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hannigramfanfic · 5 years

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Hannibal Fanstory: “The Hunter and Child of the Lupin” Or “Kiss of a Lupin” or “Prince of Wolves - Vilku kunigaikstis

PROLOGUE

There is a Tale told by old Storytellers when fires are lit, and everyone is settled for the night about a Hunter from a distant land and a feral child of the Lupin he met one heavy winter in the lands of the North – where the Spirit of the that Forest, the Ravenstag dwells – when given a task by the vile King Mason Verger to find the child and kill it, while bringing him the head of the creature from Ancient times.

It is said Mason came into power by overthrowing the previous King – Jack Crawford – and his Queen – Bella or Phyliss – and it is unknown what happened to those kind people, because you dear Travellers who come to sit by my fire to hear this Tale have yet to hear how it all began.

Our Tale first begins in the land of Wolf-trap, Virginia where due to unforeseen consequences a pregnant woman bearing a child within her womb leaves behind a place where she was born and raised as behind her in the far distance a great fire burns the woodland causing animals living in it to run alongside her horse as the flames black out the skies.

Choking out a multitude of stars that shine like path and leaving yet only one shining in the sky – a bright single star that would change the child’s life within her womb as the legacy of Wolftrap dissolved in ash and wind.

—————————

12 MONTHS LATER

Baltimore, Maryland – the former Kingdom of the Missing King Crawford

Despair.

Pestilence.

Starvation.

Depressed souls who head’s hang with the weight of oppression as Hannibal Lecter – Hunter, member of the Hunter’s Guild – and unknown to many in who he was in this country keeps the hood of his long cloak up as he walks through the muddy streets with his horse – Cersai – of Baltimore, Maryland remembering when it had been under King Crawford’s gentle rule.

The street had been a vibrant hive of activity: festivals, market stalls bursting with the hustle and bustle of market stallers shouting their wares to people in the streets, while children ran about with windmills and kites.

That was gone: in place now due to Mason taking reign the color and vibrancy had been drained to monochrome grey and inky black, while faces have become hardened like stone; children are weak and starving beg for scraps at what has now become Mason’s palace from the kitchens only to never get enough and adults have become suspicious of any stranger no matter where they came from.

Neighbor becomes pitted against neighbor, not trusting them at all for any help at all even when the Plague sickness comes and affects either both or one of them as Hannibal passes some Plague doctors standing near a Condemned house talking in whispers – like snakes slithering across each-other to keep warm – wearing the long white beaks like that of a crow or raven beak then turn their beaked gaze towards him.

Watching him walking up to King Verger’s castle, a grotesque building hewn from blood-red rock and spiked turrets where the remnants of people who displeased Mason Verger hang from indicating to all below if they disobeyed this was what would happen. Guards in armour patrolled the battlements.

Hearing the bellowing noise of large bull oxen’s and rumbling of a carriage makes him step out of the way with Cersai seeing, in fact, it is Slave Carriage bearing within poor, frightened souls bound in chains of iron and steel. Their heads hung down in dejection, while rags of cloth barely cover their modesty as it large wheels splash up the foul mud of that for centuries during Mason’s reign has had all manner of traffic go through it.

What makes his Inner Predator within Hannibal want to get rid of Mason if he weren’t controlled by the Hunter’s Code and Contract is the fact the prisoners that been in the Slave Carriage as it heads within the castle – were children. Some of them younger like his darling sister Mischa who been murdered in his homeland when he been only a child of 17 years of age by a rogue general who had overthrown his father – Lord Dvaras – had heard rumours about Mason having certain particular tastes and that was he liked young children – female or male even.

The three Plague Doctors, who have followed him he can sense are still watching him wondering why a foreign stranger has come to such a desolate bleak place where even the strange Plague, Hannibal had seen affecting people in other places he had travelled through and the grief it had brought countless families.

“Mister? Mister? Please any…. spare coins to spare?”

A small voice says, drawing him out of the haze he in and looking down sees it a group of orphaned urchins – their cheeks hollowed in by hunger; eyes bloodshot and bags under them; hair unkempt and unwashed as patchwork rags cover their modesty – and shakes his head at them, having his money pouch already stolen in another town he had passed through. Slapping down greedy hands when they reach for his crossbow on his back, plus dagger and sword hidden by his long cloak.

“Cease that. There not for children to play with. Understand me?” He chides them, making them resist what they are doing, and nod meekly followed by still staying close to him when suddenly a snide leering almost voice shouts at them “BEGONE YOU LITTLE VARMINTS!!! GET!! GO ON!!!” revealing to Hannibal’s displeasure another lacky of Mason’s – Garrett Jacob Hobbs, Captain of the Guards and downright leech-of-a-man – who kicks one the urchins out the way.

They met before, when the man had tried to join the Hunter’s Guild and now sneers at him even when Hannibal reaches into his saddle bag to pull out the Hunter’s Code and Contract – which all Hunter’s sweared to with a Blood oath – then spits heavily, managing to aim it close to Hannibal who just keeps a calm composure.

He couldn’t let the Inner Predator in him loose just yet.

It wasn’t the right……time for it.

————————————–

Now in the Household of the Verger Royal Family: there is Mason Verger, a vile man with no good soul in him causing more torment and ruining people lives than in actually helping them; there is his sister Lady Margot – a young woman of 35 years of age, who is also sadly one of those people that is tormented by her brother behind locked doors and wishes she could be free of him; while there is her Lady-in-waiting Alana Bloom – a simple country girl with strong heart and fierce loyalty to her mistress.

The servants are: Peter Bernadone – a stable-lad who a cares for the horses for King Mason, though is strongly controlled by a sadistic Lord Clark Ingram; Francis Dolerhyde, the Blacksmith who fashions all the weapons and armour and stays with his adopted little blind girl of seven years of age Reba McClane – who’s father and mother are unknown as she was abandoned at early age and find by Francis as a baby among some bed of heather in the once fertile forests around Baltimore, Maryland; the scholar/ jesters of the Court are Brian Zeller, Beverly Katz and Jimmy Price who Mason uses when he puts on big parties to celebrate certain events and finally Lady Bedelia Du Maurier – rumoured to run the Brothel houses in the seediest parts of Baltimore, Maryland and is known as the Verger’s Tax Collector.

Hmm, yes?

Oh, you want to hear of what lies beyond this place.

Well that is…. the Northern land as far as the crow can fly to it or a horse can travel to it. Not that I’ve tried to travel there myself.

Tall mountain-scapes of tall-peaked mountains dusted with coatings of fine, crisp snow and swathes of large coniferous and deciduous trees that spread outwards to reach to them and waterfalls made from glaciers tumble downwards to form meandering rivers that spread across the strange land like arteries of a giant’s arm and gentle, bubbling streams or of becoming just deep pools of gleaming water that waterfalls just endlessly pour into them.

