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A frigid wind whipped and wound its way through the dense forest, carrying unforgivingly sharp sleet with it. Almost purposefully, it made its way to the explorer and stung any skin that had the dissatisfaction of being exposed. Will tried to keep his exposed skin to a minimum, hugging the lapels of his coat against his chest while the wind seemed to want to spread and lift them away.
He should have expected Europe to be different from America but his thirst for exploration was too strong and his conscience would have killed him if he turned down the opportunity to attend Oxford University when the option arose. Once fall break crept upon him, he decided all the time he spent surrounded by city and students needed to be remedied by travel and isolation within the flora and fauna of a side of the world he had yet to appreciate.
Suffice to say, he underestimated how much trouble that idea would actually be.
Will was now holding Winston, the one canine allowed to join him in his travels, against his body in an attempt to keep himself and the dog warm. The packhorse walked beside him, relieved to not have to carry the man in addition to his belongings.
By now, Will would have set some form of shelter up but was drawn to a faint light that cut through the dark wood. He could only assume it was a warm house or cottage of some sort but was sorely mistaken as he got closer and found himself gaping at an immense, intimidating castle.
From a distance, the only thing visible to Will was the light through its window, but now, as the skies had gone completely dark, he realized the rest of the structure melted against the sky.
Though he knew it would be rude, he could not stop himself from finding the door and pushing it open, releasing the billowing warmth of fire onto his and his animal’s freezing forms. A healthy flush flooded his cheeks and he slipped inside, still holding Winston and unconsciously allowing the hard-working horse to join him.
He would have made his presence clear if he wasn’t so engrossed by the gorgeous interior of the titanic structure he found himself standing in. Following the warmth, Will met the mouth of a great fireplace and stood, observing the flame. Soothed by the fire, he barely reacted when a husky, foreign voice shattered the serenity of the moment.
“To whom do I owe the pleasure?” The comment was sarcastic, maybe even a warning. Will gathered that he was not welcome and quickly responded to save face.
“Erm, my apologies. I’m not a malicious intruder. I have no, uh- intent... aside from getting out of the storm.” The American failed to connect eyes with the owner of the castle; it was always a problem he had, even in the colonies. Instead, he found himself looking down at the intricate tiles below his feet, and through the windows at the branches of trees while they were jostled by the wind.
He failed to witness the owner when his head tilted at Will’s habit, expecting the American to be as brash and proud as stereotypes warned. Though privileged in his assumption that he’d be welcomed in Hannibal’s sanctuary, he was apologetic and self-aware.
Looking over his form, the man was visibly poor despite coming off as educated. Hannibal predicted Will’s coat was a fraction of the worth of one pair of socks in his property. He found that fact weirdly endearing, met eyes with his dog, and saw the horse standing in his living area dumbly.
“If you are to be staying here for the night, I will have to ask you to join me in taking that horse to the stables.”
Will finally looked towards the man and looked at the horse like he didn’t realize it had followed him inside. “o-Oh! I’m really sorry! I forgot I was leading him in, it’s just… your castle was so alluring, I went right inside.”
“No bother,” Hannibal insisted, chuckling to himself warmly and stepping down the stairs towards the fellow elegantly. The castle was meant to be drawing, after all.
Will’s pretty blue eyes landed on Hannibal for a brisk moment before flickering about like he had embarrassed himself in the gesture. Hannibal, to put simply, was someone Will never imagined himself speaking to: gentlemanly, graceful, expensive in taste. Sure, he went to Oxford and lived in London at the moment, but he’d never come into contact with someone so Victorian.
Hannibal got close enough for Will to smell his rich aroma. “Will you join me?”
How could Will say no?
/////
Once Will’s horse was put away and Winston chose to stick with the animal, he was lead back inside. Normally, Will wasn’t one for conversation but the long stretch of silence he and the older man had been sharing was borderline excruciating, so he spoke.
“You don’t sound British.”
“I am not.”
Will stared at the back of his head as he followed him, waiting for elaboration.
