Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Will Frost had been on his own for quite a few years, before he saw the first of them. He didn't have any expectations of being seen in return by now, but his curiosity made him follow anyway.
It wasn't every day after all, that you saw a giant bunny with a basket full of painted eggs.
The whole purpose of the guy's trip around the park seemed to be hiding those eggs, all over the place, in every bush and nest of roots.

Well, I can help him with that, Will thought to himself, and called upon his friend, the North wind.
Within moments a fluffy looking blanket of pristine white snowflakes began to settle over the area.
Will smiled to himself, enjoying the feeling of helping out a fellow...what? Well, he wasn't one of the humans, the way he looked and acted, so Will just assumed he was more like him. An outsider to that warm and colourful world that called itself humanity.

Evidently though, the fellow didn't seem quite as pleased with Will's assistance as Will had hoped.
“Oi! Would you cut it out mate?” he bellowed, looking strayed at where Will was standing in the branches of a naked maple tree. Could the guy actually see him?
“I'm talking to you, mate! Cut that crap before everything gets covered, you're messing with my work here!”

Will leaned his head to the side, taking in this latest development.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked the six foot tall rabbit, that seemed to be getting more aggravated by the minute.
“Why would I care who you are, eh? I can tell you what I care about though, what I care about is my Holiday! Which you are messing with right now, so cut your bloody crap and fuck off!”

Well, if the guy had any answers to Will's questions he seemed rather unwilling to share them. He also seemed to be rather unpleasant in general, short tempered, egotistic, rude. And certainly in no way deserving of his good will or assistance.

Will raised his hands in mock surrender, lowering his chin to indicate his bow to the bunny's superiority. As if.
“I wouldn't dream of messing with your special day,” he grinned.
“So I'll just let you hop along and do whatever it is that kangaroos do on this oh so special day,” he said, deepening his bow, then swiftly straitening into a jump high into the cold air, letting his friend the North wind catch him and carry him away from the now raging bunny.

“I think this town could do with a little more snow, wouldn't you agree?” Will called out to the north wind.
“And ice, everyone loves ice skating,” he laughed., as the wind picked up in strength and turned into a small blizzard, burying the small town and park underneath a mountain of snow.

Will hovered for a bit, suspended high above the town, surrounded by heavy grey clouds, watching as everything quieted down after the initial frenzy of people there seeking cover and protection from the cold.

“The first time I meet someone remotely like me, and he turns out to be such an ass.” he sighed, shoulders finally sinking down under the weight of disappointment. He'd really just wanted to help the fellow, there had been no reason to be so rude about it, had there?
“Well, what's done is done. Though I do not expect him to learn anything at all from it.”
He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, stretching his arms out and leaning into the soothing coolness of the wind.
“Take me home, friend,” he said, and let himself be carried away.

                                                                                                                 *

“He called me a kangaroo! Do I look like a bloody kangaroo to you?!” the bunny exclaimed while furiously gesturing down his fur covered body.

Jack leaned back in the big red wingbackchair by the fireplace, contemplatively letting the fingers of his right hand wander through his beard while Brian continued to rant and gesticulate.
They'd seen the new spirit a few times from afar, shortly after his creation, of course. Everyone had agreed it would be a good idea to keep an eye on him to begin with, just to see what kind of spirit he would turn into. Wouldn't do to be surprised by another boogeyman, after all.
They had equally agreed to leave him to his own devices for the time being, no one having the first clue what the Man in the Moon had created him for, and how it would, or would not, fit in with their little group.
They were guardians, after all.
Now though he wondered if maybe they had left formal introductions for a bit too long. Obviously Will Frost seemed less than impressed with their status. They'd have to remedy that, before it could turn into a real issue.

“We should invite him over, properly introduce ourselves,” Jack cut in, before Brian could continue on his rant.
“We what now? Jack, you can't be serious!” Brian dropped his hands, looking utterly gob smacked by that suggestion.
“He is a rude, spiteful, irritating, holiday ruining, snow throwing trouble maker! Whatever would we want to invite him for?! If anything we should warn him away, not invite him in!”
“It might all have been just a misunderstanding, Brian, we should-”
“A misunderstanding?!” the bunny exclaimed, cutting him off. “He ruined Easter, Jack! Buried my eggs under a bloody blizzard! How is that a misunderstanding?!”

Jack let his hand drop to the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in a bid for patience.
“If you are quite finished?” he admonished the bunny, who finally seemed to realize that his ill timed outbursts where getting him nowhere with his friend and fellow Guardian.
Brian raised his hands in surrender, indicating the henceforth ceasing of his commentary for the duration of Jack's talk.
“As I was saying, it might have been a misunderstanding, a simple case of miscommunication.” Jack let his hand sink back down to the armrest of the chair.
“And even if that's not the case, it would be a good opportunity to take his measure, see what we'd be up against if this turns bad.” Jack's gaze held Brian's, pinning him to the spot with its weight.
“The important part is that we have to do whatever it takes to keep Will Frost away from him! Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal,” Brian answered, standing steady and leaning towards Jack, as if to brace for what was to come.

“Good. Then lets leave it at that for now, get the others and then we'll see where to go from here. We need to stand together in this.”

Right now Will Frost was without known allegiance. A trouble maker, yes, but nothing that would truly put him on the dark side of stories.
So far the other hadn't shown any interest in him, but if he was to openly rebel against the Guardians, that might soon change. Frost might be a joker now, but that didn't mean he could be easily disregarded should he chose to truly stand against them. It was best to not let it get that far in the first place, best to not let him come within reach of the other at all.

Chapter Text

The harpy smugly eyed the imposing form from her perch on the wall, her greedy eyes conveying a certainty in the importance of her message that her conversational partner this afternoon had come to trust in. His black antlers were reaching high above her shape on the wall, his black skin lending her rust colored feathers an illusion of fiery heat against his dark coolness. She was a rude little thing, and were circumstances different, she would have graced Hannibal's table a long time ago. But, she was also efficient, as ruthless as she was greedy, which was the norm for her kind, but she was also observant and quick witted. She was smart enough to realize when it would be to her advantage to control her greed and hunger, when to offer something up to the right party, to get an even greater return in the end.

And what she was offering now was information. Information she knew Hannibal would be able to use to his advantage.

