Chapter Text
Hannibal smiled. And then he changed.
“W-what is this?” Will asked breathlessly, staring into his demon’s black, glittering eyes. “I don’t understand.”
The demon’s hand reached out to softly touch Will’s cheek, and, confused and disturbed as Will felt, he did not move away. He let the demon frame his face with its hands. He let it draw him in closer. He let it bend its head so, when it spoke, its breath was a hot whisper against his skin. “I think you finally do, my sweet boy.”
The demon pulled away and gently tipped back Will’s head. But the demon had changed again, and it was Hannibal’s bright eyes staring into Will’s. His clawless fingers caressed softly down Will’s neck.
“You,” Will whispered. “You’re…you’re…”
“I am who you always knew me to be, Will,” Hannibal answered.
“No, no,” Will said, shaking his head. “I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t want to know. There is a difference, my love.”
Will couldn’t speak, not with his world collapsing around him. Nor could he withdraw from Hannibal, his demon, still holding him gently. Mind reeling, heart exploding in his chest, Will did the only thing he could think of to do. He shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on where he wanted to be. He felt the warmth surrounding him, the demon’s heat he loved so much, and Hannibal’s heat, one and the same. Impossibly the same. Hannibal’s hands tightened around his waist as the air around them began to shift.
--
When Will opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the high ceiling of the apprentice quarters. He was only granted the calm respite of a single second before his mind caught up and he remembered. He rolled off his back with a groan, clamoring to his feet, his staff already tight in his hand. Behind him, Alana and Katz were also stirring. And there, right beside him, the templar’s eyes fluttered open and instantly began to search for Will. But Will couldn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t think he could stand it. He could barely stand at all. But he had no time to crumble, because Sloth was waiting.
And it didn’t look the least bit tired.
He slammed down his staff and a powerful line of fire flooded from its tip, casting a high wall of flame between Sloth and Will. The separation bought enough to time to check over his shoulder, where Alana and Katz were standing, looking a tad dazed, but ready for a fight all the same. He didn’t look at Hannibal, though he could feel his eyes upon him.
“Sloth is powerful,” Will yelled over the roar of the firespell. “Hit him with everything.” He channeled his mana, his core hot with its roiling energy. He was so wired with power; he thought he might burst into flames himself. “The wall is about to come down. Get ready!”
Will backed up, falling into line between Katz and Alana, trying not to see the man – no, the demon - in his peripheral steadying his greatsword. He shook his head and blinked the tears from his eyes, trying to concentrate. With a wave of his hand, he evaporated the firewall, and Sloth wasted no time. It shook the Tower floor as its giant, taloned paws came crashing down, breaking into a run and rushing straight for them.
Alana brought up an energy shield, and then her body bowed and furred, and she was the Great Bear from the Brecilian Forest. Not as huge and menacing as Sloth, but formidable and strong, with blue eyes bent on murder.
Will swirled his staff above his head, garnering his spell, and then he threw his strength forward, extending his staff and emitting a stream of fire, blue with heat, right into Sloth’s chest. It reared back with a roar, opening the way for Alana to swipe her long claws across its vulnerable belly. Katz lunged forward in unison with Hannibal, swiping behind one of its legs as Hannibal swiped the other. Sloth cried out and lost its balance. Blood was seeping beneath it, oozing from its legs and chest, but Will didn’t pause. He gathered his next spell until a firestorm swirled violently above Sloth’s head. It growled, baring its teeth and trying to rush forward, but Alana, changed back to human form, trapped him within a new force field, keeping him immobile beneath Will’s storm.
Sloth’s matted fur began to burn, making way for melting flesh. But when its paw slashed its powerful claws against the energy barrier, the spell came down, and Sloth sped toward Will, leaving a slippery trail of black blood in its wake.
Will blasted it with more flame, but Sloth was gaining ground. Like any cornered, threatened beast, it was more dangerous wounded and angry, and it gnashed its jaws as it pushed Will into the corner of the apprentice quarters. The backs of Will’s knees hit a clothes chest, and he fell, dropping his staff. He tried to lift his palm and form a new spell, but Sloth was already upon him, rising up on its haunches. As it swung down its lethal forepaw, Will closed his eyes.
But Sloth’s blow never connected, because Hannibal jumped it from behind, running the tip of his sword into its spine. Will opened his eyes in time to see Sloth bucking the templar from its back. Hannibal fell to the ground, and Will stumbled to his feet, reaching for his staff. He lurched forward, hitting Sloth with every spell he could remember and all the mana he could muster. Katz rushed in from its flank, slicing her blade through its thick abdomen. Alana threw it backwards with a burst of energy magic. It landed on its back, Katz’s sword embedded in its side.
Will ran to where it had fallen, standing over it and concentrating the entire force of his strength until Sloth’s fur was engulfed in blue flames. Its death cry was a terrible bellow that split a crack down the floor beneath it. Will spun around, body still hyped with power, and Hannibal was standing right there. Breathing heavy, Will kept his staff pointing forward, eyes wide.
