The scrapping of a pen on paper sounded as Beverly crossed off yet another item from the inventory list held tightly in her grip. Hannibal pointed to another item on the ground that had been set out meticulously among the many other pieces of the wreckage that Edward, the Duke of Wessex, had brought to the palace. The entire throne room was littered with the items to the point where Beverly's dress continued to get stuck to them and the hem had even ripped.

"The only thing we're missing is the Mary Rose herself," Beverly mumbled, greatly vexed. She crossed another item off the list and Hannibal and Beverly moved onto the next trinket on the floor.

"Is there truly a point to going through everything here?" Hannibal asked, looking at what they had already categorized and the expansion still ahead of them. "We've been at it for hours and I promise that not one of those men cares about every spoon being present."

"This is what His Majesty wants done."

"He's only doing this to be petty. He doesn't need it done any more, now that I'm back," Hannibal tried to reason. "Edward doesn't need to be here any longer either. He should be allowed to return home. He didn't need to stay the night."

"This is what His Majesty wants done," Beverly repeated. She took another step and groaned as her skirt was once more snatched up, this time by the latch of a waterlogged chest that had only held a pair of worn boots in it. She ripped the fabric free and gasped as the tiny bottle of ink she had been holding as well tumbled from her fingers and down the front of her dress. "Right," she hissed.

Hannibal could only watch as she threw the pen and papers to the floor and angrily stomped on the bottle, causing it to shatter and black to leak to the objects around them. She stepped back, pulling her dress this way and that to take in the damage of her clothing and her face screwed up tightly as a tense breath was released.

"If you would excuse me from this absolutely pointless task to change, I will return shortly."

Hannibal did his best to hide his laugh behind a cough and he nodded. Beverly strode past him in a huff, her shoes clacking against the stone floor. Her skirt left a trail of fresh ink behind her and the men at the doors were swift to open them before she had the chance to yell the order.

Hannibal grinned and laughed to himself as he bent down to scoop up the pen and papers. Luckily the only one of the papers that had been tasted by the ink had been one they had already checked through completely.

"Can we get someone to clean this up, please?" Hannibal called around the room. "And someone else to make sure these items are put away. Ask His Majesty where he would like them to go."

A woman with insane red curls that Hannibal swore he remembered seeing when he was a child, stepped into action, heading for the same doors that Beverly had left through.

Hannibal carefully stepped around the puddle and looked at the list, making quick work of it. He supposed it helped having been on the ship for as many months as he had been. The mess was long cleaned and him through a decent part of the inventory when Beverly finally returned to the room.

Hannibal glanced up from the pages in his hand before returning to his work, noting the way Beverly stared at him and the amount of work he had gotten through alone. The only sound was her steps as she returned to his side.

"You're much better at this work than me," she admitted when she reached him. "I was not made to pour over documents."

"No. You were made to help run a kingdom," Hannibal offered, mentally checking off the next item on the list, having long since run out of ink. "I, however, was raised by my father. Which unfortunately," -Hannibal sighed heavily- "does make me made for this work."

Beverly laughed and turned in a full circle to take in the room. Hannibal smiled lightly. There was something nice in the woman's presence. They butted heads more often than not, but she was sincere in everything she did and she did it well. Nothing got past her. Each and everything in the palace had her touch on it and Hannibal would have thought her the rightful heir if he were a stranger.

That was what she had been carved into. A woman strong enough to stand among the men. Someone who could play the room to her advantage while still making the room feel like it was on top. She knew the rules and the loopholes and she was not afraid to exploit them and Hannibal held a deep respect for such a person. If she wasn't remembered in the history books right alongside Will, then history would have failed.

"I can finish this if you have other tasks that need doing," Hannibal said, stepping further along the line and comparing it to the page in his hand. "It shouldn't take me too much longer."

"I have a mountain of things to accomplish, but I can't bring myself to focus on any of them." Beverly meandered around the various items, keeping her skirt out of reach of prying hands. "I just keep waiting for a letter to show up. I feel like I can't breathe until it does."

"Margot?" Hannibal asked, flipping to the next paper in hand. Beverly hummed in answer. "There must have been a step I missed somewhere in there. When did you two have time to speak in private?"