“So dear Santa has send almost all his helpers through the gateways, just to capture one spirit, this Will Frost?” he mused, hands behind his back and meandering along the old wall slowly, allowing the harpy to keep pace with him, just.
She flared her wings slightly, their rust red color catching the sunlight, adding to her balance while her long claws dug into crumbling mortar, moss, and grey stone, following sure footed despite the gangly looks of it.
“Yes, but they keep missing him. He's too quick even for the yetis. Just disappears every time they try and make a grab for him.”
“Surely someone with Jack's resources would be capable of having a few helpers lie in wait on the other side of the closest gates, even if it is on short notice. From what I've heard so far Will Frost doesn't cross on his own power, after all. Or if he does he manages to do so without any trace of it, in which case I could see how dear Jack's little rug army might be a bit vexed by now.” A cruel little up twist settled in the left corner of his mouth at that thought. He could see why Frederica thought these news might be of interest to him. Though if this was all she had to offer, he would have to re-evaluate his opinion of her intellect. He might be amused, but not to the extend that he would pay what she seemed to expect in value.
The harpy did not disappoint, though.
“But he doesn't, that's the thing.”
Hannibal stopped, turning his body towards where she was perched now next to him, having caught up with his stride. A slight raise of his eyebrows invited her to elaborate on that latest bit of news.
“He doesn't cross. Ever. At least not that anyone knows of.”
Deep red eyes bored into hers, reaching behind the masks and the tricks, right into her core, testing the truth of her words.
She should know better than to lie to the Nightmare King, but she would also not be the first to have taken that gamble, and lost.
But the longer Hannibal held her gaze, the clearer it became that she did in fact speak the truth, to the best of her knowledge.
Finally his intense focus lessened, and the harpy had to hold back an obvious breath of relieve, lest she would show how much he truly intimidated even her.

“Surely that can't be true?” he went on, as if nothing noteworthy had just transpired between them.
“A spirit that doesn't cross, not even through the gates? If he were that weak than he would be of no interest to Jack. Certainly not of enough interest to send his buffoons after him.”

The harpy inclined her head. “Of course I can't say for sure that Will Frost doesn't cross, or that no one ever saw him do so, but if he did then I haven't heard of it, and we both know that I hear most things, and long before the rest of the realms.” A fact, that, and one that had her kept off the menu thus far, as they both knew.

He nodded in acknowledgement, taking up his slow walk along the wall again. Things were becoming interesting now. Not interesting enough to explain why Frederica had sought him out, though.

“I've heard of one spirit, though...” Ah. Now they were getting to the heart of the matter.
He inclined his head a fraction of an inch, enough to be visible in the re-positioning of his deep black antlers towards her, bidding her to continue.
“A Rusalka, residing in the Swamp, close to your southern border.” The harpy looked up through her lashes. In another species it might have looked like she was affecting flirtatious behavior, but to Hannibal, who knew better, it signaled that the stage had been sufficiently set, and it was time for her big reveal. He almost hoped for her sake, that it was as big as she thought.
“The girl was born in the human world, her father a human,” Frederica continued.
“When her mother revealed her true nature and that she intended to cross back with their daughter, he went went mad, as they do.” They being the humans. They had a history of reacting rather intensely to people from the realms, for better or worse. Usually it was for the worse, in his experience.
“He cut the mother's throat with an iron blade, almost killed the girl, too. But Frost intervened. Pushed him off her with a gale of wind and then impaled him on the branches of a fallen tree, where he bled out. That was about 50 years ago, in their world.” She smiled, waiting for him to pick up her lead.
Hannibal could appreciate a well set stage, and decided to grant her the satisfaction.
“And how do you come to know of this? And for that matter, who else does?” he asked.
“No one else, the girl assured me. Of course I can't guaranty that she kept her word, but I think it unlikely she spread it. I would have heard.” Hannibal nodded to himself, appearing to mull that over. It had to be good enough.
So Will Frost was willing to kill, given the right incentive. Interesting. Not so weak, then.
“Did she say what happened after he saved her?” he inquired.
“Indeed she did, but I'm afraid their association did not last very long beyond that point,” the harpy answered him.
“There were other humans close by, drawn no doubt by the noise of the alteration. They were already near a crossing, so the Rusalka went on ahead, believing Frost would follow. When she turned what she deemed a safe distance from the crossing on our side, he was not behind her, though.” She inclined her head, as if in consideration. “She went back later, to look for him, no doubt influenced by the debt she owed him, but he was gone by the time she made it back to their side.”

It seemed that there could be something to this idea indeed, given this anecdote. Their kind hardly chose to escape humans chasing them by running in the human world, if there was a crossing within easy reach. There was also the matter of Will's protectiveness of the Rusalka. Surely if he went to such lengths to save the little nymph from her murderous father, he would want to reassure himself his help was not in vain, and the girl not fatally wounded, in need of help? Not going after her did not fit with Will's actions up to that point, at least.
It might be prudent to talk to the nymph himself. Too often important details and nuances of a tale got lost within the translation, when the tales were recounted by another's tongue, no matter how good a teller of stories that other was. Things were always freshest and the least corrupted when taken straight from the source.
“And the Rusalka resides in the most southern parts of the Swamp, you say?” he addressed the harpy once more.
“Yes, my lord. In the area around the mourning willow last I heard, where the swamp is closest to the Meadow Lands,” she promptly replied.
“Hm.” Hannibal lifted his right hand absently towards the trees while contemplating this, and within a moment the shadows between the trunks seemed to swirl and condense, giving shape to a black mare that made its way towards his outstretched hand. It bumped its nose gently against Hannibal's palm in greeting.
Frederica eyed the Nightmare distrustfully. There where rumors of how they came to be, created from stolen dream sand and infused with old nights magic, raw, strong and wild, though this one appeared tame as a pet next to its creator. Appearances so often were misleading.
“And her name?” Hannibal asked, not bothering to look her way again.
“Abigail,” Frederica swiftly replied. He let his hand wander along the Nightmares head, petting her gently.
“Your tale has indeed been of interest to me, you did well telling me without delay,” he continued their conversation. “I imagine the swiftness of your travel did not leave much time for hunt or rest. Please, allow me to repay your diligence by offering food and respite for you, until you are well rested once more.

The harpy graciously inclined her head in acceptance of the invitation. The Nightmare King's table was fabled throughout the realms. Feared, but fabled. As was the luxury of his dark halls. She would rest and feast, and then move on with her bounty before there was a chance of outstaying her welcome.

No more words were needed between them, Frederica turning to fly on to the dark castle and its banquet hall, while Hannibal turned his attention now fully towards the Nightmare.
“Abigail.” He continued to pet his dark companion, scratching the claws of his black skinned hand through the mares mane behind her ears. “You will find dear Abigail, you will find her hunting ground, her favorite prey, her weaknesses, anything of significance, and you will report it back to me,” he whispered into the mares attentive ear.
With a final stroke to her strong neck he stepped back, giving her space to move.
“Go.”
With a jump and a trail of black glittery dust the mare disappeared to do Hannibal's bidding.

“Will Frost. What does old man Jack want from you, I wonder? A spirit that is not afraid to spill blood and won't cross into the realms.” He stood still in contemplation for another moment, before slowly turning back towards his castle, decisiveness and anticipation quickening his stride with every step, the little uptick returning to the corner of his mouth. Things were about to get interesting.

