Chapter Text
Will woke in the Fade, with flickering torchlight casting a warm glow from above. He was not lying on the marble floor, like the times before. He felt softness beneath his back; he was laid out upon a bed, his bare body draped with black silk sheets. His whole being seemed to be vibrating. Even his teeth were clacking. So out of sorts was he, it took a long moment before he realized he wasn’t alone. The antlers appeared in his line of sight before anything else, and Will traced their height as high as he could before his vision blurred. He blinked, and the demon’s face loomed over him.
“I’m cold,” Will said with a shuddered breath.
The demon moved, settling its long, thin body on the bed beside him. Its black eyes roamed over Will’s face as its clawed fingers traced across his chest, bare and smooth. “You are hurt.”
“Hurt?”
“Pierced through by a darkspawn arrow.” Its touch was feather-soft but its voice was drenched with barely contained rage. Arms wrapped around Will, possessively drawing him in until he was lying on top of the demon, looking down at its eerie, skeletal face. He shivered and laid his head down on the demon’s chest. Its claws touched up and down his back, and then pulled the silk sheets up to cover them both.
“Am I dying?” Will’s words were a tickle against the demon’s skin. He nuzzled his head closer, relishing the supernatural warmth beginning to encase him.
“No,” answered the demon, and Will sighed, accepting the response with complete trust. Why did he trust this strange thing so utterly? Why did he let a demon hold him close? He lifted up his head, his hands fanning out across an emaciated chest.
“Who are you?” Will asked.
It tilted its head, big black eyes deep and searching and glittering bright. Will could see his reflection in them, and he thought how natural he looked, reflected back in the demon’s eyes. “I am your friend,” it answered plainly. Will nodded, accepting, always accepting. He set his head back down, the shivers still wrenching his body. The demon smoothed its hands over his shoulders and down his arms, stopping to apply gentle squeezes over the taut muscles. “You are not dying today,” it continued. “Your body has been gravely injured, poison on an arrow’s tip, close to your heart.”
Will’s memory struck in a flash of images. The watchtower taken by darkspawn. The ogre. The signal fire. And then… “Did you save me?” He could remember a sharp grasp around his middle, and rough skin, being lifted up, up, carried away, the glow of abandoned torches scattering like ants beneath him.
“No, my sweet boy.” It sounded sad. “But you are saved nonetheless. Now shut your eyes. Relax. Let her heal you.”
Will’s eyebrows scrunched, and he tried to lift his head again, but the demon carded its fingers through his hair and kept him flush to its chest. The honesty bubbled up from deep inside and he could not withhold it from the demon cradling him so. “I’m afraid.”
“I know,” it whispered. “You are so brave, my dear, dear Will.” Its lips grazed his forehead before pressing into his curls and breathing deep. “I will see you soon.”
He clung to the demon beneath him, sliding his body against it, not wanting to let go, and not wanting to leave. “Wait, wait,” Will gasped.
“Deep breaths,” it whispered, tightening its arms around Will’s writhing body. “Deep breaths, my love.”
--
Will sat straight up, hands clutching over his heart, a great gasp pulling between his lips and filling his lungs to bursting. His heart hammered in his chest, and he swung his head round, looking for his demon. Sweat-soaked curls clung to his forehead. Wild blue eyes darted left and right. He was on a bed, stripped down to unfamiliar lambskin trousers. The sheet across his lap was not black silk but white linen. He was not in the Fade. Where was he?
“You’re awake.”
He nearly jumped from the bed, so startled was he to hear her voice. Then he saw her, sitting across the small room, in a little chair by a cooking fire.
“Alana?” He squinted, not trusting his own eyes. He swung his legs out from the bed and winced. A twinge in his shoulder gave him cause to glance down, and he saw the bandage wrapped around his chest. His fingers touched it lightly. The arrow.
“How are you feeling?” the Witch of the Wilds asked, lifting from her chair and walking to his bedside. He held his head in his hands and tried to steady his still-raging heartbeat. His skin felt too cold, where so recently he’d been held against the demon’s warmth. Had he begged to stay with it in the Fade? Moisture prickled the edge of his eyes. He had wanted to stay and been sent away.