"When she wasn't trapped beside Will." Something clanked and Hannibal jumped, turning to see Beverly nudging at dagger. It skittered across the stone floor and Hannibal winced at the unpleasant sound and chill that shot up his spine. "She hid from her brother every chance she could. I offered her my quarters so that he didn't know where she was."

"That was good of you."

"We would talk at night. All night. It was nice to have another woman to speak to who wasn't a servant. Someone who had seen a bit more of the world and learned more than others. She was a pleasure to talk to."

"Only talk to?" Hannibal mocked. Beverly leaned into him, knocking him off balance slightly and he laughed. "There's nothing wrong with only talking."

"I know." Beverly's sunny smile was bright. "You should have seen her in her wedding dress, Han. She was beautiful."

Hannibal's heart twinged painfully in his chest at the thought. How quickly he had sacrificed his wants for the kingdom, for Will. How swiftly he had passed the idea of seeing Will in his suit on their own wedding day, to allow him to marry another. He knew that their union would never see the light of day, but even the smallest of ceremonies held would have made Hannibal happy until his dying day.

And Beverly doing the same as Hannibal, letting duty and the good of the kingdom come before her own happiness. Of course, Margot and Will had been willing to sacrifice everything as well, but Hannibal couldn't be certain it compared. The two of them had been raised in a world where the expectation was an arranged and loveless marriage, whereas Hannibal had been ripped from that world and Beverly had probably stepped outside of it herself to do the work that had been put upon her shoulders without distraction.

Perhaps they were more alike than Hannibal had originally cared to think. Nobles destined to offer up until their hearts had fully stopped and not a moment before. Doing whatever was asked of them, with no hope of chasing their own lives, the dreams never having been dreamt because another's was far more important than their own.

"I can't begin to imagine," Hannibal answered, starting the last row of annoyance. "I fear that everyone in this country knows my story, but I don't have the same pleasure to know yours."

"Mine?" Beverly asked, a hand going to her chest. "There's nothing noteworthy."

"I highly doubt that." Hannibal flipped to the final page with a huff. "You speak better than half the men in court."

"You say that as if it were a challenge." The shot back at Hannibal caused him to smirk and shake his head. She swayed back and forth in thought for a moment and Hannibal let the silence sink in until she was ready to speak. "My father used to be one of Sanford's advisors before my mother got sick, and my mother was a lady-in-waiting for Theophania. I grew up in the courts and enjoyed listening to all the conversations around me. Adults seem to forget that children can understand everything they say. It was like I wasn't in the room. I was no more than a statue."

The feeling was something that Hannibal understood. His parents had their own parties and he heard the most outlandish gossip while he tried to keep his sister preoccupied and out of the sweets.

"I would repeat everything back to my parents and so they ensured I received the same formal education as Will." Beverly shrugged, her steps slow as she followed Hannibal. "I was tutored in languages, history, literature, and statecraft, music, dance, and etiquette. It was quite nauseating."

Hannibal snickered with a nod in agreement. "I seem to recall the same feelings."

Beverly waved his laughter away with her hand and shifted her skirts once more to not be caught again. "I personally did my best to avoid the women of the court. Their gossip was tiring. Thanks to my father's position I was able to engage with diplomats, military leaders, and scholars. I would often handle the family estate while he dealt with the king. Are you finished yet?"

Hannibal blinked at the sharp change in subject and lowered the paper he was looking at to meet Beverly's teasing expression. "Nearly. I'm just double checking to make sure we didn't miss anything."

"Heaven forbid we did."

"I do not want to deal with Will's unpleasantness if we did."

"I'm sure your mouth can take care of him just fine." Hannibal's eyes grew wide at the snark and he blinked at the woman who clasped her hands behind her back innocently. She shrugged, skirt still swinging back and forth as she swayed. "Is there a problem?"

"Not in the slightest," Hannibal assured. He cleared his throat and was swift to bury his nose back in the paperwork. "You said your father left when your mother grew ill?"

"Yes. A little after the funeral, actually. He stepped down and returned to our estate to care for her. Sandford formally asked me to step into the role. The whispers around the court were venomous. Men were envious and women spread rumors around that I had been the King's mistress, as if that were the only possible reason that I was offered the position."

Hannibal did stop his work then. The papers lowered to his side and he tipped his head to the side to take in the young woman in front of him. An idea so devastating would have never crossed his mind. Especially if Beverly's age when he had seen her all those years ago was anything to go on. The damage such rumors could have done to her reputation, destroying not only her and her future prospects, but also her family's name.