Chapter Text

The gathering of spirits was quite impressive, despite its small number. What they lacked in numbers they made up for in might. These spirits where the ones children believed in the most in this day and age, and with belief came strength, in both worlds.
They were also the ones people wanted to believe in, for as long as they were capable of such a thing.
After all, who wouldn't want a coin under their pillow for every lost tooth, chase through the parks in search of bright coloured treasures, find beribboned presents under their Christmas tree once a year, and be gently lulled into the sweetest dreams by magical sand?

It is easy to believe when believing brings so much fun, one could say.

Right now though there did not seem to be much fun to be had between the lot of them.
The expressions ranged from somber to worried, with a side of disbelief here and there.

“Are we really thinking Will Frost would join up with him, though?” Beverly Toothiana asked into the room at large, her jewel bright wings fluttering anxiously, keeping her hovering in place, similar to the humming birds she resembled.
“I mean yes, his pranks can be a bit on the harsh side,” and Brian couldn't quite suppress his huff of annoyance here, his long ears twitching in irritation when remembering frozen eggs and abandoned egg hunts on suddenly wintry spring days. “But he never has given any reason to make us believe he'd be even capable of that level of cruelness, right? I mean, we're talking about the Nightmare King here! What would he even want with a joker like Will Frost?” Her eyebrows were raised in question, her whole demeanor beseeching them to reconsider their stance.

Jimmy Sanderson Mansnoozie, or Sandy for short, was the only one actually meeting her gaze, but all he had to offer was a shrug of his shoulders and an answering gaze almost as confused as hers.
Jimmy's attention was turned towards Jack St. North, who he knew would have the last word in this no matter what objections the other's might come up with. Things just tended to turn out that way in their little group, and so far it had worked well for them.
And Jack didn't disappoint, turning from his view onto the large globe in the middle of the room back towards them, his full attention now on the fluttering fairy questioning the wisdom of his actions.
“As much as I agree with your initial assessment of the situation, and of Will Frost himself, Beverly, I still think we ought to exercise every precaution here. Frost's prank on Bunnymund and Easter might just have been that, a prank, but who is to say that it will end here? You've said yourself that his pranks can sometimes run on the harsh side, and we know very well what an opportunist the Nightmare King is! And who would protect Will Frost then? Even if Frost were to decline the Nightmare King, when has that ever stopped him?” Jack lowered his head lightly in appeal, his eyes not losing any of their intensity while holding Beverly's as he continued on. “Last time we barely stopped him, and we only managed it at all because he was not prepared for us at that time. We can't risk him gaining strength once more, Beverly, even if that means inviting Will Frost a bit more forceful than we'd like. We might be the best chance he's got of getting out of this in one piece, after all.”
Beverly turned her head, conceding Jack's point, but still not quite willing to let the matter rest entirely.
“You have to admit though that it would definitely send a friendlier message to simply invite him for a chat, instead of sending a horde of Yetis out to capture him from wherever he happens to be at the time.” she argued.

Even Bunnymund had to give her that one. Sandy had never appeared quite sold on the strategy either, but he also never really questioned Jack's decision outright.

But Jack took it in stride, shaking his head with a self depreciating smile. “To have any capturing happening they'd have to bloody find him first,” he laughed.
“Swear I don't know how he does it. He's not using any of the crossings, and there's nothing there indicating that he crosses under his own power, but it's already a success if they manage to get within 50 feet of him!” he grouses. “That guy's even more slippery than the ice he loves to leave on the roads.”

*

The sun was beginning to set over the swamp, warm rays dappling golden spots on rotten tree trunks and deceptively solid looking stretches of green.
The light would be fading fast now, soon leaving the treacherous grounds waters to be illuminated by nothing but fireflies and fox fires. As quiet and as tranquil the swamp appeared in the light of day, it was equally dangerous come nightfall, when the majority of its inhabitants woke and came out to hunt in its dark waters.

Abigail wanted to make her move before then, while her prey was still largely uncontested.

The man had wandered into her corner of the swamp some hours ago, from the Moss Gate crossing, and promptly lost any sense of orientation soon after that. She had heard his heavy footfalls as soon as he'd entered the swamp lands, felt their vibrations in the water. Human, they announced. No swamp dweller would give away their position half as clumsy as that, and no subject of the Realms would enter any swamp as unprepared as this at all.
She'd followed him silently for about two hours, watched him becoming increasingly frustrated by his lack of progress, realizing he'd been walking in circles.
From what she'd seen he did not carry anything that could bring true harm to her, but she'd waited, observed. 'Be observant. Do not hurry after your quarry if you can wait it out and lure it to you,' she remembered her mother's voice whispering into her ear, while they watched a youth wandering along the river bench. He'd been her first victim. Her mother's smile had been so proud....

A sigh accompanied by a rustling of leaves brought her attention back to the here and now, and her intended prey.
The man had given up on walking in circles a while ago, and had been sitting on the roots of an old tree next to the water for close to two hours now, with nothing better to do than ripping small parts of fauna into tiny shreds between his restless fingers.
Abigail slid quietly backwards out of her hiding spot. She'd back down towards the Moss Gate a little, and then would come down the path out of the same direction he'd originally walked in from. He couldn't fail but see her once she came close, pretending to just pass by on her way.

*

The lone stranger next to the water quickly rose to his feet at the sound of approaching footsteps.
It had been hours since he'd entered this part of the forest, and even longer since he'd seen another soul cross his path.
“Hello?” he called out towards where he thought the sound originated. “Is there anybody there?” Quiet answered him, as he stood and waited.
But not long after his calling out the footsteps picked up once more and now appeared to come closer towards his direction, hesitating a little, before he saw a young woman in a white sundress slowly round one of the larger trees, her pale hand resting against the moss covered bark.
“Hello,” she answered. “Are you the one who has just been calling?”
“Oh thank goodness!” he exclaimed, his thin lips widening into a welcoming smile in the face of her hesitant approach.
His hands were free of greenery now, emphasizing his words with wide and open gestures.
“My sincerest apologies if I have startled you, but I have been lost for hours now and you are the first person I have come across since I have entered these woods.”
He gestured around himself, his motions becoming a bit slower, bearing less obvious anxiousness and turning more cautiously excited instead.
His explanation was greeted with a small laugh and returning smile by the young woman, and she carefully guided her feet over the treacherous roots to join him by the waterline, all her attention directed down towards the path in front of her when she answered: “It's quite alright, I was just a bit surprised. Not many people come along here, especially not this late in the day.” Her gaze lifted up to his, once she had passed the trickiest bit of the roots, her smile open and friendly now. “This part of the swamp gets rather hard to navigate once the light starts fading. Most prefer not to risk it, despite the beauty.”
“Yes, well,” he answered, “I didn't really plan on it, even if the view is rather stunning.” He lowered his head a bit, his eyes shining with a conspiratorial gleam at her now.
Leaning in slightly, he lowered his voice and continued;“I might have been a bit too confident in my abilities to navigate without a map. That'll teach me, I suppose.”
They shared a laugh about his overestimation of his skills when confronted with the local fauna, both relaxed and comfortable now in each other's presence.
Abigail infused her voice with a little more enthrallment then, her fingers giving the appearance of absent-minded consolation when moving towards the man's wrist, a touch designed to pull him further under her spell. “Don't worry,” she smiled at him, “your maid in shining armor has arrived,” and her hand slid along his wrist and into his hand, intertwining their fingers.
But when she leaned back towards the waterline, intend on slowly pulling him into the dark, still waters of the swamp, he stood fast, his grip on her hand tightening.
The friendly smile that had graced his face just a moment ago now bore a wicked edge to it, all the friendliness gone like the last tendrils of a dream upon waking.
His eyes took on an intensity far beyond anything a human was capable of, a reflection of centuries in a world harsher and darker than Abigail's little corner of the swamp could ever claim to be.
When their warm brown color changed to a deep and very inhuman red, she knew she'd walked right into a trap, instead of setting one.