“I feel…I don’t know how I feel,” he said. The mattress dipped as the woman sat down beside him. She placed a cool hand over his forehead, testing his temperature.
“Your fever has broken,” she said, the relief audible in her tone.
He looked up at her, and she pulled her hand away, but not before pushing the hair from his eyes. “Were you worried it wouldn’t?”
She sat, contemplating. “Your injury was severe. The arrow was dipped in poison. We were all worried.” Will was confused, and Alana read it in his expression. “Your friends refused to leave your side,” she supplied. “I had to kick them out to give me room to work.”
His friends. “Katz,” he said, and then, after a pause, “Hannibal.”
She smiled and nodded toward the door. It appeared they were in a one room hut, and Will ventured it must be the apostate’s home, which meant he was back in the Korcari Wilds. Reading the questions in his eyes, she spoke again. “Your friends will want to know you’re awake.”
Will’s eyes darted to the door. “Yes.”
“There’s much to discuss, but I think you should hear it from them.” Alana stood up from the bed and offered her hand. Will took it and let her help him up, and together they walked to the door. His flesh felt raw beneath the bandage and the muscle ached. But he was alive. Maker, how was he still alive?
Standing outside, speaking to one another at the edge of a small stream were the templar and Warden. At the sound of the door opening, they both turned.
“Will,” cried Katz as she rushed to his side. Will gave her a weak smile and looked past her to Hannibal, who stared right back, but made no immediate move for him. He’d half-thought the templar would run straight at him and throw him over his shoulder again, whisking him away to safety. Katz cleared her throat, drawing back Will’s attention, and he looked back to her. She had light bruises across her cheek and her hair swung around her face, bobbing around her chin, ends singed from where the fire had threatened. “You were touch and go there for a while.”
“I’m okay.”
“Yeah, thanks to Alana,” Katz said, crossing her arms and smirking as she cut her eyes sideways at the apostate. “After she flew us to safety she healed you with her badass first aid magic.”
Will raised his eyebrows at Alana. “Flew us to safety?”
“I guess you were pretty far gone when it happened,” Katz said, excitement creeping into her voice as she relayed the story. “We were surrounded by darkspawn and you had an arrow going straight through you. Me and Hannibal thought for sure it was the end.” Behind Katz, the templar kept his eyes fastened on Will, and the mage couldn’t help but squirm beneath the steadfast attention. Katz continued. “And then BAM. Out of nowhere, a dragon shows up, knocking down the watchtower wall and scooping us up.”
Will remembered the claws grabbing his waist and the rough skin. Scaly skin. He looked at Alana with huge eyes. “Dragon?”
Alana just smiled as Katz carried on. “The dragon flew us here and then shapeshifted, and guess who it was?”
“You can shapeshift into a…a dragon?” Will asked Alana, voice catching in his throat. “Really?”
“I can shapeshift into a lot of things,” she answered. “A dragon seemed the most promising for that particular rescue scenario.”
Will stood staring at her, simply agog. He had read about shapeshifting magic in the tower, but it wasn’t something taught within the Circle of Magi. It wasn’t something he thought he’d ever see. “Thank you for rescuing us,” he said at last, after realizing he’d been slack jawed and silent for too long. “And for healing me.” The tingling, cold feeling he’d experienced in the Fade must have been the healing magic coursing through him. Alana. She nodded her head and turned slightly away, taking a step toward the stream.
Will felt his presence finally move beside him, and he turned his head to look at Hannibal. He had a faint scar over his brow, but it looked as if Alana had healed that wound, as well. And his face was no longer covered in soot, but washed clean. Another glance at Katz and he guessed they had both had time to bathe and gather themselves.
“How long was I out?” he asked.
It was Hannibal who answered. “You were unconscious for a full day.”
“A full day?” He shook his head, disbelieving, and then another question occurred to him. “Where is Jack?”
Silence. Horrible silence.