"I'm sorry that happened to you. That is highly prejudiced and unfair."

Beverly scrunched up her nose in dislike. "Sanford was not enough to tempt me to such debauchery."

The rumors must not have stuck or the time had been sufficient enough for them to fade because Hannibal could see no such lingering damage done. She still stood here, good name still in place and at the King's side.

"Anyway," she said, giving Hannibal the excuse to return to his work. "I continued school and did my best to be there for Will after Theophania asked me to on her deathbed, but eventually I had to stop my schooling when the war with Spain broke out. There was too much work to take care of and now I am a glorified maid."

Hannibal didn't care if the rest of the items were on the list. It didn't matter in the slightest. But he was grateful for the insight into Beverly. It only made his regard for her that much higher.

"Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for listening."

Hannibal cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from Beverly, only to focus on a candlestick holder at the far end of the room. He waved the papers about and they fluttered. "Everything is accounted for. Let that poor son of a bitch go home. I doubt he will have the nerve to bother us again."

"I will be more than happy to put all of this behind us finally."

"Let's hope Will will do the same."

Hannibal trailed after Beverly, giving the order to have the rest of the items cleared off the floor and put wherever the rest of anything and everything had been stashed. Only Will and God knew where that was. Hannibal thought the items useless, simply a matter of manipulation to hold over the duke. Pent up anger that had yet to be relieved.

"It will be nice to step down a little, in all honesty."

"Step down?" Hannibal asked, handing the papers to Beverly who scooped them up and began to organize them most likely for Will to see.

"When your titles are reinstated, I was under the impression that you were going to be taking up the advisory role," Beverly explained simply. "It would allow me the chance to go home and take care of my mother for a while. I would like to be there for her before the end, if that makes sense."

"Of course it does," Hannibal agreed through a lump that had formed in his throat. He had not considered the idea that Beverly would be shuffled to the background. He thought that they were going to be sharing the responsibilities, part of his reasoning behind getting to know her. If he was going to work side by side with her, then he needed to learn how to work and not fight. Could he handle taking on that much responsibility? Correspondence and state matters, the art of diplomacy and the intricacies of court politics, and the handling of a diplomatic crisis felt daunting now.

They were so far outside of Hannibal's wheelhouse that he wished he were back in a tent in Madrid, being eaten alive by bugs in the heat of the summer. His mind had been twisted to handle battle strategies and come up with quick solutions in war. He doubted he would be of any help with actual insightful analysis and negotiation skills that would certainly be of crucial and critical importance.

"You will do fine," Beverly assured, her hand taking Hannibal's forearm and bringing their walk to a pause. He looked down at her, hating her knowing smile as she gave his arm a squeeze. "You will find it again. I doubt the court is horribly different from a battlefield. The only difference is that you're using your words and wit instead of a sword and your big head."

Beverly pulled from his grip and turned towards the main hall, heading in the direction of the stairs, leaving Hannibal feeling stiff and uneasy at the realization setting in.

"His Majesty will want you in the gardens for lunch," Beverly called back to him, though she didn't turn. "I would suggest being on time."

The sun bathed the royal gardens in a golden light, casting dappled shadows on the path Hannibal walked. He didn't need to be told where to find Will. The words from the beginning of the summer echoed in his mind.

I can show you the pear tree that my mother planted.

That felt so long ago now as his boots crunched on the gravel walk.

Hannibal could see the gnarled branches sprawling like the fingers of an ancient sage into the sky, cradling clusters of verdant leaves that rustled gently in the breeze. As summer waned, the blossoms had transformed into golden pears, their skins blushing with a sweet promise.

Waiting for him beneath the tree, looking rather enraptured with some parchment, was Will. He was munching mindlessly on a fresh pear, his fingers glistening with sticky juices that he didn't acknowledge. A blanket beside him was spread with a simple but elegant lunch and Hannibal smiled when he noticed the way that Brian and James were eyeing the food, clearly not having been relieved from their duties for lunch yet.

Hannibal cleared his throat and Will's gaze flickered up to him, eyes still swirling with whatever world they had been in before they cleared in recognition. Will motioned for Hannibal to join him and Hannibal lowered himself to the ground across from Will, noting the odd sort of tension that hung in the air.