Autumn there brings a multi-hue of soft oranges, yellows, reds and lilacs and wildlife is ever abundant from all creatures great and small, while Ancient Text tells of how large Beast Gods roamed the forest and the Spirit of the Forest – the Ravenstag – watched over all.

It is said the creature possesses the body of a stag, a coat of lustrous Raven’s feathers and a thicket of antler’s that are larger a normal stag’s antlers.

But that is only myth told from the Ancient Text as no-one has ever seen this creature described and yet, it is what Mason fears for some reason.

You ask me why?

It is believed because of Prophesy told to him by a mysterious cloaked figure wearing robes of sea bluish-green and holding a stuff, bearing the carving of Raven that is why. And hear is thus:

Neither Human or even a man

When the Crescent moon doth shine and become full

Turning crimson like spilled blood in the inky, black sky

Come will something that will tear and ravage you asunder

It will break your stone you surround yourself with

Bellow out it’s war cry like the horn of a Carnyx

And pierce you to the very throne you defiled

Beware the golden eyes in the night.

Now that I have started off this Tale, let’s us travel to another place – the Northern Land where we will shall find out what happened to the young man from the Wolftrap Legacy that many had believed had faded into the histories of time to be forgotten for eternity.

PART 1

A multitude of stars shines brightly in the night-sky, while under the canopy of tall coniferous trees bearing on their fir branches white, undisturbed snow and on a perch of a half-destroyed old tree – that had been hit by lightning – sweeps off into the night on silent wings.

A ghostly white shadow among the inky blackness, while slowly golden eyes appear from the gloom as they step slowly into the moonlight now streaming through the canopy above – a pack of wolves, a family.

There is a difference – on the back of one of the Mother Alpha Wolf – last of the remaining Ancient Beasts of the Wolf Clan – is a young man, gripping her fur mixed with silvery highlights.

While in front, keeping an eye out for dangers are his wolf-brother’s – three of them – and his Wolf-sister, who walks close by. Their names in Ancient are stated thus: Murasaki Kushina – the Alpha Mother, remaining Ancient Beast of the Wolf Clan; daughter Murasaki Chiyoh; and the three sons Murasaki Ashisaki, Keito and Hiharo.

They are Will’s family, after his mother Lady Cassia - Othelia who had given birth to him in this forest one heavy winter night soon afterwards weakened by hunger and trying to survive while grieving the loss of her husband – Lord Orilivano – who unknown to her at the time of when he been a small child had been bitten by rogue Wolf – so passing on the curse onto his only son – Will.

Will knows nothing of his heritage or even where he comes from. He believes his real mother is Murasaki Kushina and knows nothing of what the birthmark on his shoulder means.

“O’kaasan, where are we going?” He asks her in the language of the Wolves – that she had taught him, and she answers in her deep soft voice. “It’s a surprise, my dear little one.”

Will smiles at that. Being with his Wolf-mother, brothers and sisters he knows nothing of the Human beyond the forest he was born in and has not seen another human ever in his life.

His real mother unbeknownst to him is buried in wooden glade, where only the Spirit of the Forest – The Ravenstag – knows where. He remembers one autumn with the leaves spiralling and dancing down onto the forest floor he seen the beautiful creature with a lustrous coat of raven’s feathers ruffling gently in the breeze as it grazed with some deer then it was gone.

Chiyoh, who had gone off soon comes up beside and hands him a branch bearing some succulent edible berries from a winter food storage hole that been made last winter and taking it with one hand, scratches her behind her ear to thank her for it.

Keito – the second youngest of Murasaki Kushina’s Wolf cubs about the same age as Will – comes up, nipping her ear playfully soon making them both bound forwards in front of the others, making Will laugh happily at the sight in front of him.

If only he knew at the time in the Kingdom of Mason Verger, a Hunter would soon be arriving in the forest he lived in and would change his life forever.

The mountain-passes that separate the Kingdom of Mason Verger from the Northern Forest, where the Ravenstag is to dwell is a Border pass patrolled by four guards – Tobias Budge, Matthew Brown, Abel Gideon and the reluctant Frederick Chilton – who control who goes through to the other side.

Coming up the carved path in the mountainside, while heavy rain falls down causing some parts of the cliff-face to become waterfalls of murky water that tumble down into the misty abyss below, he sees a Raven flying overhead – it’s beady gaze looking down at him – and continuing head up the path, soon sees a groove hollowed by years of intense weathering going over it until it finally hollowed out a pass.

During King Crawford’s reign with his kind permission people could come and go often escorted by himself and the Queen to show the beautiful land beyond the pass then it all changed when King Mason Verger took control and changed the rule so that only a handle of people he chose could enter the pass if they were acceptable and reliable in the tasks he gave them.

Slipping off the horse, he heads to stone-carved hut shaped like large dome to within, where Frederick Chilton – one of the four Border Pass Guards who rather be somewhere else – lifts his head up from making notes to see who has come in then takes the Sealed Pass signed by King Mason from Hannibal.

Hannibal lowering his hood of his long cloak, heads back over to his horse to check she is alright at the sametime the other three Border Pass guards appear, coming into the large stone-carved dome wearing hides of animals to disguise their scent from when they go through the pass and hunt in the land beyond it.

“Chilton, who is this Silver-fox of a foreigner?” One of them – Abel Gideon – a rude, boorish brute of man wishing like Chilton to be somewhere else – like for example the whorehouses of sin, greed and lust rumoured to be run by Lady Bedelia Du Maurier.

“A Hunter, dear Gideon. He has been given a Border Pass by King Verger to enter that accursed land.” Another man speaks – Tobias Budge, once a former member of the Hunter’s Guild until leaving for unknown reasons – who know considered Hunters like Hannibal to be just worthless scum in it for the money they would get from the job.

Hannibal notices the third Border Pass guard is a young man, with his hands crossed over his chest while leaning nonchantly against the stone-carved dome wall with one leg up on it watching him with certain look. He would have to keep an eye out on this one. Something about the gaze indicated a hidden personality the other three men didn’t know about and was something Hannibal had experience with

Having a hidden personality of his own.

It is in the middle of the night, the rain has ceased outside until leaving only pools of water on the ground in some places as Hannibal silently leaves behind the four sleeping Border Pass Guards and heads quietly to the Pass, where for the moment he soon swears he sees ghostly figure of a child – looking almost like his darling sister Mischa – then getting up into the saddle of his horse, indicates with soft click of his tongue for it to start going through the pass.

It is eerily quiet, with the wind-weathered pass looking like it is leaning in towards any travellers who come into the Pass then finally he reaches the other side to come upon a sight that has been untouched ever since Mason’s reign: large swathes of coniferous and deciduous trees spreading outwards towards towering mountains that jut out like sharp ragged teeth in the clouds of mist that surround them.

A strange sense of calm descends on Hannibal. Never has he seen such a pristine, beautiful place where Humans who once remember King Crawford’s gentle rule now fear to tread in case they incur the wrath of the now King Mason.