“On second thought I believe I will stay a little longer, and enjoy the sunset to its fullest extend. Would you care to join me?”
The strong grip still keeping her hand trapped gave her no illusions about the lack of choice for her in this matter.

She put on her most charming smile once more, with a slight edge to it she could not quite suppress, now that she began to feel the extend of danger she was in, her intended victim turning out to be a predator far beyond anything she'd ever cared to cross paths with.

“I believe I will,” she inclined her head in acquiescence.
The stranger's grip on her loosened a fraction then, his fingers quickly changing position to hold her hand aloft, as if he were just a gentleman, escorting his lady to her seat. Together they stepped towards the old tree, the roots of which had been his seat when she had first stepped into the scene, thinking herself the predator in it. How wrong she had been.

Chapter Text

A whirlwind of snowflakes touched on the highest branches of the old fir tree, dissipating the moment its passenger alighted on one of them.

Will Frost gave a wave of thanks to his friend the North Wind, then closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath of the cold air.
All around him, as far as the eye could reach and then some, was cold clear air and snowy tree tops.
And silence. No cars, no words, no footsteps. Not even birds disrupted the tranquility of the moment. He'd just escaped another attempt by a group of Yeti to capture him, the third this month. This was getting tiring in its pointlessness.
With his eyes still closed and head leaned back, Will stated; "You can come out now." Nothing moved. "It's not exactly like you've tried to hide your presence in the first place. I know you're not with them, so I won't run if you show yourself, unless you give me a reason of course."
Another minute past, before the slow but heavy sound of hoofs reached his ears.
When he turned his head down to the left, a huge raven stag emerged from in between the fir trees.
The black of its coat was dark as old night, before the first stars adorned her depths. Interspersed with the inky blackness were shiny raven feathers, reflecting the light in the way that oil spills do, colorful like a rainbow while losing none of their dark nature to the bright of day.

Majestic antlers crowned the stags had, while deep red eyes fixed on Will, taking him in, as if to challenge.
But Will just crossed his arms and waited, knowing quite well that the stag was more than just a simple animal, or even a magical one.
From one moment to the next the black coat fell away, seemingly evaporating into black dust, blown away by the non existent breeze, and a human looking man stood in his place, now wearing a dark suit with red tie instead of fur and antlers. A strikingly attractive face with high cheekbones, warm brown eyes, and a touch of a smile around the corners of the thin but well defined lips greeted Will.
Will smirked at him.
"Really? You expect me to believe that?" He gave a rueful shake of his head before directing his look back towards the man. "I think you can do better than that, wouldn't you say? Might as well go all out, this is your chance to impress me," he spread his arms in invitation.

The man didn't answer with words, but put one hand over his heart while extending his other arm to the side in an elegant arc and bowed his head, as if to apologize for a less than stellar performance.
The dark suit now seemed to melt and flow, stretching out to cover slightly elongating fingertips and curved claws with its darkness, sinking into the stretching skin and coloring it black once more.
The whole figure seemed to extend, gain height as well as a gravity of presence.
When the head was raised once more it bore the crown of antlers again, still majestic above the more human face, and with a grace of movement that made it appear like there was no real weight to it, no difficulty in navigating the large spiked things through branches and trees, natural as breathing. A grace granted by many years of practice and the comfort of experience.
The eyes had turned from their assumed brown hues back to dark reds, though without losing any of their warmth.
Instead of the suit the creature appeared to wear some form of coat, close around the chest and upper body, while flaring out around hip height to give plenty of leg room and accommodate wide strides.
It reminded Will a bit of the cassocks some of the human priests preferred to wear.

“Does this meet with your approval then?” His words where measured and precise, the voice rich but not overwhelming. An invitation, not a siege.
Will smiled, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Certainly beats the previous performance,” he remarked, letting his eyes wander from tip to toe, taking the stranger in in his entirety. He cut a very impressive figure, truth be told. But then he looked like he was well aware of that already, so why waste the breath in stating the obvious?
“Is there a reason you've been following me around then? I mean it's become obvious rather quickly that you've get nothing to do with them,” he gestured behind himself without turning around, to where he'd come from in his latest escape from the yetis. “But it does seem to me rather a lot of effort to expand that much energy for just the pleasure of my silent company.”
The stranger inclined his head at that.
“I reassure you I did not plan on keeping it this way, dear Will, but you seem to be rather occupied currently, and I was not quite sure you would be inclined to welcome yet another stranger under present circumstances.”
“The giant fur balls, you mean?” he turned to look over his shoulder, as if he could still make them out in the distance. “Yeah, they are rather persistent, I'll give them that.”
He turned back again. “You have me at a disadvantage though,” Will continued. “You know my name, but I've got no idea what to call you. Might make this,” he gestured with his hand between them, “a little difficult.”
“Of course, I apologize for the oversight.” The being stepped closer towards the fir tree still holding Will in its branches. “My name is Hannibal, but I am more commonly referred to as the Nightmare King.”
He stopped his approach with his head leaned back, having kept his gaze on Will the whole time.
“Would you please come down from there now? I'm afraid it's giving me rather a creak in the neck if we are going to continue our conversation.”
That drew a chuckle out of Will. Nightmare King. Not boastful at all, are we? he thought to himself, before taking a step out into the empty air and simply gliding down to the ground, as if weighing nothing more than a common snowflake, while red eyes traced his descend.