Will folded up the parchment and shoved it under his legs in a way to tell Hannibal that he wasn't hiding it, just saving it for later. Though, whatever the contents were, they held Will captive in a deep rigor and clunky movements. Hannibal supposed he could pry later.

"Beverly told me that you both made it through the paperwork from this morning," Will announced before taking another bite of his pear. "Without so much as a fight."

Hannibal thought over the morning and nodded in agreement. He snatched up a piece of bread and a wedge of cheese, putting them together and taking a bite before answering.

"I think she took out her frustration on an ink bottle instead of me," Hannibal teased. He loved the way that a grin pulled at Will's lips, the scarring not looking nearly so harsh when next to an emotion so happy. "Has she spoken to you about her plans?"

"Plans?" Will asked, tossing aside the core to his pear and finally wiping his hand off on a cloth.

"Once I step into the advisory role, she was hoping she could go home to take care of her mother before she passed."

Will's hand paused in search for his goblet of wine and Hannibal watched the conflict dance across the king's face. The need of having her stay and the want of being a good friend and letting her leave played heavily there.

"I will have to take that into consideration," was Will's muttered answer. He was swift to hide behind his wine and Hannibal took the opportunity to finish his next bite before gathering up some food to pass to Brian and James. "They're on duty," Will scolded gently, drink being set down.

"They're hungry," Hannibal defended. Both James and Brian stared at Hannibal's outstretched offering until Will rolled his eyes and nodded his approval. Both men were swift to seize up the bread and meats before returning to their attention.

"Even if you become my advisor, these actions will not be acceptable." The clarification was not said rudely in the slightest, simply factual and measured. Hannibal's attention was pulled from the strawberry he had reached for by Will's hand taking his. "I will listen to what you have to say, but the final decision must be mine. I need this to be understood absolutely before we move forward."

Hannibal inhaled deeply and nodded. There was a proper way to go about this. He wasn't in a war camp and making sure everyone was fed and taken care of before he was. He was not in charge. He had someone to answer to now. Someone whose situation depended upon it.

"It is imperative that you do not allow your heart to be outspoken," Will pressed on, sending Hannibal's stomach fluttering lightly when his thumb caressed Hannibal's hand. "When it is just us, I welcome all of you. But if we are not alone, then I need your quiet guidance and immediate obedience. Am I making myself understood?"

"Yes." Hannibal squeezed Will's hand in reassurance. "I will work on not stepping on your toes."

"Thank you." Will returned the hand squeeze before releasing Hannibal's hand. Hannibal's hand immediately felt empty and cold and he struggled to return to what he was doing beforehand, dropping the strawberry a few times before finally getting a good hold on it.

They ate in silence for a few moments, the rustling of the pear tree leaves the main sound save for the tumbling of a fountain in the center of a maze that Hannibal doubted either of them would want to traverse ever again. Honestly, as he put thought into it, Hannibal wasn't sure why they were eating beneath the pear tree. As far as he knew, it was Theophania who had planted the tree, not Elizabeth.

Will's brow furrowed and Hannibal knew instantly that the king's mind was elsewhere instead of on the meal in front of them. Hannibal's hand tightened around his goblet, mind racing in an attempt to find the best solution to ease Will's discomfort despite the fact that he had no idea what the cause was.

"Whatever the issue is, you can tell me," Hannibal said, causing Will to start. Startled eyes met Hannibal's and his chest ached. "What's wrong, Will?"

Will sighed and cleaned his hands on the cloth from earlier before he tossed it ungracefully aside. He reached under him and pulled out the parchment that he had been preoccupied with earlier and held them across the spread. Hannibal took them, finding sprawling writing and a family crest, big and bold.

Will's voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the storm of emotions he kept hidden. "I'm sorry to say that I believe I am in need of your father's wisdom at the moment."

"My father's?" Hannibal clarified, setting his wine down to better handle the pages. He had a sneaking suspicion he already understood exactly what Will was meaning, but he straightened the papers and began reading the letter, mumbling it under his breath to make sure he was able to grasp the entirety of it.

To His Royal Majesty, King William of Britain,

Greetings to you. It is with a heavy heart that I pen this letter, yet circumstances necessitate a direct and unvarnished communication between our thrones.

