand was cold as it slid into Hannibal's, Will seeming unbothered by tackiness of the blood. His eyes flickered up to Hannibal's, warning Hannibal that this was a mistake. Hannibal could feel it seep into his being. The caution was blaring.
I am your nightmares and there will be no mercy for you. Run while you can.
"I will not sit idly by if you chastise me tonight. I am in no mood to be disrespected."
"I would never dream of disrespecting you," Hannibal assured, fighting the urge to brush back a wild curl from Will's face. This was not the time or the place.
"Jack," Will called, not tearing his eyes away from Hannibal. "Will you find Chilton and have him brought to the commander's room so he can be looked over?"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"Let's get you cleaned up." The words were soft as Will turned from Hannibal, though he didn't drop Hannibal's hand as they walked towards the hallway. "Once you have eaten, we will discuss everything. There are clearly pieces of stories we are both missing."