“Will?” Katz was asking, but Will was focused wholly on Hannibal now. On the demon. He was panting, his hair hanging in his eyes, and his fingers were tight around the cherry wood of his staff, still hot from his mana, still sparking with power. He could attack Hannibal. He could. He could send him up in flames. He certainly felt volatile enough to try. And he probably should. If Hannibal was a demon, why shouldn’t he? But Hannibal didn’t look worried, didn’t look scared that Will would try to hurt him. Hannibal just stared at Will with warm, idyllic eyes, and his lips curved into a tender smile.
“Will, relax. It’s over,” Alana said, and Will felt her hand on his shoulder, but he couldn’t look away from Hannibal. Not his Hannibal.
“What’s wrong with you?” Katz asked, waving her hand in front of Will’s face.
Hannibal tilted his head and his soft sweep of hair fell lightly across his forehead. And Will lowered his staff, the truth hitting him hard in the gut. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said softly. He ran a hand over his face and turned away from Hannibal, but not fast enough to miss the glint in the templar’s eye.
Will tried his best to ignore him as they continued to work their way through the Tower. He threw his worries into his magic, taking out the remaining abominations with mean precision, keeping as far away from Hannibal as he could manage, and never, never looking him in the eye.
It was easy, now that Sloth was dead. They found the top of the Tower filled with mages, unharmed and unmarked by possession. By the time they reappeared before the First Enchanter, Will’s head was a minefield, and his insides were humming a symphony of chaos. He was too wound up to even remember to be frightened when he addressed her, and he was too stuck within himself to feel proud when she shook his hand and pledged the Circle’s aid against the Blight.
There was a moment of pathetic horror when Will had faced First Enchanter Bedelia and seen the long line of templars at her back, and he couldn’t even entertain the idea of spilling Hannibal’s secret. And that’s when he realized he never would. Because there, in a Circle Tower, amongst two dozen templars…that would have been the moment to act. But Will let the moment pass, and when he left the Tower, he felt the same weakness, the same helplessness that he’d feared.
Will did not let Hannibal help him into the rowboat, and he did not meet his eye when Hannibal lightly grazed his arm and leaned in to whisper at his ear, “Please, Will, we must speak.” He shrugged off his touch and turned his back to him in the boat, and spoke to no one as it made its slow progression across the sparkling lake.
--
All Will wanted to do was sleep, but he couldn’t, because he knew that as soon as he entered the Fade, his demon would find him. And though Will longed to touch it, it was no longer an ‘it’ to touch. It was a ‘him,’ and it was Hannibal. And he didn’t want to see him, or touch him, or hear out his explanations.
When they reached the other side of Lake Calenhad, they traveled steadily westward, toward Denerim, stopping for camp when the sun had set. After the fire had been lit and their dinner had been eaten (Will’s hardly touched), he took Alana’s arm and led her away from the others, into the quiet, isolated shadows of the trees.
“Alana, I need your help,” he pleaded.
She looked up at him with a fretful mouth, straight and pursed. “What is it, Will? You’ve been acting strange since Sloth.” She pressed a cool hand to Will’s forehead. “Are you sick?”
He shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling nauseous and vulnerable and stupid. His heart ached, and he didn’t think Alana could cure that particular pain. But there was something she could do. “I don’t think I should go to sleep tonight,” Will said.
Frowning, she asked, “Why not? You look frayed. You could use a good night’s sleep.”
“It could be risky,” answered Will, dropping his voice low. He knew Hannibal would be straining his ears to hear him, just as he knew, if he were to look over at the fire, Hannibal would be watching. “After what happened today, I think I could be more vulnerable than usual. Other demons could be trying to hunt me down in the Fade. I’m sure it would be fine, but I don’t want to take the risk. I thought maybe you could use your energizing spell…so I won’t need to sleep.”
She reluctantly agreed to help, and Will only felt slightly guilty about it. It wasn’t necessarily a lie. Not really. She made him sit on the grass, legs crossed and palms extended, while she sat across from him, gently resting her fingers over his hand. Will felt the healing magic tingle across his skin.
“The Guardian told me my heart was frozen,” Alana said softly as her magic flowed into Will. “Do you remember that?”
He nodded, because how could he forget?
“Dimmond reminded me of someone I used to know,” she continued, her fingers stroking over Will’s palms. “I think that’s why I saw him in the Fade. But it wasn’t real. Love like that…it’s seldom ever real. I learned that lesson the hard way, a long time ago.”
Will looked at the woman sitting before him. She was lovely and strong and her face glowed in the moonlight. It was difficult to imagine anyone not loving her.
“That said, if anyone ever looked at me the way Hannibal looks at you, frozen heart be damned. I wouldn’t let that kind of love pass me by.”
His eyes widened in surprise, and his mouth worked open and closed repeatedly, to no avail.