“My home country lacked the rich history England provides. I came for opportunity as a boy and stayed for aesthetics. I imagine your story is not dissimilar?”
The younger man nodded his head no, momentarily hypnotized by Hannibal’s voice. “It’s not.”
Hannibal smiled to himself, holding a candle to light his way through the dark halls.
“Not one for conversation?”
Will nodded his head no, not realizing Hannibal couldn’t see him do so.
Hannibal looked back for an audible response, caught Will’s final nod, and noticed when he glanced away sharply at Hannibal’s interest.
“Nor eye contact?”
“No.”
“I see.”
“No, no- it’s nothing personal, really. I’ve uh- … I’ve always had trouble with it. It’s not you, I swear.”
“I believe you, dear boy.”
Will relaxed.
“Though it is a shame, lovely eyes like yours should not be shrouded by insecurity.”
Said boy dwelled on Hannibal’s words for a few long seconds, debating whether his statement was insulting, flattering, or both. He decided on the latter when he couldn’t prevent a blush from flooding his pale cheeks.
Hannibal froze momentarily, taking in a deep, silent breath through his nose and closing his eyes in bliss.
“Um, Sir?”
He snapped out of it, correcting him politely. “Thank you for reminding me, we have yet to exchange names. I am Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”
“You’re a doctor?”
“Retired, then I joined the field of psychiatry.”
Will was visibly put off by that statement.
“Not inclined, I assume?”
“It’s not that. I’ve just known a lot of psychiatrists and, well, my experiences haven’t exactly been positive. It’s nothing you can help.”
Hannibal laughed in that sultry tone, “On the contrary, a former psychiatrist like myself is supposed to help.”
“Yeah, well I’m not interested. I came for warmth, not free psychiatric help, Dr. Lecter.”
His statement was sharp, even rude, but Hannibal couldn’t gather the impulse to do anything about it when the way Will said his name sounded so delectable.
“Fair enough, I should not have prodded. I realize the irony in my actions.”
The faint puff of an abortive laugh Will released was the only thing Hannibal needed to hear to know Will agreed.
“And your name? I’ve shared. Would you like to reciprocate?”
“Will Graham. Aristocratic than yours, I know.” His tone was degrading. Hannibal wouldn’t have that.
“Once again,” he chuckled, rounding a corner to reach the room he wanted Will to stay in that night, “I disagree. There is a humbleness in your name, like a welcoming, one-story cabin.”
Will didn’t have to debate whether or not he should be flattered, already looking down and smiling to himself, tucking a chocolate curl behind his ear timidly. “I appreciate your sentiment, doctor.”
Hannibal reached the door and opened it for the boy, witnessing his awe once he stepped inside, gaining sustenance from the look in those eyes.
“Self-condemnation is not a healthy trait, Mr. Graham. I realize you did not come for professional advice but I’d enjoy it if you thought better of yourself following your absence from my abode.”
Will nodded slowly, taking in Hannibal’s words before looking back at him. “Thank you for all of this.”
Hannibal smiled subtly, Will had to squint to notice the way his unique mouth tilted up on each corner but it meant all the same to him. “As I recall, I was not given much of a choice. Either I allow you to stay or I find you frozen to death a short distance from my castle when this storm subsides.”
Hannibal made a fair point.
“But I’m grateful our conversation has been genial in nature.”
The boy smiled and nodded in agreement, looking towards him for a final time before wishing him a good night and allowing Hannibal to close the door.
/////
Will stared up at the intricate detailing on the ceiling of his temporary bedroom. Though the castle was beautiful, he felt cold and alone. He bitterly wished he knew the halls of the castle better so he could find Winston and bring him back to his room but he didn’t want to risk coming off like a thief or getting lost. The beauty of the castle came with an old, eerie feel that was unshakeable.
After a few long moments, he realized how untired he felt. On top of that, his loneliness was soon taken away. In a normal situation, that would be a good thing but now was far from a normal situation.