Slowly he begins to descend the carved path leading to the very bottom of the valley where the Ancient Beasts were still rumoured to roam and the Spirit of the Forest – the Ravenstag – was said to dwell.

“O’kaasan, what’s wrong?” Will asks, when Murasaki Kushina comes to halt at the large river – Kahaku – where glacial boulders covered in moss, lichen and tiny moths lay within the refreshing water that comes from the mountains in the far distance.

“Man!!!? We must leave!!!?” Come my children.” She replies to him, while Will finds himself gripping her fur more tightly and looks around at the trees that cover both sides of the large flowing river that goes through the forest and out towards the ocean.

Listening attentively, Will uses his special skill he had to block out all other noises and slips his eyes close to immerse himself fully. He soon hears a steady heartbeat coming from the “Man” as the strange creature his O’kaasan had called the strange creature.

He wondered:

Why had they come here to where he lived?

What purpose had brought them here?

Warning growls - bring him out of those internal questions - coming from his other siblings, making him shoot his eyes open seeing watching through some gaps of broken trees that have fallen into the large river at some point.

Until it managed to build a dam of sorts. The “Man” who soon moves from his watching point, gets up onto the broken branches and clambering over them begins to wade through the water towards them until stopping in the middle of the large river.

“Speak Human. You have come into our Forest with some purpose. Why?” Will hears his O’kaasan growling with her fangs bared in warning, while he slips off her back and keeps close to her.

Noticing how the strange “Man’s” maroon eyes stare at him – like they could stare deeply into his soul – and before he even is thinking he is front of them, while they stay still as he starts to pad around them.

Inhaling every mixture of scent coming from the strange “Man” - all unrecognisable and unidentifiable – then bringing his hands up to their shoulders, pushes the strange creature to kneel on both knees so their eye-level.

Hannibal now kneeling on both his knees in the water of the large river, stays still when the young man – no doubt in his mind the remaining heir of the Wolftrap Legacy – leans close to his cheek inhaling deeply with curiosity at what is he to them.

He knows if he makes a wrong move, four wolves and a one of them an Ancient Beast described in Ancient Texts saying to have existed in this forest, could easily tear him to a bloodied mess.

Keeping his hands still by resting them on his lap, Hannibal doesn’t even flinch when a moist, warm tongue licks his ear to test his reaction and moves to the other – almost like the young man is starting to scent-mark him – then pulls back slightly giving him a look that means he must reciprocate.

Leaning close to the young man’s ear, he brings out his tongue to lick softly – wishing deep also he could take hold of the young man, but he doesn’t – and when finishes scent-marking the other in the way he been indicated then goes back to staying still to feel his cheeks grabbed hold of.

This forces him to tilt his head backwards, where soon sharp teeth or fangs – he can’t tell just yet – bite into his skin – not tearing but marking – drawing some blood as the action of it makes him gasp breathlessly.

Feeling his eyes flutter close, his hands come nearly up to take hold of the young man when a twig snapping underfoot breaks the gentle peace and calm and lowering his head after feeling he is suddenly his now alone sees the young man and the Wolves have left.

Another presence though makes him turn his face to look down the large river, seeing a sight he would never forget even until his and the young man’s tale had faded into history.

A lustrous coat made of Raven’s feathers, gleaming in the soft moonlight from above and antlers that seem to Hannibal’s mind extend to the very heavens then it tilts it’s head backwards bellowing heavily. It’s breath rising like fine mist into the cold, night air.

PART 2

After finding a large hollow of a giant tree that has managed over years of growing in cliff-face until it’s large roots within have hollowed out some form of cave, Hannibal now sits up against one of large roots, twisted slightly as the tree which had been growing searched for water and nutrients.

On the cave wall are Ancient Markings of Forebearers who once in Ancient Times had lived in the forest with harmony with the Ancient Beasts illuminated by the makeshift fire he has made, while on makeshift some meat – rabbit – is being slowly roasted on a makeshift spit made from twigs.

He is calmly sketching with some charcoal a drawing of the young man with the wolves he had met – paying attention to the soft details of the youthful face and soft kissable lips – into an old drawing paper sketchpad and smiles softly when he senses a presence entering the cave.

Hannibal knows who it is and finishing off the final touches, gently closes the sketchpad to place it to one side then reaching forwards turns the makeshift spit so the meat is thoroughly cooked hearing the young man pad up to him.

Lowering his hands to his lap, after doing that task he turns slightly to face the young man with sea bluish-green eyes – deep pools of that colour that remind him of clear pools of water with sunlight filtering down from canopy of trees to shine down on them – curious and intrigued in what will happen next.

The young man still on his hands and knees, while wearing a lace white tunic of sorts and black breeches – which must have been stolen to make what he wears now – reaches for one of Hannibal’s hands. Taking hold of it, while he forgets how to breathe at the feel of tempting kissable lips brush against his wrist’s pulse followed by hint of fangs.

“Something wrong, my Love?” He asks, before he can correct himself because they’re not Lovers and yet, he couldn’t deny the attraction he was starting to develop for this feral Wolf-Child with curly-brown locks and something else within him he just couldn’t explain what.

“No, just the way you look at me.” The young man replies to him, lifting his head with his eyes closed at first, while stilling holding Hannibal’s wrist as Hannibal finds himself stroking the young man’s delicate cheekbone with feather light touches.

This makes the young man flutter his eyes open, revealing those beautiful eyes when he goes to move his hand away to sort the makeshift spit, so the meat doesn’t burn scorching him with such heat from that look, Hannibal can feel himself slowly becoming aroused then composes himself only just, asks the question.

“How do I look to you?” making the young man smile at him, replying with “As if you were deciding whether or not to eat me. Not that I’m adverse to the idea.” then goes back to nuzzling Hannibal’s wrist as Hannibal starts to feel conflicted by what has been said to him.

It was true, he had a darker side to after tortured in his own homeland by the rogue General – Vladimir Grutas – who overthrown his father and in front of his very young eyes at 17 years of age had taken his little baby sister away, while Gruta’s men took great relish and pleasure in violating his body again and again until he been forced to accept he would starve if he did not eat the food they gave him.

Then to his ultimate horror happened to him, they brought him food and due to his weakened state Hannibal had eaten it then afterwards had discovered the food had been his own sister – slaughtered for meat.

Anger had risen in him, while he soon killed the men who had murdered his sister and as the years went by when he travelled to the land King Mason owned after overthrowing King Crawford in the shadows of alleyways and underground caverns he was given another name “The Chesapeake Ripper” - based on the mythological monster the Wendigo from Ancient Texts who ate the flesh of man.

Coming out of the harsh, cold memory he locks it away in the oubliettes of his Mind Palace and slips his hand away to check the meat on the makeshift spit – finding it is ready to eat – then taking it off the holder, rips some of the meat off and holds it out to the young man.