Alana laughed lightly. “Oh, come on. It’s no secret.” Will felt a final, tiny tingle, and then Alana pulled her hands away and settled them in her lap. “I don’t know what happened to make you upset, Will, and I’m not in a prime position to give any advice, but I can’t not say it, so hear me out. He’s a templar and you’re a mage, and I know you must think that could prove problematic down the road. But from an outsider’s perspective? Hannibal has always put you before the Order, and he always will. Think of everything he’s done, not to help save the world, but for you.” Alana shrugged. “Do what feels right, Will. Like I said, I don’t know anything about anything. But just in case you aren’t sure, just in case you actually are too dense to realize it, Hannibal’s in love with you. And if you feel the same, it’d be a shame to let that kind of love go to waste.”
She patted his knee and left him sitting in the grass. And he sat there for an awful long time, as his mind worked like a slave through his endless well of memories. Hannibal had saved his life too many times to count, but he could still feel every touch of his hands on his waist as he pulled him out of danger. He could feel the fingers brushing the tears from his cheek and the hand at his back. So many touches, so many soft words. But shining brightest amongst the onslaught of recollections was a small moment, and one Will had disregarded until now.
It was the day it all began, when he had helped Peter destroy his phylactery. It was the moment the First Enchanter had threatened Will with Tranquility, and the templar holding him had spun him around in his arms, strengthening his grip, and there had been a peculiar look on his face, and Hannibal had pulled him forward, pressing him against his chest. Will had thought at the time that he had been keeping a flight-risk mage from trying to escape his punishment. But now, as Will remembered, he saw it for what it had truly been. Even then, when they had barely known one another, Hannibal had pulled Will protectively against him. There, in that room full of templars and a wrathful First Enchanter, Hannibal had been preparing to save Will’s life. If Jack hadn’t intervened, Will knew that Hannibal would have done just that.
Will sat in the grass for a while longer, trying to piece together his memory, trying to see things as they had really happened. But when he finally walked back to the fire and lay down on his bedroll, he still couldn’t face the templar who had waited up for him to return. Will ignored the hand that reached for him and turned his back on the man who had saved him. Because he wasn’t just a man. He wasn’t just a templar. And he wasn’t just a demon. He was a liar.
--
Neither Will nor Hannibal slept that night. Nor the following night. Nor the one after that. And by the time they reached Denerim, Will was so brain-heavy and disoriented, he’d caught himself leaning against Hannibal’s shoulder as they waited for the Arl of Redcliffe to open the gates to his Denerim estate. It had only been Hannibal’s concerned rumble in his ear that had alerted Will to the slip, and he’d jerked himself away, falling into Katz and nearly knocking her over. Alana had worriedly agreed to give him a final magical dosage of sleeplessness, and he’d plied himself with cup after cup of strong tea as soon as they’d gained access to the estate kitchen.
And now, Will sat at one end of a long table, jittery and high on caffeine and magic. On the other end of the table sat the Arl. And in-between, staring expectantly at Will and his companions, were all walks of life in Ferelden. So strange a sight it was that Will thought for an uncomfortable few moments he might actually be asleep. Why else would he look down a table and see a Forest Spirit sitting next to a dwarf sitting next to the First Enchanter sitting next to the Arl of Redcliffe? But no, this wasn’t a fever dream. It was Will Graham’s life. And it was quickly reaching its crescendo.
“The Landsmeet will take place tomorrow,” the Arl was saying to the nods of several official-looking heads, for not everyone at the table was bound by the Warden treaties. He recognized a few others, from his world studies in the Tower. The Teyrn of Highever was there, and someone Will thought might have been a Bann from Lothering. There was also a surly looking elf who said he was from the Denerim alienage. His narrow face had been full of loathing when he’d sworn to help them defeat Mason, no matter the costs.
It was an odd gathering, to say the least, but it gathered down to this: They would all speak up on behalf of the Grey Wardens tomorrow and attest that Mason be stripped of his title, as well as the command of the Denerim troops. The only ones leading Ferelden into a battle against the Blight would be the only Grey Wardens left in Ferelden to fight it, and the armies they had collected to help. The idea made Will uneasy, but a part of him was glad for it, too. Once Mason was out of the way, not only would the Grey Warden name be justly cleared, they could finish this Blight, once and for all. It had been a long time coming, and Will was ready for it to be over.
He had sidestepped Hannibal’s questing hand when the meeting adjourned, and in doing so, nearly trampled a small elven woman who had snuck up behind him.
“Sorry!” Will said, face blushing. He felt Hannibal sliding up beside him to take the note from the elf’s hand that Will had utterly failed to notice.
“Thank you,” Hannibal said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a gold coin, which he pressed into the elf’s palm. She bowed and quickly ran from the room. It had mostly cleared out, save a few. Katz and Alana gathered around Hannibal, looking over his shoulder as he unfurled the scrap of paper. Will shuffled awkwardly back and forth on his feet, biting at his nail and trying not to look at the templar, while desperately wanting to know what the note said.