His eyes went to Katz, who was staring at the ground. She worked her lips as if to speak, but no words came. She turned her face away. Will felt Hannibal’s hand softly settle on his shoulder and he looked up at him, hoping not to hear what must be heard.
“The signal fire was lit,” Hannibal began, “but Mason’s troops never came. They pulled out, retreated to safety when it looked as though the King had lost.” Will was shaking his head; he couldn’t believe it. “King Frederick was slain on the battlefield. As was his entire army.”
“And Jack?”
“Jack is dead. Everyone was killed.”
“No, no,” Will stammered. Katz was still looking away, her hand held at her throat, her fingers running along the leather cord of her Warden amulet. Will felt his own, suddenly heavy on his neck. He tried to picture Jack dead and couldn’t. He was too strong, too confident. How could he be dead? “All the Wardens are dead?”
“Not all the Wardens.” It was Alana who spoke, turning from the stream to face them. “You and Katz survived. You’re still alive to stand against the Blight.”
The Blight! Will hadn’t even considered the Blight. But the darkspawn had swatted down the King’s army with ease, and now they would be headed North and spreading, oozing across all of Ferelden. With no Grey Wardens to stop them! None but Katz. And himself.
“No,” he whispered. The hand gripping his shoulder increased the pressure, and he pulled away from the templar’s comforting force. “I don’t know anything about being a Warden. We need help. We need to contact Orlais. They can send Wardens to stop the Blight.”
Katz finally found her voice, squaring her shoulders and stepping toward Will. “I thought about that, but I have no idea how to reach them. And even if I did, there’s no way they’d get here in time. We’re on our own for now.”
“Not entirely,” said Alana. “The documents I gave you before, the official Grey Warden papers?” They all turned to her. “Did you even look at them?”
Katz shook her head. “I gave them to…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes grew misty. “Jack had them when the battle began.”
Alana reached behind her, pulling the scrolls from her waistband. She stepped forward and placed them in Katz’s hand. “Now you have them.”
With trembling fingers, Katz unrolled the scroll. “It’s the Warden Treaties.” She looked up at Will. “A long time ago, the Wardens made treaties with different factions of Ferelden. It’s like a contract. In the time of Blight, they must help when help is needed.”
Will couldn’t speak, but Hannibal could, and he asked, “With whom are these treaties made?”
Katz’s eyes examined the scroll. “The Dalish. The dwarves of Orzammar. And the Circle of Magi.”
“These people are bound by law to aid you,” Alana said. “You must enlist their help. Two Wardens can’t defeat a Blight, but with the help of the elves, dwarves, and mages?”
“Will, what do you think?” Katz was asking, but Will was backing away from them. He stumbled over his bare feet, almost crumbling. When he regained his balance, he turned, staggering off through the line of trees. He heard them calling his name, but kept moving, trying to gain distance between himself and the mountain of responsibility that had just been heaped upon him. He didn’t make it far before he had to stop, clinging to a tree. He was still shirtless, and the air was cold. His numb fingers scraped against the rough bark, and he leaned his head against the tree, breathing haggardly. He heard the footsteps and shut his eyes, waiting until he heard his voice before opening his eyes.
“Will?”
Hannibal was standing beside the tree, a bundle held in his arms.
“Hannibal.”
The templar handed the bundle to Will, and he took it. It was a shirt. “It’s cold.”
Will nodded, slipped the loose shirt over his shoulders, but his fingers were too chilled to tie the string shut at the collar. Without request, Hannibal moved close, his own hands reaching out, warm fingers deftly knotting the ties together.
“Thank you,” Will whispered.
Hannibal smiled and leaned against the tree, his shoulder lightly pressing against Will’s. “I told you before, Will, and I will say it again. Look at me, please.” Will felt his cheeks heating and he looked up at the templar through his lashes. Hannibal’s hair, clean from his bathing, was hanging over his forehead. It looked so soft. “You have already done more than most would have in your position,” he said. “I will remain with you, whatever you choose. But Will, you do not have to choose this path. You and I can leave together. Right now. Head to Orlais. Rivain. Tevinter. We can find some place safe.” He took Will’s hand and Will stared down at the meeting of their fingers. “The fate of the world does not have to rest on your shoulders.”