Sea bluish-green eyes flick to the meat and to him than back to the meat, while Hannibal sighs softly and states. “It’s not poisoned. See.” tearing the meat piece in two then eating it to show to the young man it is only rabbit meat with some wild rosemary he found growing near the cave sprinkled on top.

The young man leans upwards though taking the other half of the meat from his fingers and placing it in his mouth soon presses his lips against Hannibal’s causing him to stiffen slightly then fully relaxing, opens his mouth as the meat is soon shared between them through their mouth’s.

He finds himself starting to breathe heavily through both his nostrils, changing position each time when a warm, moist tongue laps against his and starts to entwine as they keep on eating the rabbit meat between themselves then before he is even thinking of what he is doing, Hannibal has soon pinned the feral Wolf-child to the cave floor on his blanket – he had laid out from his traveling kit - and yet, keeps his hands either side of the young man’s head.

Both are breathing heavily, while he can feel soft hands start to unlace his clothes and pulls back heavily only to soon arch slightly with a breathless hitched gasp when feels the young man leans up to bite one of his nipples through the fabric of his crème-white tunic at the sametime twisting the other nipple, so it rises and peaks under those ministrations.

His hands begin to scar into the cave floor slightly as he un-arches his back and leans over the young man still gasping breathlessly as between his thighs in the confines of breeches, Hannibal can feel the tightening pressure indicating he is slowly becoming aroused and needs to release it one way or another then moves his head back down to kiss the young man again, needing to distract himself from it.

A hand clawing down his shoulder – sharp and lethal feeling to his skin – causes him to groan heavily in machoistic pleasure as it draws some blood in the process, while a sly soft hand soon slips between his thighs to cup him through his breeches heavily and starts to unlace him teasingly slow it makes move his lips away to pant heavily in the young man’s ear.

“If…. you don’t hurry. I won’t last much longer.”

“Don’t worry….I plan to extend this for very long indeed, Hunter.”

“Not….haaa….You wee minx!!!?….not Hunter, but Hannibal.”

“Hannibal….….hmm…then evidently I should tell you mine.”

“Yes…. ahhh!!…Oh, there, you wee minx!!!”

“Will, my name is Will.”

Hannibal wonders how long he can last, while Will now slips downwards, and he find himself flinging his head backwards crying out heavily when he finds himself swallowed down into moist, hot mouth then slipping his hands downwards grips the young man’s head to hold it closer to his groin, watching the sleek curly brown head start to bob back and forth between his thighs.

His mouth agape, he finds himself fisting his hands into the blanket for support as slick, slurp noises and breathless moans, gasps, pants and whimpers fill the cave then he tenses heavily, heart pounding heavily against ribcage feeling himself cup the young man’s cheek to stroke it as the sinful moist, hot mouth swallows down his release.

Soon Hannibal falls backwards to land slightly on the tree root and his travelling pack then whimpers from overstimulation when he is forced to experience another orgasm, while the young man has managed to slip his clothes off fully leaving him only in his crème-white tunic and lace breeches wide open to fully expose him.

“Enough…. Will…Enough!!!……I…want you!!” He gasps out, chest heaving heavily with laboured gasps making the young man raise his head, some remnants of Hannibal’s seed still on his lips and crawls up to him to look at him.

“You want….me?”

“Is that so much to ask of you?”

“No…..I want you as well, Hannibal. I want you…..as my….Mate.”

TO BE CONTINUED

For @vintagefloof, @amatesura, @avidreadr2004, @crazystaglady, @hannigramfanfics and all the rest of the Fannibals out there. Here is the fic I have been working on… finally arrived. Enjoy.

#hannigram fanfic #submission #fanfic #hannigram

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innermuse24 · 5 years

Text

Hannibal Fanstory: “Prince of Wolves - Vilku kunigaikstis”

PROLOGUE

---------------------------

12 MONTHS LATER

Baltimore, Maryland – the former Kingdom of the Missing King Crawford

Despair.

Pestilence.

Starvation.

The street had been vibrant hive of activity: festivals, market stalls bursting with the hustle and bustle of market stallers shouting their wares to people in the streets, while children ran about with windmills and kites.

That was gone: in place now due to Mason taking reign the colour and vibrancy had been drained to monochrome grey and inky black, while faces have become hardened like stone; children are weak and starving beg for scraps at what has now become Mason’s palace from the kitchens only to never get enough and adults have become suspicious of any stranger no matter where they came from.

Neighbour becomes pitted against neighbour, not trusting them at all for any help at all even when the Plague sickness comes and affects either both or one of them as Hannibal passes some Plague doctors standing near a Condemned house talking in whispers – like snakes slithering across each-other to keep warm – wearing the long white beaks like that of a crow or raven beak then turn their beaked gaze towards him.

Hearing the bellowing noise of large bull oxen’s and rumbling of a carriage makes him step out of the way with Cersai seeing in fact it is Slave Carriage bearing within poor, frightened souls bound in chains of iron and steel. Their heads hung down in dejection, while rags of cloth barely cover their modesty as it large wheels splash up the foul mud of that for centuries during Mason’s reign has had all manner of traffic go through it.

“Mister? Mister? Please any…. spare coins to spare?”

He couldn’t let the Inner Predator in him loose just yet.

It wasn’t the right……time for it.

--------------------------------------

Hmm, yes?

Oh, you want to hear of what lies beyond this place.

Well that is…. the Northern land as far as the crow can fly to it or a horse can travel to it. Not that I’ve tried to travel there myself.

It is said the creature possesses the body of a stag, a coat of lustrous Raven’s feathers and a thicket of antler’s that are larger a normal stag’s antlers.

But that is only myth told from the Ancient Text as no-one has ever seen this creature described and yet, it is what Mason fears for some reason.

You ask me why?

It is believed because of Prophesy told to him by a mysterious cloaked figure wearing robes of sea bluish-green and holding a stuff, bearing the carving of Raven that is why. And hear is thus:

Neither Human or even a man

When the Crescent moon doth shine and become full

Turning crimson like spilled blood in the inky, black sky

Come will something that will tear and ravage you asunder

It will break your stone you surround yourself with

Bellow out it’s war cry like the horn of a Carnyx

And pierce you to the very throne you defiled

Beware the golden eyes in the night.

PART 1

There is a difference – on the back of one of the Mother Alpha Wolf – last of the remaining Ancient Beasts of the Wolf Clan – is a young man, gripping her fur mixed with silvery highlights.

Will knows nothing of his heritage or even where he comes from. He believes his real mother is Murasaki Kushina and knows nothing of what the birthmark on his shoulder means.

“O’kaasan, where are we going?” He asks her in the language of the Wolves – that she had taught him, and she answers in her deep soft voice. “It’s a surprise, my dear little one.”

Will smiles at that. Being with his Wolf-mother, brothers and sisters he knows nothing of the Human beyond the forest he was born in and has not seen another human ever in his life.

If only he knew at the time in the Kingdom of Mason Verger, a Hunter would soon be arriving in the forest he lived in and would change his life forever.

Having a hidden personality of his own.