Standing right in front of him, the creature, Hannibal, appeared even taller. He had a good head on Will in this form, and that was without the antlers.
“Hello, Will.”
“Hello, Hannibal,” Will grinned, one hand around his staff, the other resting on his hip.
His stance was not confrontational though, merely present, waiting.
“Soooo,” he continued, “want to tell me about why you've been following me around? And if it was meant to be stealthy or anything like that, I've gotta say you really need to work on that, buddy!” he smiled.
“Not stealthy at all, I assure you. I wished for you to be more comfortable with my presence before approaching you further.” Hannibal let his eyes move past Will, and into the direction they'd both come from, following the latest chase. When he look back, Will had his eyebrow raised in question, waiting for him to elaborate further.
“You see, there are not many beings that would deem themselves comfortable in my presence, and you are being pursued as we speak, so I did not wish to take any unnecessary chances.” he admitted.
Will's eyebrow lowered, and his face took on a look of consideration, while he silently weighed Hannibal's words.
“Thanks,” he finally said. “I appreciate that. It's very considerate of you. Unlike some others I could think off.” and the smile was back on his face.
“Yes, Jack does have a bit of a forceful approach on occasion. He's rather impatient when it comes to things outside his Holiday, it appears.” Hannibal returned.
“Jack?”
“Jack St North, or Father Christmas, or Santa Claus, as he is known outside the Realms. The one who send the Yetis to 'invite' you for a chat.” Hannibal clarified.
“Huh.” Will took a moment to ponder that over. Father Christmas was sending out his helpers to, essentially, abduct Will, because he wanted to chat? Really?
“So, seeing as you apparently are better informed about my fan club than I am, would you also happen to know why he wants to speak with me? And why he didn't simply send an invitation, instead of having me chased all over the globe?”
“From what I've been given to understand, it seems Jack wants you because he is convinced that I want you. Or that I will want you, if he does not get to you first.”
Will's eyes had steadily grown larger with Hannibal's explanation, his shoulders curling in, and now he finally let loose the laughter that had been building in his chest, bending over with one hand on his knee for support, the other on his staff still for balance.

Hannibal could feel the beginnings of an indulgent smile curl around the corner of his lips.
He liked the sound of Will's laughter, he decided. It was refreshing to be in the presence of one that did not fear him to the extend that he would suppress any outward display of his emotions.
He waited for Will to catch his breath, before addressing him again.
“I take it this idea amuses you?”
“Well, yeah,” Will returned, still slightly out of breath, “I mean how could it not? Leaving aside the fact that Santa of all made his own fears come true by initiating this little chase of his, since you would not be here talking to me in the first place otherwise, whatever gave him the idea that a worldwide manhunt would convince anyone to join his side of the story, whatever it is that's going on between the two of you, never mind someone that's clearly not very fond of authority for authorities sake like me?”
Hannibal had to agree with Will. The whole thing was incredibly poorly thought out, when taking into consideration who it was applied to. Within the first day of watching him from afar, Hannibal had been able to tell that Will was a spirit not easily subdued, and unlikely to respond favorably to threats of any kind. Jack had grossly miscalculated his approach. Hannibal had half a mind to send him a little Thank-You card for it.
To Will he said; “We're talking about a man that wears bright red clothes and decorates a flying sleigh with bells, only to sneak into people's homes through the chimney. I'm not quite sure Jack knows the meaning of subtle.”
“You might have a point there,” Will conceded. “So...Jack St North is worried that I'll take an interest in you, hmm? And apparently that would not be a good thing.” He raised his eyebrows at Hannibal, waiting for the other shed some more light on the situation.
“Yes, well,” Hannibal takes up the invitation, “I think it is rather obvious that Jack and I hardly see eye to eye in most matters. One could say there is a bit of a rivalry of sorts going on between us.”
His calm exterior betrayed nothing of his inner musings to Will. Everything about Hannibal was cool, calm, measured. Precise. No involuntary twitches, no erratic movements or tells from what Will could see. Over all Hannibal exuded an aura of calm self control, and a certain tranquility, that reminded Will of the endless night sky on a new moon, just before its depths began to let the light of morning sun creep back into its folds.
For Will, who was oh so very perceptive to other's moods and thoughts, who still sometimes got overwhelmed by the intensity of emotions not his own after centuries spend in this form, the effect was one of until this moment unknown peace and calm. Hannibal's presence extinguished every other in their vicinity, eclipsing them simply by its sheer gravity. But instead of being overwhelmed by it, Will found himself relax into it, appreciating the quietness it brought to his otherwise restless mindscape.

Hannibal didn't expand on his explanation, and Will didn't push for it. For once he was perfectly content not to question anything, luxuriating in the here and now.

Chapter Text

The following months saw Will gaining a vast amount of knowledge and skills, including how to cross to the world Hannibal referred to as 'The Realms'.
The splendor and vastness of that world worked in the beginning to distract Will from the fact that he had been alone in the human world for centuries, when he could have come here, where people were aware of him, where they saw him.
Granted there weren't that many around when he was with Hannibal, but despite Will's obvious need for acknowledgement he did not mind that in the least. His empathy still made most others a distraction, sometimes even overwhelmingly so, for Will.

But now at least they would be aware of his presence, while he was swamped with theirs. After so many decades of receiving less regard than even the air from those around him, that mattered.
Even being studiously ignored while walking next to Hannibal's commanding presence was more attention than he had received since waking up in the form he inhabited now. It made him giddy with the implications and possibilities of it all.

Hannibal was a never ending well of knowledge to Will, quenching his thirst and answering his manifold questions patiently, his sharp mind never having any trouble at keeping up with Will's quick changes of subject or jump in thoughts.
He quite enjoyed the mental stimulation Will's presence in his existence provided, and would think of ever knew ways to engage that curiosity of his, taking Will to different parts all over the Realms in his quest for knowledge and new discoveries.

Another thing that came with his proximity to Hannibal was the touching. It started with occasional touches, caused by necessity, or so Will thought. Moments like the first time Will crossed, Hannibal guiding him with a firm hand on his back, or when Will was lost in thoughts during his explorations, and the light pressure of claw tipped fingers through the sleeve covering his arm brought him back to the here and now, to Hannibal.
The thing is, Will hadn't been touched for as long as he could remember, which was a long time indeed, so it did not come as much of a surprise to him when the first touch not his own he felt upon himself had his body clamoring for more, despite the layers of material between his body and Hannibal's hands. The intensity with which he craved those fingers on his skin were quite a different matter though, and one Will decided to keep to himself, for now.
The frequency and length of touch increased over time, but never once did Hannibal's hands wander from the material of Will's clothing onto his skin. Will found that not reassuring at all, truth be told.

