The Sculpture And The Sculpted

Chapter 35

Hannibal felt like drowning in the scents that came from the dining hall. His mouth watered and he did his best to keep his stride steady instead of a mad dash towards the food. He couldn't recall the last time he had had a proper meal. Months ago. But if he had waited that long, then he could wait for a few moments more while he walked beside his king.

"And they have almost finished designing the aqueducts. I shall have to show you later," Will pressed on with a grin, the words flowing freely and happily. It left Hannibal wondering how long it had been Will had fully smiled because the staff they passed eyed the King hesitantly. Or perhaps it was the ghost of him they were caught off guard by. "And once those are in place, then I'm going to start work on the university. Perhaps you could help me with finding books for the library."

"I'm not sure I am in quite a place to offer that sort of assistance any longer," Hannibal chuckled, ignoring the way his stomach growled at him in annoyance. "My mind has been wrapped up in war for so long that I doubt it would recall anything about proper readings."

"You won't have to fight again now that you're at my side. I promise you that," Will assured in that same boyish way that he always seemed to wear. He was so sure everything would turn out for the best, despite everything that had happened and Hannibal found the quality rather endearing.

They reached the dining hall and the doors were opened for them with deep bows from the servants. Hannibal took in the familiar room with the large table running down its middle. It seemed that Beverly had been able to gather enough people from the court to make the dinner a bit fuller. Music played and several couples danced while others were littered about the room, chattering lightly with drinks in hand.

Hannibal inhaled deeply, his bones finally feeling at rest. He was home. He had never been so happy to see the dullness of aristocracy. He would take a dreadful dinner party over shoveling the stables any day. But perhaps that was the young count in his blood speaking. A young count who had never truly known hard labor until he was banished to France.

Hannibal's gaze fell back to Will who wore an amused little smile on his lips as he accepted a drink from a passing servant with a loaded tray.

"What?" Hannibal asked, taking his own drink and sipping it lightly. It was smoother than any of the alcohol he had huffed down in Spain. Will chuckled behind his drink and Hannibal could feel the heat rise to his cheeks. "What is it? What have I done?"

Will shrugged and shook his head, waving away the concern. "You have not done anything. I have just always thought that you belonged in the upper class. It's in your blood. You wear it better than I ever could."

Hannibal blinked slowly as he allowed the words a moment to settle. He let himself smile as well and nodded thoughtfully. "I was always far more equipped for it than you, wasn't I?"

"Now, don't get ahead of yourself," Will warned playfully. "We mustn't let your ego become too big."

"Of course. One must always stay humble." Hannibal nodded in agreement, looking over the people in attendance. They were faces he knew, but none that he wished to speak to, save for Brian and James who were laughing in a corner, faces red with drink.

Will must have noticed Hannibal's attention shift because he motioned to the two guards. "You're welcome to speak to your friends. I do not wish to steal your company all night. We will have much time later."

Hannibal's chest twinged at the words and he winced, a hand going to run through his blond locks. "Are you certain?"

"Very," Will assured, once more waving to the two men. "I have other business to take care of for the time being. Welcome home, Commander." Will gave Hannibal a warm smile before drifting off through the crowd and leaving Hannibal alone.