He wondered:

Why had they come here to where he lived?

What purpose had brought them here?

“Speak Human. You have come into our Forest with some purpose. Why?” Will hears his O’kaasan growling with her fangs bared in warning, while he slips off her back and keeps close to her.

He knows if he makes a wrong move, four wolves and a one of them an Ancient Beast described in Ancient Texts saying to have existed in this forest, could easily tear him to a bloodied mess.

Another presence though makes him turn his face to look down the large river, seeing a sight he would never forget even until his and the young man’s tale had faded into history.

PART 2

“If…. you don’t hurry. I won’t last much longer.”

“Don’t worry….I plan to extend this for very long indeed, Hunter.”

“Not….haaa….You wee minx!!!?....not Hunter, but Hannibal.”

“Hannibal….….hmm…then evidently I should tell you mine.”

“Yes…. ahhh!!...Oh, there, you wee minx!!!”

“Will, my name is Will.”

“Enough…. Will…Enough!!!......I…want you!!” He gasps out, chest heaving heavily with laboured gasps making the young man raise his head, some remnants of Hannibal’s seed still on his lips and crawls up to him to look at him.

“You want….me?”

“Is that so much to ask of you?”

“No…..I want you as well, Hannibal. I want you…..as my….Mate.”

“No…...I want you as well, Hannibal. I want you…...as my….Mate.”

Those words echo and re-echo in Hannibal’s mind, while hands begin to peel of clothes until both are free of them as maroon eyes soon look downwards at a beautiful unblemished and un-marked body then the young man rolls into his back, getting up onto his hands and knees.

Dipping his spine in such a way, it shows the perfect curve of it and willing his heart to stop thudding against his ribcage gets over Will to fully mount him at the sametime slipping his hands down the young man’s sides to grip his hips then bends his head down to gently kiss the nape of his soon-to-be-lover.

Inhaling the natural scent of him, making Will turn to nuzzle his nose against his affectionally and stroking his cheek with one hand whispering to him. “Did you just smell me?” as Hannibal, finds himself reaching into his traveling pack to get out the glass bottle of oil – which will just have to do for what was going to happen next.

“Difficult to avoid, Myilamis, when you tempt me so much with your beautiful eyes, lips and body.” He replies in husky whisper, uncorking the bottle of healing oil with one hand and thoroughly coating his fingers in it.

“Hurry…...I want you, Hannibal.” Will whimpers, making Hannibal snarl slightly, biting down on the young man’s nape for his impatience hearing it cause a breathless moan as those fine hips push back into his groin and slipping hand down with fingers coated in the oil, cups between those fine cheeks.

He rubs his oil-coated fingers over the puckered entrance, hearing the soft breathless moans coming from the young man as he starts to spread the oil on it then slips a finger within into tight, warm insides.

Hearing Will soon give a pleasured cry and arch against him slightly, followed by the young man turning his flushed face to look at Hannibal with mouth agape in breathless pants and gasps over his shoulder.

“Please…...Hannibal?”

Kissing Will’s nape, he coats himself enough with the oil and leaning over his soon-to-be-lover or Mate has he been called pushes his hips forwards until finally become fully sheathed within tight, warm insides as he trembles heavily over Will, feeling himself arching slightly when inner muscles choose to clench around his cock in such a way it is exquisite.

“Will…. if you squeeze me like that, I’ll……cum before we even mated properly.” Hannibal pants out, feeling Will relax his inner muscles around him and yet, only start to undulate his hips back and forth into his – the urge to Mate becoming strong.

Breathless moans, harsh pants and gasps followed by skin slapping against skin fills the cave, while the scent of Mating rises into the air then a guttural cry, followed by gasping of “Oh…god!!!…. Will!!!.” and finally silence as both succumb to what they just experienced together.

PART 3

The dawn chorus of birds singing makes Will gently curled up against his now Mate’s or Hannibal’s warm, muscular with the blanket over both their bodies, flutter his eyes open only to shoot them open as he suddenly realises what he has done and panicking heavily, wriggles free out of the older man’s grip.

“Myilamis, what’s wrong?” Hannibal asks him, reaching out for him as he flinches away from it, moving back on his and knees at the sametime a shadow covers the cave entrance to reveal the sight of his Wolf-mother – Murasaki Kushina – who flicks her gaze over to Hannibal, who he can see is now kneeling with his head bowed low.

Blondish hair falling in front of his bowed head, which nearly touches the cave floor, and something is said to his Mate. But he doesn’t understand what is said, so just watches as Hannibal reaches for his strange clothes to slip back on.

“SILENCE, HUMAN!!!”

Hannibal standing in front of Murasaki Kushina – the Wolf Goddess, last of the Ancient Beasts of the Wolf Clan – as she rests on top of a large boulder that juts out from large precipe carved strangely in the shape of a wolf, with it’s mouth bared open, while waterfall falls out of the mouth to tumble down into the abyss below knows he shouldn’t have angered her.

But he had to tell her at some point that Will is going to figure out he is Human of sorts and he came from the land on the other side of Border Pass, while she was not his actual Mother.

“I apologise, Murasaki Kushina-san. But you must understand King Mason wishes me to rid you of the son you have raised as though he was your own and give him the head of the Spirit of the Forest – the Ravenstag – because he believes it can cure whatever is affecting the people of his what are not his lands.” Hannibal apologises to her, remembering when he had seen the beautiful creature at night looking straight at him.

Like it could see deep into his soul. And maybe it could see deep into his soul – see the deep secret he was keeping hidden from other humans around him, about the mark on his arm shaped as golden ferns with black flowers growing on them that if people saw it they would think he had the strange Plague that was spreading through the land of King Mason.

“You must leave, Human. If you came back here to this land, I will rip of your head. Do you understand?” She snarls at him, causing him to lift his head up to stare into those eyes of her’s and finds himself replying. “And leave Will behind. He is Human and Heir of the Wolf-trap Legacy.” Then shouts the rest of the words at her, feeling the anger rising in him.

“HOW LONG DO YOU THINK YOU KEEP HIM LIKE THIS!!! EYES UNCLOUDED FROM WHAT IS STARTING TO HAPPEN!!!”

“ENOUGH, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I HAVE DONE TO PROTECT HIM!!! HIS MOTHER DIED GIVING BIRTH TO HIM AND IF I LEFT HIM HE WOULD HAVE DIED HIMSELF AS A BABE!!!!”

A snarl escapes from Murasaki Kushina, bearing her fangs with dripping saliva and getting up from her perch, jumps down to lunge towards him biting straight down into his shoulder with them – going through muscle and bone.

Blood soon spurts upwards into the air, covering the ground with crimson petals as Hannibal feels himself being pushed backwards to the edge of carved precipe. This forces him to brace his feet apart and place his hands on her muzzle trying to make her see some sense of reason when he suddenly feels he is right at the edge of the precipe of the carved stone wolf’s snout.

“O’KAASAN!!!? NO!!!!?