Will let the heat from Hannibal’s hand sink into his skin, allowed himself the pleasure of it for a full minute. He considered – oh, he really did. He considered what it would be like to steal away into the night, a rogue mage with a rogue templar at his side, forsaking the Grey Wardens, and all of Ferelden, maybe even all of Thedas, in order to find his own, selfish piece of a life all his own. Looking at the strong hand holding his, it was almost too easy to imagine.
And then he pulled away. “It’s too late to go back,” Will said. He looked up at the serene templar face watching him curiously. “I have to help.” He swallowed, not wanting to feel the way he did, but unable to shake it. “If I can, I have to. I have to try to help.”
Hannibal’s eyes crinkled at the sides as he smiled at Will. “You do not have to try alone. I will help you, Will, in every way I can.”
Will smiled back, but inside his stomach clenched. “Why?”
Without pause, the templar answered: “Because I am your friend.”
--
They returned to camp side by side. Katz and Alana were waiting, exchanging nervous looks when the two men appeared from behind the trees. Will walked up to them, his mind made. “Okay,” he declared.
Katz cocked her head. “Okay?”
“We have the treaties,” Will continued, “so let’s use them.”
The Warden lit up at Will’s words, and Alana, as well, became lighter of expression. “There’s a clan of Dalish that live in the Brecilian Forest,” Alana said. “It’s not far from here. We can start there.”
“We’re not too far from Redcliffe either,” Katz added. “We could ask for the Arl’s help, too. He has command of an army.”
Will was thankful for the change in his fellow Warden. The restless excitement in her voice was infinitely more palatable than the forlornness she’d adopted when talking about Jack. Sorrow didn’t fit her.
“Whatever we decide, we’ll rest here tonight,” said Alana. “Solidify our plan and head out in the morning. There are wards set all around this place so we’re in no danger of straggling darkspawn swooping down upon us.”
“Swooping… is bad,” Katz muttered under her breath, giving Alana a dose of I-don’t-completely-trust-you-yet side eye.
“Wait,” Will said, eyes on Alana. “You’re coming with us?”
She sighed, her long raven hair dancing in the evening breeze. “The Wilds are my home, and it’s already been swallowed by the Blight. I won’t sit idly by and let it take all of Ferelden.” Her lips quirked. “Besides, you could use the help of a mage who hasn’t been cooped up in a tower her whole life.”
“You’re an apostate,” argued Will, his eyes flashing to Hannibal’s. “If we run into more templars, they’re going to flag you as one.” He looked her up and down to make his point. She wore animal skins, furs and leathers. She was sort of…obviously an apostate.
But she just laughed at him. “I’m no more afraid of templars than you are.” He blushed at that and looked down at his feet, which were in desperate need of shoes. “They’re inside," Alana said, reading his mind, "along with your robes. But the robes were torn up pretty badly.”
His new sleek robes. His visual proof of belonging somewhere. But then, he didn’t belong to the tower anymore, did he? He was a Grey Warden. He was beyond the tower, the Circle of Magi, all of it. He looked to the people standing before him. His new companions. They were the ones he belonged to now.
“I might ditch the robes,” Will said. “Bit of a tripping hazard.”
--
Night fell, and they sat in the little hut, surrounding the cook fire. It was warm and comfortable inside, but Alana passed around blankets anyway. Will sat on the bearskin with a bowl of steaming stew in his hands and a fur draped over his shoulders. Beside him, Hannibal, stew finished, was sharpening his greatsword. Katz’s gaze roamed up and down the weapon’s length and then she met Will’s eyes. She winked.
He nearly choked on his stew, and they all looked at him with concern. After a dreadful moment of trying to swallow without coughing up broth, Will cleared his throat and sought to steer their tapered out conversation to further discussions of their plan. Oddly enough, when he began to address them, they all stopped what they were doing and gave them their full – downright oddly respectful – attention.