Hannibal also took care to introduce Will to those creatures they did meet in their travels, or within the darker confines of Hannibal's forest, which Will appreciated. He enjoyed most of those introductions, like the one of the Lady Bedelia, a witch queen that ruled over the Meadows, which bordered Hannibal's forest in the south. Lady Bedelia was a creature of grace and charm, and in that respect very much like Hannibal. She reminded Will of Hannibal's more human disguise with her pale skin and measured smile. She also seemed rather fond of Hannibal, often directing a knowing smile his way and never being afraid to enter his personal space, even allowing herself the occasional touch by laying her hand on his arm. It all spoke of a familiarity of many years and shared experiences, some perhaps more private than others. Will couldn't help but wonder how close those two really were, and tried to suppress the little spark of irritation growing in his chest.

When they parted Bedelia bestowed Will with one of her knowing smiles, and an invitation to visit her lands and herself whenever he felt the inclination to do so.

These invitations bore their own kind of magic, Hannibal later explained to him. Without them, the only way for Will to enter those lands would be over the borders while in the Realms, or using one of the many established crossing points between the worlds. It needed the invitation of a subject residing within the Realm, and thus bearing the 'Right of Home', to allow another spirit to cross freely. Thus these invitations where seen as a formal sign of trust and offer of friendship.

Between the Meadows and just within the borders of the Dark Forest lay the Swamp. Not the only swamp within the Realms, but apparently the biggest and about as close to a fairy tale cliché as you could get, hence the capital S.
In the Swamp Hannibal confronted Will with yet another surprise he wasn't quite sure how to take- Abigail.
Apparently it was Abigail's description of Will that had allowed Hannibal to not only seek him out, but also approach him in the way he did, waiting for Will to grant his permission.
The air between Will and the Rusalka was heavy with a tension that never went away completely throughout their talk.
Will had not been aware that it had been Abigail's father he had ultimately killed in a bid to save the girl, and he wondered if the air of accusation that shrouded her was linked to that. He didn't regret saving her, even if he still didn't quite knew why he'd done it. Her long brown hair and blue eyes just touched something deep inside his mind, a memory he failed to grasp.

An introduction Will was quite certain he didn't enjoy was the one to the harpy Frederica. An unpleasant creature if ever there was one. And Will had met quite a few of the creatures in the Realms by now. None of which made his skin crawl with their calculated, greedy gaze like the harpy did. Her hunger wasn't even directed at his flesh and bones, which he would have understood, given her nature. Rather it seemed to covet his whole being, as if she'd like nothing better than to split open his skull and extract every single thought and secret that had ever crossed his mind from it, so she could lay them out, one by one, in the open, for everybody to gaze at and dissect. Will had never felt as sullied in his life as he did under her scrutiny.
Their encounter luckily did not last long, the harpy merely having sought out Hannibal to inform him of Jack's still persistent hunt for Will.
When she finally left after having been politely dismissed by Hannibal, Will no longer bothered to suppress the shiver of revulsion crawling over his skin.
“Will?” Hannibal's eyes conveyed his concern, as he stepped closer to the other, putting a steadying hand on Will's shoulder. The frequency and length of the touches between them was ever increasing, becoming common place, the clawed thumb now rubbing soothingly just underneath Will's clavicle attesting to that.
“She creeps me out,” Will admitted, leaning into the touch and putting his forehead onto Hannibal's shoulder.
A deep rumble answered him from the chest underneath, the vibrations tingling along the bones in his skull and making his hair stand up, but in a good way.
He smiled to himself. Making Hannibal laugh was almost worth the displeasure of Frederica's company.
“It's really not that funny,” he chided Hannibal.
“Au contraire my dear Will, I really believe it is!” The hand left his shoulder to smooth its way down his back, coming to a halt in the dip of his spine, the thumb taking up its back and forth motion again, now along Will's vertebrae.
“Of all the creatures you've met, especially the ones residing within the boundaries of this forest, and taking into account that your most frequent companion is named the Nightmare King, none of which ever engendered even the slightest sign of displeasure from you, out of all of those, it is really a harpy that gives you the creeps, as you say?”
Will lifted his head from its resting place on Hannibal's shoulder with reluctance, not bothering to suppress the smile that had snuck onto his own face. He brought his arms up and around Hannibal's neck, leaning his weight into the broad chest and letting his fingers play with the short, dark hair at Hannibal's neck.
The dark red eyes meeting his had gained in intensity, the laughter now gone to leave nothing but a slight up curve of the mouth and an air of cautious expectation behind. Will was done waiting.
“I just don't find you that scary,” he said.
“No? Others might disagree with you there.”
Will's smile widened a little, as he leaned in to whisper against dark lips;”Others don't matter though, do they?” and sealed Hannibal's lips with his, before he could answer.

The kiss was sweeter than it had any right to be, considering the creatures involved. If you would have asked Will what was likely to happen when you mixed ice and cold with shadows and darkness, his answer certainly wouldn't have been anywhere near the gentle caress of Hannibal's mouth on his, exploratory and mindful. The gentleness did not last very long though, gentle nips and soothing licks of the tongue deteriorating into greedy bites quickly, bruised lips starting to wander in search of new territory for hungry teeth to mark and claim for their owners.

When the cool taste of snow and pine and Will that was filling Hannibal's mouth and senses started to turn even richer with the first drops of coppery red, the sound of Hannibal's deep moan in reaction to that brought them somewhat back to the present, and the awareness of their rather open position out in the forest. They held onto to each other, breathing still heavy and arms unwilling to relinquish even just an inch, lest the other flee them entirely.
Will's lips shone red with blood, where Hannibal's sharp teeth had broken the skin. A black thump traced the damaged area gently, smearing the rich color over the pale skin.
Hannibal looked lost in thought, a rare enough occurrence to warrant Will's immediate attention. Before he could get it into his mind to utter any of the many apologies most likely within his head, Will caught his thumb with his lips, sucking on it slightly until he had maneuvered it just so, and bit, while looking into Hannibal's startled eyes. He watched them fill with renewed heat as the dark copper of Hannibal's blood mixed with the taste of his own.
“I would suggest that we move this to a more private area, if we wish to continue,” Hannibal finally commented, watching the spectacle that was Will's lips wrapped cherry red around his thumb, sucking, lending an aroused hoarseness to Hannibal's words that Will rather enjoyed.
Giving a last swipe of the tongue Will removed his mouth from Hannibal's thumb with a wet sound, and pressed his cheek into the warm black hand.
“We wish very much to continue and are amenable to your suggestion,” he replied jestfully. “We also suggest to move quickly before we run out of patience.” he added.
Hannibal's smile turned dark with want, and a hint of danger, then.
“As you wish,” he answered, before transferring his hold from Will's waist and shoulder onto one of his hands, not willing to let go of the other completely, despite the increase in speed that it would have allowed both of them.
Will did not seem to mind at all though, walking contently besides Hannibal back towards the castle, an impish smile never quite leaving his face.