A shout – Will shouting – makes Murasaki Kushina immediately still in nearly pushing Hannibal off the edge, while he feels himself soon being turned and flung heavily down the jutted precipe causing the blood from his shoulder to smear down the stone.

Covering it slightly in gleaming path of crimson, while he rolls down the arched stone-carved neck of the stone Wolf coming to the bottom where he finds himself hitting a tree branch that had fallen over at some point – a long time ago – with a sickening thud.

He goes to get up, seeing Will has gotten in front of him on his hands and knees looking different from before – his hands have become sharp claws and fangs have unsheathed – and hearing snarling coming from his Lover.

Murasaki Kushina, her muzzle still covered in his own blood looks between them both – to her own adopted son and to Hannibal – making him lower his head slightly, wishing it hadn’t been in this kind of way as she says to him. “What have you done!!!!?”

She pads close, only for Will to get in front of him as the young man’s voice starts to come out in warning snarls for her to back off and hackles raised, while sea bluish-green eyes have become like swirling tempest then something glinting out of the corner of his eye, makes Hannibal try and get up - even though he is deeply wounded.

He watches the iron bullet - that come from a rifle – in slow motion impact into her shoulder, shattering it to an explosion of bone, muscle and blood making Murasaki Kushina stumble backwards only slightly as he manages to hold Will back for his own safety then a loud bang echoes in the air around them, one Hannibal recognises as a fire-cannon – lit by a piece of charcoal causing a reaction to allow the iron ball to explode out towards whoever the weapon had been pointed at.

It slams into the Wolf-Goddess with such force, her large body falls off the precipe of the stone-carved wolf into the raging white-frothed waters of the waterfall that tumbles out of the open mouth down into the rising mist that comes up from the abyss.

Will manages to wriggle out of his grasp, rushing over to edge to look down at the sametime Hannibal – who had taken his crossbow with him, when Murasaki Kushina had asked to talk to him – sensing the person hiding in the foliage of the bushes and trees, kneels up bringing it up then quickly fires an iron arrow to where he can see the hidden Hunter hiding.

It causes a cry to become half-choked one, when it hits and blood spurts up slightly to land on the ground illuminated slightly to indicate he got whoever they had been then immediately drops it when the pain in his shredded wound reminds him he must get to his traveling pack – where healing herbs where in it.

At the sametime, he suddenly hears Will emit a blood-curdling howl – head tilted backwards to expose his throat – of such pure grief, pain and anguish it penetrates deeply into Hannibal’s soul.

Emotions he had locked away after Mischa’s death to become released from the confines of the oubliettes he put them in and allows for single solitary tear to run down his cheek then because of the blood-loss he is experiencing, he feels himself falling to one side with a muffled thump.

His breathing starts to come in laboured gasps, while Will who is still in his Wolf-like state comes over to him starting to nudge him to try make him keep his eyes open as he hears his Lover whining heavily – not able to speak – at him.

“It’s alright, Will. I want…leave…. you…...It’s alright….”

Hannibal manages to say, before darkness sweeps in like raven’s wings and covers his vision as he sinks into unconscious state.

In the centre of the forest, where the Spirit of the Forest – the Ravenstag – dwells, is a large island with giant sequoia growing on it as the roots of the large tree reach beneath the earth and into the lake, while it is the island that Will now leads Hannibal’s horse – Cersai – with Hannibal on her bare back, until they finally both reach it.

Reaching up with his hands, Will pulls Hannibal off her bare back into the water pulling his Mate over to soft bed of moss, where wildflowers – rare and unknown to any Human eye – grow then sunlight soon filters down from through the large gap of the ring of trees to shine down on the three figures – a horse, a young man with Wolf-blood running through his veins and Hunter who was now his Mate and had captured his heart.

Blackness like ink from inkwell surrounds Hannibal Lecter as the man lays calmly on the bed of moss, surrounded by wildflowers as little Kodoma start to appear curious and intrigued by him then sit around him – some on the moss-covered rocks and others on the roots of the Great Sequoia.

A tinkling noise echoes in the air, followed by leaf from way above starting to float gently downwards swaying and dancing in the soft breeze until finally it lands in the clear lake water to be blown gently across as the Spirit of the Forest – the Ravenstag.

The Kodoma seeing their Lord, head away and up the tree in trail of white until finally disappearing leaving the area empty of them.

It begins to walk, bringing down it’s cloven each-time onto the lake water causing golden ripples to spread outwards on the water until it finally comes up to Hannibal, looking down at him.

Black eyes seeming to show a multitude of a field of stars in them, while it soon bends its fine head down to touch it’s snout to the ragged shoulder wound allowing for golden ripple to spread outwards over it then pulls back, seeing the Curse mark from an Ancient Beast turned into a Daemon on the Hunter’s wrist whispering into the man’s mind:

You must find a way to heal that yourself, Lord Hannibal Lecter of the Dvaras Line.

Then finished with the task it has done of healing the ragged shoulder wound made by the fangs of Murasaki Kushina – Ancient Beast and Last of the Wolf Clan – tilts it’s head upwards to the canopy of ringed trees as it body starts to change.

In the canopy of the ringed trees, little white Kodama begin to appear watching their Lord, who has now become the Spirit-Walker of Moon – who is also known as the Ravenstag when it is day – and slowly one by one their heads begin to click back and forth, while Spirit-Walker of the Moon starts to walk making the gentle breeze become a strong wind.

This moves the tops of the large swathes of the trees all around in the forest back and forth like waves going back and forth on the sea-shore, while the little white Kodoma move with the wind as Spirit-Walker begins its nightly vigil.

You must find a way to heal that yourself, Lord Hannibal Lecter of the Dvaras Line.”

Weakly fluttering his eyes open, Hannibal hears that phrase that been whispered to him in the dream or had it been a dream echo until dissipating like it never existed as laughter – child-like – fills his ears, followed by a voice saying his name. “Hannebae.” then finds himself hoarsely whispering the spirit's name "Mischa"

She giggles softly, her laughter soft and light. Just like it had been when she been alive, while he goes to get up only to wince heavily when his wounded shoulder protests making him place a hand to it. Only to feel where there had been a ragged wound is now healed flesh - like Murasaki Kushina had never sunk her fangs - then lays back down, while Mischa comes up to sit in front of him.

He tries to understand:

Why had the Spirit of the Forest - the Ravenstag - healed him in this way?

But why?

And for what purpose?

Soft, little hands cupping his cheeks makes him look at the spirit of his sister Mischa and smiling softly, rests his forehead against her's - like he used do when they were children then understand he was been given a chance to say goodbye to her.

As he hadn’t had when she had been murdered by the rogue General – Vladimir Grutas – and pulling back, strokes her cheek lightly with the back of his knuckles as her beautiful eyes inherited from their mother seem to sparkle with happiness at being allowed before she moves onto the Spirit World that she can say goodbye to him and Hannibal to her.