But Hannibal didn’t make him wait, and he didn’t make him ask. He handed Will the note to read himself, though he was sure to make their fingers graze as the paper slipped from one hand to the next. Will’s blush intensified at the touch. He had gotten so used to the daily caresses and rubs, both from Hannibal and, well, Demon Hannibal, that the past three days of zero contact had made him shamefully touch starved. Will cleared his throat and tried to focus his tired eyes enough to read the cursive. What he read made his eyes pop, and he looked up at his companions, startled.
“This is from the Queen Regent,” he said. Of course, they knew that already, and smiled at him warily. Will sighed. He could only imagine what a mess he looked, if how he felt was anything to go by. Luckily, Alana was swift to take the reins, and for the zillionth time in the past few days, he was thankful to have met her in the Wilds.
“She’s asking us for help,” Alana said. “And she’s the Queen Regent.”
“But,” Katz added with a smirk, “she’s also Mason’s sister. Can we trust her?”
Will bit his lip thoughtfully, trying not to notice Hannibal watching his every move. He wasn’t sure if she could be trusted or not, but the note read as follows:
‘Dear Wardens,
After being caught attempting to attend your council, my brother, Teyrn Mason of Denerim, has locked me in my bedchamber. I send this note along with my most trustworthy servant, hoping it finds its way into the right hands. Please send help, if you can. I fear what my brother might do, both to me and to you on the morrow, and I believe it in all of our best interests that we speak. I am magically sealed in my bedchamber, on the second floor of the Royal Palace of Denerim.
Sincerely,
Margot’
“Judging by our past experiences,” Will said slowly, for that was his brain’s only speed to work with at present, “I would say that this is a trap.”
Katz nodded. “Yes. Big, fat trap.”
“But what if it’s not?” Alana argued. “Mason’s insane, right? And Dimmond mentioned how Margot had been forced into going along with his plans, didn’t he?”
“Alana presents an interesting point,” Hannibal said, nodding to her approvingly. “If the Queen Regent is sincere, she might be willing to help us, not only in the Landsmeet tomorrow, but in the battle ahead.”
Will kept his eyes on his shoes, knowing full well that Hannibal was cocking his head at that damnable angle and fixing him with those damnable, penetrating eyes. “I think…” he began, rubbing at his throbbing temples as he watched his bootlaces blur, “…that someone else should make this decision.” He almost expected a hand to press gently against his lower back, and when it didn’t come, his heart clenched painfully in his chest.
“I am inclined to believe the tormented sister,” Hannibal said. “There is a chance she has been unfairly misunderstood, grouped together with her brother’s madness simply because they are judged to be kin by society’s standards.”
If Will hadn’t vowed not to look at Hannibal, he would have rolled his eyes at his blatant self-campaigning. But he wasn’t looking at Hannibal, and he had no intention to, so he directed his gaze to Alana and Katz, lifting his brow in question.
Katz sighed. “I don’t know. Hannibal has a point. It’d be nice to have the Queen of Ferelden on our side.”
Alana nodded her head in agreement. “I think we should rescue her,” she said, tucking a rebellious strand of hair behind her ear. “I can’t put my finger on why, but I have a good feeling about it.”
--
Alana’s ‘good feeling’ became the catalyst for several features of interest that took place that day, the first of which involved Will, Katz, Alana, and Hannibal loitering in the gardens outside of the Denerim Royal Palace, stripping to their skivvies behind a rosebush and changing into the guard uniforms the Queen’s favorite elf had handed off to them. It was rushed and clumsy and Will’s bare ass fell into a rose thorn, but there was a bright side. Will hardly had any time at all for his eyes to roam over Hannibal’s bare body. He hardly noticed the way his muscles moved beneath his skin or the thick patch of hair across his chest. And Will certainly had no time, in such a rushed situation with a rose thorn nestled in his ass, to imagine his hands gripping the templar’s surprisingly soft-looking sides. An even brighter side, besides all that, was that the guard uniform included a heavy plate that lay across Will’s groin, effectively hiding the erection he definitely hadn’t gotten when he hadn’t had time to look at who he wasn’t looking at.
The elven servant was waiting for them at the back entrance, smoothing her sleek bun, her large, pointed ears twitching nervously.