“I think we should deal with fulfilling the treaties first,” he began, trying to fight the heat in his face, “and then, once we have definite backup, seek additional help.” He looked at Katz. “Do you know the Arl of Redcliffe personally?”
She mumbled something unintelligible into her stew.
“Pardon?” Hannibal asked politely, and Will snorted as Katz set down her bowl in defeat.
“I’m from Redcliffe,” she said, sounding more exasperated than was expected at such a confession. “My uncle is the Arl, okay? You caught me.”
“That’s great news,” Will told her, still confused by her defensiveness, comic as it was. “That means he’s more inclined to help us.” Long pause. “Right? Uncle’s favorite niece?”
She sighed. “More like the naughty niece that got sent away to the Chantry when she was little.”
Alana laughed and literally clapped her hands together in amusement. Then, realizing what she’d done, she pressed a hand across her mouth. “I’m sorry. I just realized this is all going to be much more fun than I’d initially thought.”
More fun indeed. As the night wore on, and plans were constructed, there was probably an equal measure of laughter as there was pragmatic scowling. Will chalked it up to nerves. A sort of group hysteria in the face of improbable odds. Still, it felt good to laugh.
But the frivolity couldn’t last forever, and when the hour had grown late and their stomachs were full and they knew which way they would set out in the morning, it was time to sleep. Hannibal volunteered for first watch, which didn’t surprise Will. He had a pretty good idea of why he wanted first shift. The templar wanted to watch Will, and make certain he went to sleep. Will wasn’t sure whether he was more annoyed or flattered by the attention. But at least, tonight, he wouldn’t have to fake sleeping. He was exhausted, yes, but more than that, he wanted to find the demon in the Fade. As he settled himself on Alana’s bed (which they had insisted Will sleep in since he was the most wounded amongst them, and really, his shoulder was incredibly sore), he tried to focus. Ever since he’d appeared stripped in front of the demon, it was like he’d permanently misplaced his clothes in the Fade. But he needed to speak seriously tonight, and it would be easier and less distracting to do that with his breeches on. Preferably. He was a Dreamer, wasn’t he? So couldn’t he at least muster the willpower to keep his clothes on?
He tossed on the bed for a while, trying to find a comfortable position, and ended up on his side, his hands tucked beneath his head. Shutting his eyes, he let the crackling fire loll him into a relaxed state, occasionally hearing the sleeping sighs of the others. And then, finally, he fell asleep.
--
He knew he was in the grand hall before he opened his eyes. So often had he visited now, the atmosphere itself was familiar, and, with an inhale, he could scent the one he sought, the one he’d hoped had been waiting for him. Sharp claws smoothed across his shoulders. His bare shoulders. Maker’s breath, he was naked again.
“There are enough barriers between us, my love, without adding more in the way of troublesome cloth,” breathed the demon in Will’s ear. Will didn’t jump at its proximity; he had known it was right there behind him, felt its heat radiating sweetly against his back.
Will leaned into it, letting the demon’s chest support most of his weight. He sighed, thankful his sleeping mind had not paid attention to the requests of his waking one. It was the skin on skin contact that he had needed, that he had been craving without even knowing. The demon’s skin was hot, and as it wrapped its long arms around Will’s waist, it pulled a shiver through him.
The demon laughed. “You had another chance to turn away from all of this, my sweet, brave boy, and again you turned it down.”
Will hummed peacefully as spindly fingers traced up and down his stomach. “Hannibal wanted me to run away.”
“He wanted you to run away with him,” corrected the demon, and Will nodded. “You wanted it.”
“Yes,” Will freely admitted. “I want to be free. I’ve always wanted to be free. But,” he said, twisting around in the demon’s arms so they were face to face, or rather, face to chest, as the demon was so much taller, “I can’t be free as long as I am bound to the Wardens.” He sighed. “I’ve traded one prison for another.”
“Prisons can be escaped. You escaped the Circle.”
“And if I escaped the Wardens, I would become prisoner to something far worse,” said Will. He pushed his forehead into the demon’s chest and breathed out. He felt fingers petting at his hair.