*

“Are you sure about that?” Jack inquired of his guest. The implications of her latest bit of information did not sit well with him at all.
“Quite sure,” Frederica all but purred. “You are more likely to find Will Frost in the Dark Forest than in the human world. From what I could glean he and the Nightmare King seemed rather close,” she continued, enjoying the sour expression that manifested in Jack's face at that pronouncement.
Just because she wasn't overly fastidious about whom she sold her information to didn't mean she did not prefer some beings to others.
The Guardians with all their goodness and well doing were too powerful to not try and keep on their good side, good being a relative term in this case, and the best way of doing that was by bringing Jack and his lot information before it became a rumor, and from there a matter of public knowledge.
That didn't mean she couldn't take pleasure in twisting the knife so readily presented in a fresh wound and watch them squirm with it. Take your pleasures where you find them was a common proverb within the realms, and one by which she, and many others, lived their existence.

Jack meanwhile had taken up his pacing again, most likely wondering how to still spin this situation around, so he could make it work for himself. If Jack were to succeed in capturing Will Frost now, the Nightmare King would be furious, by Frederica's estimation, and sure to retaliate with most severe measures. The fallout from that...Frederica smiled.
“I might be able to provide some information that would help you capture Will Frost, if that is indeed what you still wish to do.”
Jack stopped in his stride and turned back towards the still smiling harpy. “How?” he growled.
“I can tell you where he's crossing. All you would have to do is wait until he does, catch him right as he emerges.”
Jack's look turned considerate. So far they'd been chasing after Frost, going by sightings and the weather, always a step behind, but Frost was too quick for them. This might be step ahead that would actually put them in front.
“And your price?” he inquired.
“Firstly, and most importantly, my name stays completely out of this. Not only would you lose your best informant on all things Dark Forest related, I also rather prefer my place to be at the Nightmare King's table, not on it. And we both know he won't be very pleased once you get a hold of his latest toy.” Jack couldn't quite keep the look of distaste off of his face at the mentions of the fabled banquet table. He knew well enough that the horror stories told to the children of humans as well as their kind were anything but exaggerated.
“Done,” he agreed. “What else?”
Frederica's smile stretched a little wider. “Oh I am sure we will come to an agreement when the time comes. For now, let's just say you would owe me a favor.”
A favor owed by Jack St North was a powerful bargain indeed.
Jack gave her another look of consideration, no doubt weighing the pros and cons of being indebted to a harpy, of all beings. But in the end she was the one that could provide the information he needed most right now, the place and time to capture Will Frost.
“Done,” he finally nodded his head in concession.”This better be working,” he felt the need to add.
Frederica just kept smiling though, slightly drunk on her success, and the power she held in her claws with the simple whisper of a few secrets into receptive ears.

Chapter Text

Finally feeling Hannibal's hands on his skin was a revelation. He hadn't known that simple touch could make you feel this much. Yes, his body and mind had craved this form of closeness since he could remember, but he had not been aware of what exactly it had been that he was missing out on. It was more the idea of it, the resonances of pleasure experienced by the people around him, echoing in that hollow place within himself and making him want what seemed forever out of his reach. He had felt some kind of loss, but it was easy to ignore it as long as he wasn't directly confronted with such displays.

Now Hannibal's hand was spread wide on his chest, claws slowly increasing their pressure as he drew them down, down Will's front, over the pale virgin skin, until the pink welts left behind bloomed with strings of crimson pearls, and Will's cold body started to feel like it was melting from the inside out.
Hannibal's attention was focused on the beads of color contrasting with the white skin underneath his fingers, the way the light reflected in them as they rose and fell with every breath from the solid body underneath his hand, mesmerizing in their beauty, begging him to collect each and every one on the tip of his tongue.
He lowered his head, nosing along Will's abdomen and taking care to keep his antlers away from fragile skin, before allowing himself to partake.
Will's moans accompanied the most exquisite taste of his body, his hands finding their way into Hannibal's hair, fingers flexing against his scalp in the same rhythm that Hannibal's tongue used to play Will's body.

At the gentle teasing of Will's fingertips where antlers meet hair and skin, Hannibal had to close his eyes for a moment and fortify himself with a deep breath. It had been a long time since a simple touch brought forth such a wealth of sensation and pure need within him.
“If you entertain ideas of grabbing, I would suggest you reconsider.” He opened his eyes to look up at Will's face, smiling even though he very much meant the implied threat.
The mischievous sparkle never leaves Will's eyes completely, but there's a certain something mingled in with it now, a softness of the kind Hannibal can't quite recall, despite the faint feeling of familiarity it stirred within him.
“Now, would I ever,” Will retorts, breaking the intensity of that shared moment.
Instead of a verbal answer Hannibal gives a tuck at the waistband of Will's trousers, indicating for Will to lift his hips so he can remove the offending garment.
“Turn around,” Hannibal instructs, “on your hands and knees, if you please.”
“So polite. Who'd have thought a creature such as you would be such a polite- ahh!” Will's voice breaks off, words forgotten with the first swift lick between his spread cheeks and over his hole.
It only took a moment for witty banter to be replaced with continuous moans and rasps of pleasure, under the skilled administration of Hannibal's tongue.
Hannibal set upon Will's hole like a starving man upon a feast, chasing out the crisp cool musk that was so uniquely Will between the tiny folds of skin with the tip of his tongue, alternately circling the twitching muscle and flattening his tongue to lap over it, turning the flushed skin slick and shiny with spit.
“You taste absolutely divine,” Hannibal's breathes against Will's wet skin. Before Will can think of a suitable come back he feels the prick of claws almost piercing his skin as Hannibal spreads him wider and proceeds to drive that greedy tongue with single minded focus into Will's loosened hole.

There might have been shouts, Will isn't quite sure. It was hard to hear anything over the rush in his ears. When his awareness extends to more than the hot tongue moving inside of him, doing its best to lick at his very core, he finds his mouth stuffed with a plush pillow, his face and chest resting on the sheets after his arms have given out on him, all the strength left in his body now diverted to press his restless hips backwards and fuck himself on Hannibal's tongue.
He can feel the tiny pricks now where claws must have pierced his skin, warmth dripping down the back of his thighs in a slow ticklish slide.
He whimpers shamelessly at the loss when Hannibal lifts his head behind him, leaving his position to finally discard the rest of his garments.

