The Sculpture And The Sculpted

Chapter 3

Will lay on the edge of sleep, the terrors of his waking nightmares now plaguing his dreams as well. Blood dripped from every surface, his father's men with the split throats and bashed in heads circling his bed like a ritual and he found the only escape to be either to close or open his eyes. At the moment he was closing them tightly and clutching his covers to him in some sort of pathetic shield against the onslaught of his subconscious.

Hushed footsteps outside of his door caught his attention when they passed and didn't stop to tend to the fireplace. No one just walked the halls at night. Will's inability to sleep had made it just that he knew well the comings and goings of the staff and he had also gained the decently accurate ability to tell who was passing by just the sound of their steps. But the ones he heard were not any Will could place.

He opened his eyes and found his room blessedly empty. No guts, no brains, no blood to drown in. He found his robe and this time his slippers to help fight the chill of the stone against his skin, and he slowly cracked open his door wide enough to peer down the hall.

He recognized the figure immediately as Hannibal. He was, after all, the only other child in the castle. Will didn't see other children usually unless there was a party to attend. So, Hannibal it was, dressed in a heavy cloak and carrying a single lit candle in his outstretched hand.

Will's mind raced through all of the reasoning behind what Hannibal could be doing, but the only conclusion he could come up with, based on the thickness of the cloak, was that Hannibal was planning to go outside.

Will closed the door behind him and started down the hall, doing his best to stay quiet, merely wanting to observe, but Hannibal immediately came to a halt and Will could see the sigh leave his shoulders.

"If you're going to come along, do stay quiet," Hannibal whispered, though his voice carried down the hall to Will easily and Will realized that even his most silent of steps would still be heard just as if he were inside of a cave. "I cannot risk any of the adults finding me."

"What are you doing?" Will asked back, making sure to keep his voice as low as he could while he hurried to catch up to Hannibal. "You shouldn't be out."

"Neither should you." Hannibal's eyes glittered in the candlelight as Will came to stand beside him. "A prince needs his rest, after all."

"Stop calling me a prince," Will quipped. "It's getting on my nerves."

"Good." Hannibal inhaled deeply, turning the light of the candle forward. "You'll need to wear something warmer for where I'm going."

"Where are you going?"

Hannibal's head lolled to the side as if the question were the largest inconvenience for him and Will's brows furrowed as he tried not to take offense at the weird gesture.

"I need to get my sister. She is still out there."

Will's hand shot out and took Hannibal's arm when he tried to keep walking. "Not even my father's men could bring her back. The winter is too harsh now. Let her be."

The absolute pain that filled Hannibal's eyes made Will's guts twist in his abdomen and he wanted to retract the statement. "She'll be fine out there."

"I am not leaving my sister out-"

"It's like the larder." Will hoped his explanation made sense. "The larder keeps the meat cold so we can eat it later, right? The snow will help keep your sister-"

"There are no animals in the larder," Hannibal hissed, pulling his arm free from Will's grip and causing the candlelight to dance across the walls. "They're going to hold a funeral for my parents but not my sister because she was forced to that hunting lodge by Sanford's men, and I will not have my parents separated from their only daughter."