“The templar wants to help you,” the demon whispered, its breath warm as it fanned across Will's crown, leaning protectively over the young mage held flush against its body. “Let him help you.” The fingers trailed down from his nape, scratching light, pleasurable marks down Will’s side. They came to rest firmly on his hips. And pulled.
Will gasped, feeling the demon’s hard body tight against him.
“Already you grow stronger,” the demon sighed, rolling its hips into Will. “I’m so proud of you.”
He was lost, floating in the sensation of the demon pressing, rubbing, holding. Will’s chin tilted upward and his head lolled laxly on his neck. He watched the demon moving closer, its black eyes swallowing him whole. And then –
He shook violently in the demon’s arms. “OH!” he cried, tears leaking down his cheeks. His very bones seemed to vibrate, and his stomach clenched painfully. Inside his skull, his brain buzzed with such volume, he couldn’t hear the demon as it called to him. His eyes blurred and he could barely make out its lips moving. Will’s fingernails dug into the demon’s skin, fighting to hang on, gnashing his teeth and ripping his throat with voiceless screams.
The demon was severed from his hands, and Will was tossed into darkness. His fingers splayed before him, breaking his fall. Labored breaths had him heaving on all fours, and when he looked up, the Fade itself shook. There! There, before his eyes, the behemoth. The dragon! But not just a dragon, no! He could feel it, sense it, knew it was so much more. The creature peered down at him with fiery eyes, and Will tried to scamper back, but he was frozen to stillness with fear. Paralyzed.
All he could do was scream as his gut ached and his heart beat sadistically in his chest. He heard the battle cry of thousands, millions, saw the gleam of their swords and fire of their torches, the blood on their teeth. Darkspawn. The dragon arched its neck and unhinged its jaw, and a rush of fire blasted toward him.
--
“OH, MAKER! OH, FUCK. FUCK!” Will sat up in bed, threw his feet to the floor and burst from the little hut, out into the night. He sucked in the fresh air, desperate for it. He bent over, hands on his knees, and tried to ground himself in the waking world.
He could hear the rummaging within the hut as his companions woke confusedly, no doubt wondering why Will had run screaming from his dreams. Nightmare. He shook his head. It wasn’t like a normal nightmare. It was like what he’d seen right after his Joining.
He heard soft steps approaching him, and glanced up. With a start of surprise, he saw Katz walking toward him. He’d thought for sure it would be Hannibal. When he straightened, he did see the templar, but he wasn’t coming up to him; he was lingering by the door of the hut, speaking quietly with Alana. It was Katz who tilted her head at Will when she was near enough, an understanding smile on her face.
“Bad dream?”
Will ran his fingers through his hair, catching painfully on a nest of knots. He tried to think of something snarky to say. Or something clever. Anything to dispel the tension. But he couldn’t find any words. His throat felt raw, and he wondered, shame reddening his face, if he’d been screaming in his sleep.
“Did you see it?”
He coughed, and cupped his fingers over his throat. When he finally spoke, his voice was a scratchy, sad thing. “I don’t know what I saw.”
“Big, scary, dragon-shaped thing?” Katz ventured. When Will’s eyes widened at her, she sighed and came, at last, to stand at his side. “I’ve been seeing the same visions.”
“What is it?” he asked, hearing the tremble in his voice.
Katz shrugged and hugged her arms around her chest against the cold air. “It’s an archdemon.”
Will had read about archdemons. Verification that the creature from his dream was, in fact, one of them, was…bad. “That means this is a true Blight,” he said, feeling hollow. “Explains how the darkspawn were so organized.”
Katz nodded. “They’re not roaming around, causing random havoc. They’re following direct orders from their archdemon. This is exactly what Jack had been afraid of,” she continued, and at the mention of Jack’s name, her eyes misted.
But Will didn’t turn from her. Instead, he reached out and took her hand. She gave him a wry expression, but didn’t try to pull away. “I didn’t know Jack as well as you,” he began, “but what I knew of him, I liked.” He looked away then, still holding Katz’s hand, and stared into the quiet stream flowing at their feet. “I’m sorry he died.”