“It took you long enough,” she hissed at Will and the others when they walked up to the door disguised as an average, nothing-to-see-here cluster of Denerim Palace Guards. She gave them a precursory glance before opening the door wider and waving them inside. They were herded into an alcove off the kitchen, where Will could see dozens of elven servants rushing around, working over steaming pots, cutting and slicing, breaking their backs and paying the four humans in guard’s armor absolutely no mind. He wasn’t sure whether they just didn’t see them there, or whether they were in on the Queen Regent’s plan, and thus, were inclined not to see them at all. Will, unused to the bulk of space his body took up beneath genuine armor, lifted his hand to straighten the awkwardly heavy helmet on his head. He wanted to distract his hand, since he’d not been able to sneak his staff inside, and it felt empty without the comforting weight of the cherry wood. When, upon this movement, Will’s elbow banged into Hannibal’s shoulder, it was a total accident. The templar grunted at the blow, feet shuffling as he was marginally displaced, and Will felt a petty sting of content. When he brought his hand away from his helmet, he hit Hannibal with his elbow again, harder and less accidentally than before. The gruff grunt of response was pleasing, until Katz caught Will’s eye. He blushed and scooted away from the templar he wasn’t looking at or interacting with and kept his head dutifully forward, waiting for the elf’s next instructions.
“There shouldn’t be any trouble unless you do anything suspicious,” she told them. “You’ll have to walk through the guard barracks on the first floor to get to the second, but you can take a back staircase, and at the top of the staircase, across the hall, Mistress will be waiting.”
“Nothing wrong with that plan,” Katz scoffed.
“The door is magically sealed, so I hope you brought a mage along?” asked the elf.
Will and Alana glanced at one another, and Katz said, “We’re all set.”
“Keep up the attitude and you’ll fit in swell with the other guards,” jibed the elf. “Once you have Mistress, see that she changes into something less gaudy. She won’t like it, but I’m sure you can convince her. Then sneak out the way you came in. Have you got all that?”
“We’ve got it,” answered Alana.
The elf nodded and took a step back to survey their appearance once more. She gave off a strained, exasperated sigh before saying, with her ears a-twitching, “I guess that’ll have to do. Off you go.”
And so off they went, stomping through the Royal Palace like they belonged there, Will keying up anxiously every time they turned a corner, because corners were enemy number one in his experience, and he was lacking the weight of surety against the small of his back that he’d foolishly allowed himself to grow accustomed to, and worse, become dependent on to keep his bundle of nerves from eating him alive. Eventually, after not a long walk at all, they turned a corner and there was the guard barracks. Full of guards.
Will instinctively stopped in the doorway, and Katz had to shove him through, and it was only by Andraste’s Grace that he didn’t come crashing to the floor when he tripped over his too-big boots. Or it might have been the hand that gripped his elbow that saved him from falling. Will’s head whipped around to Hannibal before he could remind himself not to look, but the templar’s touch disappeared as quickly as it had been administered. Will fumed beneath the cover of his helmet and did his best to look like he belonged as they marched through the enemy lines.
Will was sure their luck couldn’t be this fantastic, but it truly seemed that every guard in the room either had his head in a bowl of stew or his mind on his hand of cards, because not a one paid a stitch of attention to the four people trudging through their barracks. That didn’t keep Will from holding his breath, however, and only releasing it once they’d passed through to the opposite side. He exhaled slowly, and had to press his hand against the wall to steady himself. Maker, he was exhausted. But there was no time to stop and pine over his lack of sleep and deep-burrowing sense of betrayal, because the steps to the second floor were only a few yards away, and his companions were already headed right for them. Will stalked quickly past the templar waiting for him at the bottom of the steps, ignoring the hand held out for him and not thinking about all the times Hannibal had manhandled him up various flights of stairs.
The ascension was quick and unperturbed, and once through the door, the four companions were standing in a hallway of golden décor. The exuberance, though, was interlaced with madness. A pig’s head on a diamond studded mount. A silk rug depicting a graphic scene that Will, squinting, thought might be a woman being chased through the woods by wild boar. There was definitely a theme. And Will didn’t like it.
“There’s her door,” Alana whispered, and Will followed her gaze to the shimmery door across the hall.
Katz and Hannibal kept a lookout while Will and Alana approached the door. For the moment, they appeared to be the only ones in this section of the palace, so they took advantage while they could. Alana held up her hand, her fingertips hovering in front of the magical seal. She closed her eyes, and the shimmer pulsed once, twice, and after the third pulse, it vanished. Almost immediately afterward, the door cracked open, and a pair of doe eyes peered out.
“Oh,” said the owner of the eyes, and the door opened all the way. “Come in, come in,” the Queen Regent whispered urgently, and the four “guards” clamored quickly into her bedchambers. She shut the door and turned to them, resting her back against the wall with a sigh. “I wasn’t sure you would come,” she said.
Will observed her as she observed them. She was pretty, with big eyes and a rosebud mouth in a heart-shaped face. Her hair was a thick, sable braid hanging over her shoulder, and her figure was delicately curved beneath a velvet gown. Will couldn’t imagine this woman had been married to King Frederick, no more than he could believe Teyrn Mason was her brother. Will was readying himself to address her when Alana beat him to it, stepping forward and offering her hand.
“My name is Alana,” she said. “This is Katz. And Will and Hannibal.”
The Queen took her hand. “Quite the rescue team. I’m Margot.”