“Goodbye, sweet little Mischa.”

He whispers hearing her whispered reply of “Hannebae.” allowing for the tear that has formed to run down his cheek to plip onto the grass where her Spirit had been then lowering his hands down to his lap, senses his mare – Cersai – come up to from where she had been grazing.

Nudging his head lightly with her snout, making him bring his hand up to go and cup her cheek, when he stiffens at the sight of the mark on his wrist making him lower it to unlace his tunic sleeve seeing as he un-wraps the bandage that covers it – seeing the gold ferns with black flowers on them has spread more.

The Curse Mark came from an Ancient Boar God who due to iron bullet made by Mason’s Blacksmith Francis Dolerhyde – the man not knowing the weapons he made would be used to get rid of the Ancient Beasts in the Northern Lands – become a Plague Monster – a seething mass of hatred, rage and anger.

It had nearly destroyed the village he been staying in, before traveling to Baltimore, Maryland and knowing the cost of becoming permanently cursed if he allowed it to gore him in any way Hannibal had killed it – severing its life.

But it had managed to wound and curse by stabbing one of it’s tusks into his lower abdomen before he had done so, spreading the Curse it carried into his bloodstream and so creating within him The Chesapeake Ripper.

The Wise Woman of the village in the Western Land, who had experienced a vision of this event happening had told him he must leave before he affects the whole village by mindlessly slaughtering them in a bloodlust fury.

Leaving the village behind he had also left his betrothed-to-be Miriam Lass – the Village Chief’s daughter – and remembers how she was always curious and investigating into things she really shouldn’t have.

She had given him just before he left, both of her curved crystal daggers forcing him to not break his promise that if he found a cure he would return to her because she was his Betrothed.

The daggers were made from crystal mined from the caves near the Village in the Western Land – sharp and deadly, while glinting with many hues of dark purple, emerald and purple.

Deciding not to dwell on those memories, he lays back down feeling still drained of energy and sorting the bandage rolls his sleeve back down then just stares up at the canopy of the ringed trees, seeing the wispy white clouds spreading outwards in the light blue sky.

Sunlight streams down through the canopies of the mixed trees, illuminating certain patches of ground as Will comes to the edge of large lake occupied by a large island with a Giant Sequoia.

He heads over to some moss-covered stones jutting out of the water gently bounding across them leaving only a light footprint in his wake. It soon disappears as the moss springs back.

His Mate Hannibal is awake, resting on a moss-bed surrounded by wildflowers as Cersai – his dappled grey white mare is lying beside him on his left-hand side. Hannibal must have sensed him or heard him in some way, because the man rises slightly up on his elbows giving a smile – a weak one, but still a smile – then getting on his hands and knees, pads up to the man.

Rising slightly up onto his elbows, Hannibal sits up instead when Will indicates the Scent-marking Ritual so tilting his head backwards exposes his neck to allow himself to be scent-mark it then when that is done, does the same to his young lover.

“Are you hungry?” I brought some food.” Will asks him – after they have affectionally nuzzled against each-other – reaching into a makeshift pouch-bag made from rabbit skins – dried and tanned in the sun – to bring out some dry-cured meat.

He watches place it in his own mouth, chewing it and placing his hands-on Hannibal’s shoulders leans towards him to feed him this way - the meat transferred by mouth to mouth, until he feels his strength slowly starting to return then notices Will has slid one hand down to place it on his abdomen.

"Will, what's wrong? Is your stomach hurting?" Hannibal asks, going to reach when a warning growl coming from Will's Wolf-sister makes him lower his hand and look over to her.

"Do not touch. Unless you are willing to submit by exposing your belly." She says, making him look to his young lover for confirmation if he should and Will silently nods to him.

Managing to move, he lays on his side to expose his belly like he has been asked and waits for Will to indicate to him he has passed the… test… tasked him with then his hand is taken hold of and placed on his young lover’s abdomen.

“Hannibal, I’m pregnant. I’ve conceived your child as it seems when we mated the Crescent moon was in the sky. It means for Wolves that it is Mating Season.” Will tells him, with tear-filled eyes filled with tears of happiness, joy and gladness they were having a family.

Will was bearing. His young lover with Wolf-blood in his veins was pregnant with his child or children and find himself trembling heavily because he knows he must tell Will also about the Curse-mark he bears.

“Will….” He begins to say, when Will’s three Wolf-brothers suddenly appear from the other side of the shoreline and after bounding across the stones, surround them as Hannibal sees they are looking over to the densest part of the shoreline.

Great hulking shadows move into the sunlight streaming down to reveal thousands of boars being led by one who could be a leader of some kind.

“Boars from the Western Lands.” One of Will’s Wolf-brother’s – Hiharo – says and asks a question, which even Hannibal can’t answer now. “Why have they come here?”

Had the Strange Plague reached the Western lands without his knowledge?

Hannibal feels concerned now at seeing the sight of Boars that knew roamed the forests of the Western lands and notices one is looking at him.

“I am Will of the Murasaki Kushina Clan. Why have you come to here?”

Hannibal standing close to his young lover, who has introduced himself to the Boar Leader, who stands with a large herd of thousand strong Warrior Boars – whispering among themselves as why a Human was in the Northern Lands, home of the Spirit of the Forest – the Ravenstag.

“I am Ouras, second-in-command of Lord Jakkoto’s Boar Clan.” The Boar – Ouras - replies, followed looking over to Hannibal and back to Will, asking the young man a question. “Why is a Human here than…in this forest?”

“Hannibal is my….Mate. He was badly wounded, so the Spirit of the Forest healed him” Will replies, causing Ouras to stare at him with widened eyes and turns his gaze back to Hannibal saying the next words in sneering tone, so his young lover can hear them.

“Then why didn’t the Spirit of the Forest – the Ravenstag – save the Queen of our Clan. Because your…..Mate….murdered her in cold blood without mercy.”

“HOW DARE YOU, PIG!!!!”

Hannibal hears his young lover’s Wolf-sister – Chiyoh – snarling with fangs bared, making him step in front of her and rolling his tunic sleeve down then unwraps the bandage to reveal to Ouras and everyone else – including Will – the Curse-mark.

“YOUR LYING!!!! THAT DID NOT HAPPEN TO OUR QUEEN!!!”

“OURAS, ENOUGH. SILENCE YOUR TONGUE THIS INSTANT!!!”

Everything goes still. All the Boars bowing their heads low as Ouras – now ashamed of his actions – does the same and pads back so not incur the wrath of the Great Boar God, last of his kind and one of the Ancient Beasts mentioned in Ancient times – the Lord Jakkoto.

The large Boar towers above all other Boars and a normal-sized Human, while coming up to Hannibal who soon notices Lord Jakkoto is blind in both eyes.

Placing his hand on the Boar’s snout, he stays still as Lord Jakkoto deeply inhales to read everything from the Curse-mark then satisfied the large Boar steps back from him, while Hannibal now waits.