She was silent for a long while, and all Will could hear was the wind blowing through leaves and an occasional sound drifting from the hut. Katz squeezed Will’s hand gently and then pulled it back, to run over her sheared locks instead. Like Will, she stared into the flowing water. “Jack was a good man. He recruited me. I was gonna be a templar, but the day before I took my vows he came to the Chantry and took me away.”
“You were going to be a templar?” Will scoffed.
“Stupid, right?” laughed Katz. “He saved my life that day.”
“He saved my life, too,” Will said. Finally, they looked away from the stream and at each other. “You would have been an awful templar.”
“The worst,” agreed Katz. “Hey,” she added, turning back for the hut, “just so you know, being a Warden doesn’t usually suck this much.”
“Hmm. Is there usually a party and games?”
She laughed. “Yeah, and you get a cool shirt with a griffin logo on it. No, but seriously, Will.” They’d been walking steadily toward the hut, but she grabbed his elbow and made him stop to face her. “Things are going to feel…different now. And the visions are only going to get worse, now that there’s an archdemon in the mix.” He shuddered. “Welcome to the Grey Wardens.” She slapped him on the back, just like Jack had done, and walked ahead of him into the hut, passing Hannibal on the way.
The templar was leaning in the doorframe, but when Katz walked by, he straightened and met Will before he reached the threshold, lightly taking his arm and leading him away. Will wasn’t necessarily surprised. He had guessed the templar would want a word with him after his little scene, but he was anxious, too. He didn’t know what Hannibal would say.
Will thought he would be led to the stream once more, but Hannibal turned and brought them around the hut until they were completely veiled from prying eyes. When they stopped, Hannibal didn’t take his hand off him, and Will didn’t try to shake him off. As the templar’s eyes bore into his, all Will could think of was the demon, telling him to let Hannibal help.
“I had a vision of the archdemon,” Will said as Hannibal opened his mouth to speak. “It frightened me. But I’m okay now.”
Hannibal hummed thoughtfully, and Will could feel his fingertips gliding slowly over the skin of his arm, even through the thin cotton of his shirt. The light touch made Will gasp, and Hannibal closed his fingers firmly over Will's wrist, parting his lips with the tip of his tongue.
“Hannibal?” Will asked, for the templar wasn’t speaking, only holding onto Will’s wrist and staring at him. “Hannibal,” he tried again, closing his own hand over Hannibal’s wrist. “Are you okay?” The thought hadn’t occurred to Will that Hannibal may be experiencing the same things he was. Fear. Doubt. But hadn’t he basically vowed to abandon the Circle, in order to accompany Will? Hadn’t Hannibal risked his life time and time again to protect him? Had Will really been so selfish as to never even consider, for a single second, what the templar was sacrificing? And for what? “Hannibal, I haven’t thanked you for all you’ve done for me, but I’m thankful, okay? Please don’t think you have to keep--”
Before Will could finish his sentence, Hannibal pushed him up against the side of the hut. Not roughly, but determinedly. “I will not keep having this conversation, Will,” he said. “Do you understand?” He waited and Will nodded dazedly. Hannibal’s hands were pressed against his waist, not pinning him down exactly, but the strength beneath his touch was clear. “I am where I want to be.” Hannibal seemed to consider something, and then he sighed, taking his hands from Will’s waist and stepping away. “If you have more frightening visions, do not run off into the night where there could be enemies lurking. Come to me. Do you understand?” Will nodded again, shivering now that Hannibal’s heat was gone. “You are alright now?” Hannibal almost looked pained.
“I’m alright,” Will said.
Hannibal gave him a thin smile. “I’m glad. Come,” he beckoned, walking back around the hut. “I must insist you try to sleep.”
Will was only too happy to follow the templar back inside the hut. He didn’t need to be told twice to get into bed. He yearned to slip back into the Fade, hoping it would allow him to escape the strange tingling in his stomach Hannibal had inspired when he’d pushed him against the wall.
“Good night, Will,” he heard Hannibal whisper beside the bed. “Tomorrow, we’re off to see the elves.”