If their handshake lasted longer than was normal, Will was certainly too whirly-minded to notice, and if any lingering glances were exchanged, his vision was too tiredly blurred to catch it, but shortly after expedient introductions, Alana was leading Margot to her walk-in closet and sifting through choices for a disguise, while Katz provided occasional remarks over their shoulders, such as, “too many sequins,” and “too many feathers.” As the women made their selections, Will was left alone with Hannibal, and for the first time in days, he couldn’t find a route of escape.
“Will,” came the templar’s voice at his back.
Will was turned away from him, pretending to admire the glass unicorns positioned on Margot’s vanity, but he couldn’t avoid seeing Hannibal’s reflection in the mirror, no matter how hard he tried to direct his eyes elsewhere. Even burdened beneath the guard helmet, those amber eyes sparkled, and Will’s cheeks grew warm to see the familiar figure behind him.
“Will,” Hannibal said again, taking another step forward and nearly crowding Will against the vanity. “We must speak.”
Will shook his head and braced his hands on the surface in front of him, making the unicorns tremble. He saw the hand reaching for his waist in the mirror, and spun around in time to slap it away. “No,” Will hissed beneath his breath. “Don’t.” He shoved past Hannibal and walked to the other side of the bedchamber, sweating beneath his helmet. Inside, his chest was pounding and his stomach was twisting. He shut his eyes and wished he could escape to the Fade and see his demon, let himself be held, but he couldn’t, because the demon was already in the room with him. Will was staving off a complete collapse of self, when Alana led Margot out of the closet, Katz following behind with a smile.
“This is the best we could come up with,” Alana said.
They’d dressed the Queen Regent in a bath robe. It was black and fuzzy and fell to her ankles.
“Erm…” Will muttered.
“I’m a Palace Mage,” Margot provided with a fretful brow.
“Yes,” Will agreed at once, trying not to noticeably cringe at her matching slippers. “That’s what I was going to say.”
Margot groaned and pulled at her braid. “It’s awful. But it’s the only thing I had that wasn’t, you know, Queenly. Mason had my riding trousers burned.”
“You make a lovely mage,” Hannibal offered, bowing to her politely.
Will was seething within his guard uniform. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, voice fraught with annoyance.
“Will is right,” Hannibal agreed with grating immediacy. “I fear we have already lingered too long.”
They gathered around the door, Alana cracking it open to look out into the hallway. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Okay,” Katz said, “all we need to do is sneak across the hallway and get to the door. We didn’t pass anyone other than servants and guards on the way in, and they were all too busy or lazy to notice us, so fingers crossed we get the same treatment twice.”
They waited for Margot’s nod of approval, and then quickly exited the bedchamber. Alana, her hand judiciously clasped on Margot’s wrist, led her through the open door first, and Katz was quick to follow. Hannibal tried to chivalrously guide Will through before him, but Will scowled and crossed his arms until the templar gave up and headed through the door. That left only Will standing in the hallway when the guards came around the corner.
“STOP RIGHT THERE!”
As was the sensible protocol before any mission, it had been discussed, before they’d embarked on their rescue, what would happen if one of them was killed or captured. They were to carry on with the mission, and the mission was to get the Queen Regent safely from the Palace. Any unsavory consequences could be dealt with following the completion of said mission. So Will wasn’t surprised when Katz and Alana kept dragging Margot down the staircase, even as the guards descended on him. And he wasn’t especially surprised when Hannibal leapt from the safety of the shadowed doorway, forsaking protocol and refusing to leave Will’s side. But he was surprised when the guard snuck up behind them and hit him hard in the back of the head.
Will had only enough consciousness left to notice Hannibal’s body slumping on the carpet beside him, and then a swiftly kicked boot to his face sent him into the black.
--
A slap across his face roused him.
“Will! Will!”
He groaned. His head rolled against a surprisingly soft surface. Warmth surrounded his face.
“Will?”
“Mmm.”
“Open your eyes.”
He did, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. But once they did, he saw Hannibal above him. Will’s head was resting in his lap, and the templar’s hands were gently framing his face.
“Will,” Hannibal whispered. “I was afraid you wouldn’t wake up.”
“Hannibal?” Will mumbled miserably. His head ached, and his body was freezing cold where it went untouched by the templar’s hands. He flexed his fingers and felt smooth, cold ground beneath him. “Where are we? What happened?”
Hannibal repositioned himself, carefully cradling Will’s head. “Can you sit up?”
Will nodded weakly, but even that miniscule motion was enough to make his head pound. Hannibal smoothed a hand around his back and kept the other secured at his neck until Will was reliably propped against a rough stone wall. The discovery that both men were stripped to their skivvies followed swiftly after.
“Well, at least I know why I’m so cold,” Will said, folding his arms across his shivering chest. He noticed Hannibal’s hand lingering at the back of his neck and recoiled. “Don’t touch me.”
Hannibal sat back on his heels, observing Will curiously for a moment, and then he stood. Will busied his eyes by soaking in the rest of the tiny square room they were in so he wouldn’t have to look at Hannibal’s backside, which was round and firm beneath his thin, white smallclothes.