Will was not pious but found himself praying anyway, silently murmuring the few lines he remembered when his father still had influence over his theism. With the prayer, he heard a sudden shuffle across his large room and shot up in bed. His not being alone was merely a theory, so he didn’t expect to actually have a visitor.
The shuffling stopped with his prayers and Will was left staring ahead into the dark. Either gratefully or ungratefully, the moonlight was illuminating his bedroom, allowing him to distinguish the human-sized mass of darkness across from him. He swallowed softly, heart pumping and pupils spread with adrenaline.
Without looking, he remembered the presence of a chamberstick on the nightstand closest to him and grabbed it slowly. Though it wasn’t an appropriate weapon, it was made of solid metal and had enough sharp edges in its design to allow decent damage.
“Dr. Lecter?” he breathed.
Silence.
The longer Will stared ahead, the faster he came to his conclusion. The telltale scent that invaded his nostrils was the same scent he had the pleasure of taking in a few hours prior. “I know it’s you, Doctor.”
The form seemed to relax.
Will nodded at the affirmation. “If you’ve decided my presence is no longer welcome, I can take my leave.”
“No,” he speaks at last, “I want you to stay.”
“I can do that too,” Will insists warily, “Why were you watching me?”
“You should drop the candlestick, Will.”
“Hannibal…”
“Put it down, please.”
Will swallowed, grip on the possible weapon loosening before he places it back onto the table.
“What are you afraid of, Will?”
“I-I don’t know.”
Hannibal begins approaching, moonlight catching his sharp cheekbones and refracting into his weirdly red-tinted eyes.
Will presses back against the headboard unconsciously but relaxes when he catches sight of those eyes. “I’m afraid of the cruelty in your eyes, I suppose.”
The older man’s invisible eyebrows raise in inquiry.
“But that cruelty is natural, always there; it’s nothing derived specifically from me.”
Hannibal somehow made it onto the bed without the boy noticing and was now within an appropriate distance to touch him.
“No,” Will continues, breathing out the syllable huskily, still looking straight into his eyes, “you like me too much, don’t you Doctor?”
“You’re sudden confidence could be harmful if misguided.”
Hannibal was now completely over him, a dark, suffocating mass.
Will’s lips twitched with words he wanted to utter: pleas for mercy and belligerent admonishments, none of them spoken. “It isn’t.”
A breath left Hannibal’s nose as he looked over Will’s features and leaned down to nose at his defined throat. As his heart hammered, his jugular protruded from thin, delicate skin. He smelled addictive.
“You’re right, dear Will. I have no cruelty in my heart in regards to you, but my inclination is just as dangerous.”
Chills rocketed down the boy’s arms. “I’m not afraid.”
Hannibal smiled faintly, having been nosing at one of his veins as Will insisted on his bravery. “Of course you aren’t.”
Slowly, Will found his hands sliding up Hannibal’s muscled, clothed back and tangling in ashen hair, staring up at the ceiling once again.
A sickening pop filled his ears, the sound giving way to a blooming pain that spread down his neck and shoulder. His mouth opened in a silent cry while he gripped the man’s hair tighter. In response, Hannibal’s own fingers tangled in the soft waves on the back of Will’s head and held it up throughout his brief feast.
Will’s grip loosened, the pain fading into warmth as blackness filled the edges of his vision.
Hannibal soon pulled away and invaded Will’s sights, a humble amount of blood dripping down his lips and chin as his chest heaved with exertion. His eyes were alight at that moment, a look Will recognized from his dogs when he allowed them fresh scraps of seasoned meat. Exhaustion settled in Will’s brain; he wouldn’t be conscious much longer.
As he began to doze, Hannibal’s broad hand cupped his cheek and stroked it with his thumb, occasionally catching on his stubble but not minding.
“You did well. For your sake, I will leave you for the night. Being with you any longer would be a danger.”
Will’s heart ached.
Hannibal lowered his head, combed over fringe now unruly as it tickled Will’s forehead when Hannibal kissed each brow.
When he pulled away, Will was asleep, the pure white pillow under his head stained by the deep scarlet of his blood.