When he joins Will on the bed once more, he holds a small vial.
“Give me your hand.” He takes a hold of the right Will reaches out to him, not letting Will up from his position, and proceeds to suck three of Will's fingers into his mouth, while tipping the contents of the vial over his lower back. A rivulet of cool fluid quickly finds its way between Will's cheeks from there.
“What...?”
“We have to prepare you, my dear Will. Otherwise I fear this activity would turn singularly unpleasant for you, and we do not want that to happen,” Hannibal smiles down at him, before pressing a kiss to Will's fingers and then guiding them along Will's now oil slick crack to his entrance, where Hannibal's other hand had been busy rubbing the lubricant into the skin to help guaranty both of them satisfaction.
“I am afraid you will have to do the honors yourself, that is unless you wish to reconsider your aversion to my other form?” The drag of Hannibal's claws up the left side of Will's ass makes his meaning clear.
Will considers it.
“No. I prefer you like this," he replies, and then he experimentally pushes a finger into his entrance. A sigh escapes him at the feeling of being breached again, chasing away that unbearable emptiness. His eyes are heavy lidded, threatening to slip shut once more, held open by the intensity of Hannibal's gaze.
“No, I think I rather prefer if you fuck me just like this,” he smiles, half pressed into the pillow, his eyes finally slipping close as he pushes the next finger into himself. He's moaning his pleasure at the slight stretch and increased fullness into the pillows.
The sight of him so wanton, getting himself ready for Hannibal with such obvious enjoyment and hedonistic pleasure in the act itself, has Hannibal swallow, hands reaching out and spreading the round muscles to witness every movement of pale fingers where they slide deep into Will.
And what a sight it is. The skin underneath his hands is cool to the touch, but Hannibal has tasted the heat of Will's core, knows how different Will feels inside and his cock is twitching impatiently, eager to sink itself into that welcoming heat and surround itself with Will.
“Spread your fingers,” he instructs, taking care to keep any hint of impatience out of his voice as he whispers his instructions just loud enough that Will will hear.
“Spread them out and massage the walls of your channel with the lubricant. It will make things easier.” He bends lower to place a calming kiss to the wounds on the right, where his claws broke the pale skin, then lets his eyes slip shut for a moment and begins to worry at the incisions with sharp teeth, until they release the sweet iron hot flavor of Will once more. He catches it with his tongue; drinks it down to hold Will inside of himself, to make him part of his own darkness whichever way he can.
With a final kiss to the side he leaves off the freshly bleeding wounds and diverts his attention to where Will's fingers diligently follow his instructions, giving enticing little glimpses to Will's insides as they spread wide while moving back and forth within him.
A light push has Will spread his legs wider, the feeling of hot breath fanning over where his fingers are at work has him arching his back in a sinuous curve that leaves his ass at he perfect angle for Hannibal to add his tongue back into the mix, making both of them moan with need.

But the impatience is getting to both of them now, all that teasing and cautiousness of previous weeks taking its toll as Will removes his fingers to twist them back into the hopelessly wrinkled sheets, offering himself to Hannibal.
“Please!” he breathes, “I need...need to-” and Hannibal is on him, over him, rubbing his hard cock along the oil drenched crack to slick himself up, his arms wound tightly around Will's torso, before he finally changes the angle and breaches Will in one smooth thrust.
They're done with being patient.
Hannibal bares his teeth in a silent snarl, pressed against Will's shoulder. Any semblance of gentleness gone now as he fucks into Will with sharp, deep thrusts, fucks the breath right out of him in startled moans and gasps.
The coolness of Will's skin makes the contrast of his inner heat all the more startling, overwhelming Hannibal with the need to claim that secret place for himself, own it, possessively staking his claim with every slap of skin on skin and it's not enough, not until his teeth sink deep into the juncture of shoulder and neck, claws opening new trenches along Will's chest where Hannibal holds him tight while he grinds into him, making Will shouts out as his senses are finally overwhelmed.
Will clamps down tight on Hannibal's cock in climax, contracting around his erection while Hannibal works himself into Will two, three times more, before he finally spills his seed, marking Will inside and out.

They collapse on the sheets tangled in each other, Hannibal having just enough presence of mind to catch himself with one hand, before the pressure of his weight can impale Will's limp figure further onto the claws still embedded in his chest.
He can feel the slight itch of drying blood next to his mouth, the source of it still bleeding sluggishly under his gaze.
The urgency having left them he bends his head once more, this time to bestow a remorseful caress unto the still bleeding wound.
“I may have been a bit more zealous in my affections than was called for,” he admits, lifting his gaze from the fresh wound to look for Will's reaction.
What he finds are closed eyes and a blissful smile, half covered by a wild disarray of bright curls, but no sign of regrets that he could recognize.

“Well, that certainly explains why everyone makes such a fuss about this.”
“And you did not, before this?” Hannibal countered, gazing at Will indulgently.
“It's not like I could have tried, is it? What with the whole no spirits talking to me and humans not seeing me thing and all,” Will returned.
“What about before? Surely you've met some people more appreciative of your person in your first life?” Hannibal countered.
If he expected an elaborate speech about the ludicrousness of that idea, he was disappointed. Instead Will's gaze met his with a frown, all previous levity having fled.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, confusion clear in his voice.
“Your first life, Will. Your human life, before you where chosen as one of us. Do you not recall it?”
But Will's confusion and utter lack of knowledge on the subject appeared to be as complete as they were sincere.
“I had a human life? A...a family? Parents? A life before all of this?” His words became louder as his speech became more agitated.
“You mean there was a reason I became this? Someone picked me, specifically, with this reason in mind, and created me the way I am now?” he exclaimed, back on his knees now, grabbing onto Hannibal's arms and holding on, finding reassurance in the solidness of his presence.
“Yes, Will, we have been human, once. To my knowledge every spirit of our kind has been. Usually they remember it.” He leaned his head closer, keeping his voice calm, measured. “Do you not remember anything from before? Anything at all?” Hannibal inquired, as gently as he could, sensing how very agitated this had left Will.
“Nothing,” Will replied.
“I remember nothing at all. Just waking up in the lake, and the Moon telling me my name. And that was the only thing he ever said to me.” He loosened his hold then, his arms dropping, hands sliding along and off Hannibal's skin as Will slowly turned away from him, deflating and curling in upon himself, lost in thought. 

Hannibal while that would not take his eye off Will. He cataloged every little movement, every unguarded emotion that flitted behind the now absent eyes. He took in all of Will, his confusion, loss, anger, frustration, and decided he would find those memories. He would find those reasons Will craved. If he would give them to Will or not, well, that was entirely dependent on what they turned out to be. But he would know Will Frost, in any and every way there was. He would know why this singular spirit moved him like no other had been able to thus far. He had to.

Gently he put a hand on the naked shoulder in front of him. Slowly, so very slowly, and carefully, he pulled Will back towards himself. Manipulated the deceptively pliant body until it was curled up against his chest, white hair curled up under Hannibal's chin, his arms surrounding Will and holding, not quite certain himself if he was trying to support or entrap any more.