“Are we in a dungeon?” Will asked when his eyes landed on the wall to his left made up entirely of iron bars. The other walls were rough stone, and all that resided within the room were the two of them.
Hannibal turned when he’d reached the wall opposite Will. “I believe we’ve been taken to Fort Drakon, in Denerim.”
“Fort Drakon?!” Will said, running his fingers through his knotted curls. He knew about Fort Drakon. Everyone knew about Fort Drakon. It was only Ferelden’s most impenetrable prison, reserved for the most dangerous criminals.
“Yes. We have been here for hours. I tried to procure you a glass of water, but the guard was very rude.”
Will groaned into his hands.
“Admittedly, this is not the most favorable outcome, but it could be far worse,” said Hannibal.
Will stole a glance at Hannibal through his fingers. “Did Alana and Katz get Margot out?”
The templar sighed. “I know no more than you. We can only hope they managed. They may be our only chance of escaping this place. Of course, there is another option.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, Will. There is a spell that can be performed that would combine our powers. I feel confident that, together, we could easily elude Fort Drakon’s incarceration.”
Will’s laugh was bitter. “You want me to use blood magic.”
“I want you to embrace your potential.”
“You want to turn me into an abomination,” Will spat, feeling his anger heat his shivering body. “Don’t pretend like that hasn’t been your endgame this entire time.”
“I have only ever wanted what is best for you, Will,” Hannibal said softly. He brushed a lock of hair from his forehead and Will gasped. Before he had time to check himself, he’d crossed the prison cell to Hannibal.
“You’re hurt,” Will whispered. His fingers gently touched the bruised swelling over Hannibal’s eye that his hair had been hiding. Will examined the injury until Hannibal’s hand settled on Will’s waist. Will jumped back as if electrocuted.
“Will,” Hannibal sighed, and it sounded almost like a plea.
“No!” Will yelled, turning in a desperate circle, yearning for a chance to escape. But there was no way out. He was trapped.
“You cannot avoid me forever,” Hannibal said softly.
“Oh, I absolutely can!” Will paced along his side of the cell, scraping his knuckles on the rough stone. “Watch me.”
“I am watching you,” Hannibal replied. “You are punishing yourself, speeding toward the edge of madness.”
“If I’m at the edge of madness, you put me there!” Will’s voice was broken and shrill and the angrier he became, the calmer Hannibal’s voice grew to counteract it.
“Tell me why you think that, Will.”
Will turned to face him. His eyes were watering and he was breathing hard. He couldn’t stand being so close to him. He couldn’t stand it. “You’re a demon!”
“Yes.” Hannibal cocked his head to the side. “But that’s not why you’re angry.”
“You lied to me, Hannibal!” Will screamed. “You manipulated me. You forced me to dream about you, made me need…” Will turned to the wall and slammed his fist into the stone. He heard the patter of bare feet as Hannibal walked to him. When he spoke, it was from inches away and still too far.
“Do you think I forced the times we shared in the Fade?” he asked, voice low and gentle. Will could feel Hannibal’s warm breath tickling the back of his neck and he shivered, but he did nothing to alter their distance. “I would remind you that you are a Dreamer, Will. And there was seldom a time you slept when you did not reach for me.”
Will froze. “What?”
“After I intervened during your Harrowing, it was you who continued to find me in the Fade. I never forced my presence on you. You came to me repeatedly, and I was disinclined to refuse.”
Will’s head spun from his effort to trace back his dreams. Was it true? Had it been Will finding his way back to the demon every time? Crawling into Hannibal’s subconscious? Seeking him out? Slowly, he turned around, cradling his bloody knuckles against his chest. “Even if that’s true,” he whispered, refusing to look up into Hannibal’s eyes, “you lied to me. Over and over.”
“I did not lie,” Hannibal said. “I waited until you were ready to see it for yourself.” He lifted his hand and cautiously, carefully, took Will’s bloody fist and pressed it to his chest. Hannibal’s skin felt hot against Will’s hand. “You were so afraid of demons, Will, and I needed to stay close to you, to keep you safe.”
Will was looking down at their intertwined fingers. Will’s blood was on Hannibal’s hands now, and smeared across his chest. “Why?” he asked after a quiet moment.
“I felt you before I saw you,” Hannibal began, his voice a worshipful whisper that made Will’s throat tighten. “When you were little and accidentally wandered into the Fade. All the demons could sense you. A Dreamer. Rare and powerful.” He lifted Will’s hand to his mouth, lightly brushing his lips against the broken skin. “I became a templar in your Circle soon after. To guard your mind and keep the other demons away.”
“Why would you do that?” Will breathed, not daring to look at the lips kissing gently over his knuckles.
“Because you are mine,” Hannibal said.
Will shook his head, tried to pull his hand away, but Hannibal held it tight.
“My sweet boy,” he whispered. “Look at me. Please.”