It has come to my attention, through sources I deem highly reliable and beyond reproach, that your claim to the throne of Britain and its territories is tainted with the most grievous stain: illegitimacy. Such a revelation, should it reach the ears of the nobility and the common folk, would undoubtedly shake the very foundations of your reign, casting a shadow of doubt and unrest over your kingdom.

I need not elaborate on the chaos that such a revelation would unleash—nobles vying for power, factions forming to challenge your authority, and the trust of your subjects eroding like sand before the tide. The stability and prosperity of Britain, which you have worked to cultivate, would be irrevocably compromised.

However, there exists a path by which this knowledge can be kept in the dark recesses of secrecy, known only to you and me. My silence, however, is not without price. I demand certain concessions that will benefit my own kingdom of German Lands. These demands are non-negotiable and must be met promptly to ensure our mutual peace and continued alliance.

Firstly, I require the cession of the territories of Newfoundland and The Pale of Calais, as well as any claim you have in the new world. These lands, rich in resources and strategically vital, will strengthen my kingdom and serve as a gesture of goodwill and submission on your part.

Secondly, I expect a yearly tribute of gold and silver, the exact amount to be discussed in a private council, as a token of your appreciation for my discretion and restraint.

Lastly, you will pledge your undying loyalty to German Land, agreeing to support us in all future conflicts, be they diplomatic or martial. This alliance will ensure that our kingdoms remain united and formidable against any external threats.

Failure to comply with these demands will force my hand, leaving me no choice but to disclose the truth of your birth to the world. I trust you understand the gravity of your situation and the wisdom in acceding to my terms.

I await your response with great interest. Remember, the future of your reign and the peace of your kingdom rest upon the decisions you make in the coming days.

With regards,

King Mason of German Land

Hannibal read it several more times before he set the papers into his lap and met Will's gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. It was time for him to set aside the armor and the sword and embrace everything that his childhood had taught him, though he found himself lacking with any sort of direction.

If only his father were still here then perhaps they wouldn't be caught so deeply in this mess. Count Lecter would have known exactly what to do. Their only saving grace had been the war with Spain that had distracted everyone enough to allow Will and Hannibal to bide their time, but now the transgressions of a previous generation were knocking again and demanding attention.

"Are you…" Hannibal swallowed and licked his dry lips, trying to organize his thoughts into something coherent. "Are you willing to entertain the possibility of meeting these demands?" He reached for his drink, hoping it would help dispel the lump in his throat.

"That is where I am hoping to find your intellect. I cannot, in good conscience, part with those territories. I cannot allow him access to any of our expansions or we risk being swallowed whole by his kingdom. But I also cannot afford to let this secret out." Will's hand went to his eyes and he rubbed them with a groan.

"I thought that you were once alright with your cousin-"

"That impotent glos pautonnier," -Hannibal choked on his wine at the ridiculousness of Will's French accented insult- "will never step foot in this palace."

Hannibal wiped the wine from his chin and set his drink aside, clearing his throat only to continue coughing with a hand over his mouth. He nodded, teary eyed when he was finally able to speak.

"Then I will put some thought into this and arrange the private council he requested." He folded up the letter, hating the crest that was in the wax seal. "Might I hold onto this?"

"Yes," Will said.

"And if you would let me depart, I would like to think about this in private while it is still fresh in my mind."

Hannibal didn't wait for an answer, simply stood. He dusted himself off, trying to ignore the surprise from Will's furrowed brows. He froze when Will reached out to him, but the hand was swiftly pulled back as if unsure of itself. Hannibal frowned, a small flood of guilt at his abruptness becoming a weight in his chest.

Hannibal glanced around the gardens and palace to make sure they were truly alone before he stepped over to Will. He held out his hand and Will took it, grip hesitant. Hannibal pulled Will to his feet and pushed Will up against the pear tree before the king had the proper chance to balance himself.

Will stared up at him, his eyes glistening with unspoken words. There was a moment, a heartbeat suspended in time, where the world seemed to hold its breath. Hannibal's hand brushed against Will's cheek, a fleeting touch that sent shivers down his spine. The corners of Hannibal's lips curved into a smile as he debated pushing in closer or pulling away.

As if compelled by a force beyond his control, he leaned in. The space between them vanished in an instant, and his lips found Will's in a tender, stolen kiss. The kiss was brief, a moment of intimacy in a world that demanded so much of them. It left Hannibal breathless, their foreheads touching, eyes closed, savoring the lingering sensation.