Will never could resist him for long, no matter what form he took. He looked up at him now, through tears and tangles, waiting for the words he knew would come.
“I am yours, Will.”
It was inevitable. It always had been.
Will pulled his hand from Hannibal’s and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders, his fingers digging cruelly into naked skin. He switched their positions, spinning Hannibal around and shoving him against the stone. And then he kissed him.
It wasn’t their first kiss. Will had kissed his demon in the Fade, again and again. And he had felt his demon’s hands run over his body countless times. But this was different. It was honest. It was real. It was Hannibal.
Will pressed their lips together. Hannibal’s mouth was hot and his lips were soft, and Will moaned as large hands glided down his hips and tightened over his ass, pushing their bodies together in a violent grind. Will gasped for breath, but didn’t break away, and Hannibal licked into his mouth, deepening the kiss and making Will’s knees give out beneath him. But Hannibal had him, and he would never let Will fall.
He picked him up, his hands hooking beneath Will’s knees, and he switched their positions once more, bracing Will’s back against the wall and kissing him fervently all the while. Will wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist, hooking his ankles together, and his hands…he let his hands get lost in Hannibal’s hair, combing through the silky soft strands he’d longed to touch for so long. When Hannibal bucked up against Will’s crotch, they both gasped, and Will tightened his fingers in Hannibal’s hair, pulling his head back to bite at his neck. His skin was salty and warm beneath Will’s tongue, but it wasn’t long until Hannibal was demanding his mouth again. And it was so much better than being together in the Fade. Hannibal’s skin was firmer and his lips were softer and the small sounds of pleasure he made as he kissed Will were sweeter.
And pressed up between the stone and the templar, Will forgot everything, except for the way Hannibal smelled, and the way his lips brushed against his, rough and then gentle, and the way their bodies seemed to align perfectly, his slighter hips curving into Hannibal’s big hands. While they kissed, Will couldn’t be angry at the things Hannibal had kept from him, because now he was giving everything back, giving it all.
He was Will’s.
And that heady power might have swallowed Will whole, and Will might have thrown Hannibal to the ground and straddled his waist. He might have kissed and bitten a trail down his demon’s stomach and ripped the thin cloth from his cock and stretched his lips around it. He might have sucked and licked and given Hannibal everything right back. He might have. No, he would have, but he didn’t, because, shortly after Hannibal had pressed him up against the wall and thrust his tongue into his mouth, a jingle of keys announced a presence outside their cell.
Breathless and blushing, Will slowly turned his head towards the bars, wrapping his arms around Will’s neck as Hannibal eased him carefully back down to his feet.
Not taking his hands off Will or even bothering to look away from him, Hannibal said, “May we help you?”
The guard standing on the other side of the bars had his weight shifted to one side, and a hand on his hip as he swung the set of keys on a crooked finger, a look of pure amusement on his face.
“I’m sorry,” answered the guard. “Should I come back and rescue you later?” His eyes roamed across their bare bodies, where Hannibal had kept their hips pressed together. “I can circle the cellblock and come back in, what, five minutes?”
Hannibal, still not taking his eyes off of Will, leaned in and kissed his mouth, before whispering, “Oh, I’ll require much more time than that.” When he pulled away, he was smiling. “But thank you for the offer, Alana. Considerate as always.”
Will’s eyes widened in shock as he looked from Hannibal to the guard who was definitely a man and definitely not – wait. He reluctantly pushed out of Hannibal’s arms and walked up to the bars, catching a flash of sky blue eyes. With a stunned, dramatic whisper, Will smushed his face against the bars and said in wonderment, “Alana?”
“I told you,” the guard replied, “I can shapeshift into a lot of things. Though, I have to admit, this form is not my favorite.” He – she? – tugged uncomfortably at her trousers. “I do hate to interrupt, but we really should get going. It’s only a matter of time until someone finds this guard’s body. I stashed it in the broom closet, but you never know who’s going to need the broom.”
Will glanced back at Hannibal, who had finally deigned to move from the wall and was stalking toward him across the cell with a wicked smile on his face. “Erm, yeah,” he stammered, distracted in every way possible by the nearly naked man stopping beside him and trailing his hand across Will’s lower back, applying the perfect pressure exactly where he needed it. “We should go. Thank you, Alana.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank,” she glanced down at the badge on her uniform, “Barney. He’s about to walk the two of you right out of here.” She set her keys into the lock and twisted. The bars creaked as she pushed.
“We’re just going to walk out of Fort Drakon?” Will asked.
“Sure,” Alana responded, throwing Will and Hannibal each a bundle of clothes that looked suspiciously like they’d been nabbed from the prison’s Lost and Found box. “I think you’ll find, Will, that the thing you build up to be the most impossible in your head, ends up being the easiest thing in the world.”
And when Will stepped free of Fort Drakon that night, with Hannibal’s hand in his, he found himself agreeing with Alana. Wholeheartedly.