“The…Human did not kill her Queen.” Lord Jakkoto says to his Clan-members, while Will comes over to Hannibal and wraps his arms around his waist then taking a deep breath, Hannibal begins to tell the story.

He tells of the Tribal Village in the Western Lands where he stayed during his travels, which had suddenly become attacked one by an Ancient Beasts who had become a Plague Beast – a seething mass of anger, rage and hate – and would have destroyed everything in it’s path of Hannibal hadn’t killed it.

It was only afterwards, he found out that it had been a female Boar Goddess affected by an Iron bullet used by King Mason’s men. The weapons he found out were used to kill Ancient Beasts.

“Lord Jakkoto, I am sorry for taking the life of your Mate and Queen of your Clan.” He apologises, hearing many of the Boars of the Clan start to cry heavily at the fact their Queen had succumbed to something they had heard only rumours about.

#Hannigram fan-fic #Studio Ghibli AU

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upstartpoodle · 7 years

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Mirror Worlds

Summary: The fourth chapter of my George x Elizabeth magic AU, in which Elizabeth is a magician and George is a fairy. This chapter: George seeks refuge from his pursuers in the human world and Elizabeth and her father find something of interest at the site of the latest attack.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 4: Snakes and Deer Skulls

The first thing that Mac an Rìgh a' Bhàis noticed when he emerged from the winding tunnel he had been hurled into when he'd stepped through the portal was the sound of waves crashing against rock far below him. He was immediately alert, tempted to shrink back into the strange structure the tunnel had led up to--a peculiar thing, clearly built by humans with some kind of chimneypiece sat atop of it. That sound rarely meant anything good in Faerie--they had all come to recognise the particular resonance of the noise that accompanied the waves reaching the cliffs at high tidecoming. Still, he could not remain hidden in this strange little place for long--he had no idea how long his makeshift barrier might hold, and if the guards were to follow him through, he wanted to be well hidden by the time they did. With that in mind, he took a deep breath and stepped out of the shelter he had found for himself and out onto the clifftops.

The wind was strong, catching in his hair and under his folded wings, still largely concealed by his cloak, as he squinted his eyes to shield them from the worst of it, but it was nowhere near as powerful as the storms he was accustomed to. There were also very little clouds in the dark sky, filled with tiny pinpricks of light that he knew in theory to be stars but had never actually seen before. Hanging amongst them was a moon, white rather than red, and small compared to that in Faerie, nothing but a thin, crescent-shaped slither in the sky. He blinked, staring at the unfamiliar vision above him, and felt a prickle of unease deep in the recesses of his mind.

Shaking himself, he turned his gaze downwards wit no small amount of dread--down towards the sea. As he regarded it, he felt a sudden jolt of shock. He could only presume that this land's tide as currently at its highest, for the water was right up against the cliffs, waves foaming and frothing and breaking against the jagged stone, and yet... And yet it was so...low down. The water was nowhere near the clifftops, the waves roiling at their base rather than surging and crashing right over onto the land above them. Without warning, Mac an Rìgh a' Bhàis was hit by a sense of unreality, as if he were dreaming, and is mind were making sport of the surroundings he had grown up with, twisting them into strange, unfamiliar shapes before his eyes. He swallowed nervously, the sudden realisation that he was alone in a land he ultimately knew very little about a sharp pang in chest. No Uncle, no Cousin. Not even his various names meant anything here...

If he had thought he could have risked it, he might have remained there for Gods knew how long, staring at the strange view and fretting about the situation he had suddenly found himself in. However, he was all too aware that his makeshift barrier would not hold forever, and he could not afford to be out in the open should the forces of his no longer father break through into this world. As such, he spared the sea one last wary glance, turned to face the silvery, moonlit land behind him, and Shifted.

Changing one's shape was a fairly common skill amongst the fae, and Mac an Rìgh a' Bhàis--or rather the now nameless fairy who could no longer claim the title of the man he had spurned in his escape--had always been adept at it. He allowed the Shift to wash over him and he shrank, assuming the pale, elegant form of a barn owl that he typically favoured. Then, he took to the air, regarding the empty land below him warily.

As he flew, he sailed over many of the humans' strange above ground dwellings, but didn't dare stop to observe any of them properly. From the soft lights glowing in the peculiar gaps that he could only suppose were there to allow the humans to look outside--he, after all, had never lived above ground--he guessed that their inhabitants must be awake, though not all the dwellings were lit from the inside. He flew past all these places as quickly as he could, not daring to linger despite his disguise.

Eventually, he began to tire, the rush of adrenaline that had kept him sustained through his flight from Faerie having abated, and he began to look for somewhere where he could rest. That was when he came across it--the grim silhouette against the dark, star-filled sky. It must have been one of the humans' dwellings, he supposed as he circled it cautiously, and a grand one at that, being significantly larger than the somewhat unimpressive structures he had passed by earlier. Or at least, that was what it must have been before the forces of Rìgh a' Bhàis had been unleashed on it, for from the charred, broken skeleton of what had once been a home, he recognised the work of the lower echelons of his foster father's army all too well.

As he gazed upon the sight, having paused to hover in mid-air, a thought occurred to him. This place had already been attacked by Rìgh a' Bhàis--and they certainly hadn't done the job by halves--so there was no reason for any of his forces to return there, and even less reason for any humans to come here at this time, when everyone seemed to be tucked up safely in their own homes. It was morbid, perhaps, and it would have been a lie if he'd said he were in anyway comfortable in resting where Gods knew how many humans had been killed, but beggars could not be choosers, and his options were frankly few and far between.

That decided, he soared down to the structure, landing at its very top, surrounded by what remained of the walls, vicious, crumbling chunks pointing up towards the sky like enormous stone fingers. As he Shifted back to his own form, he shivered slightly, not daring to go deeper into the building for fear of finding something...unsavoury. As such, he resigned himself to finding shelter in the remains of what must have been the top floor of the dwelling. With a sigh, he lay down, curled up with his wings draped around him, more for comfort than cold, and closed his eyes.

It was early the next morning when Elizabeth and her father headed out to what had once been the country seat of the Bassets, both grim-faced yet equally determined. Not wanting draw unwelcome attention to themselves or where they were going, they had decided to leave Cusgarne at some time around dawn, when any who might remark upon their destination would likely be tucked up safely in their own homes. This, unfortunately, included Mrs Chynoweth who, having figured out exactly what they planned to do, had made her icy disapproval known over dinner the previous evening. Oh, she hadn't spoken on the subject--Elizabeth knew that her mother considered such talk to be inappropriate for mealtimes--but the pinched, fierce glare she had been sending each of them over the table had said it all. Later, Mrs Chynoweth herself had said it all in a loud angry voice to her husband, his heated responses muffled by the closed door of the parlour, once they had thought Elizabeth had retired for the night. However, much to her mother's dismay, no amount of lecturing about what was seemly could dissuade either of them from their self-appointed task.

As such, the pair of them had crept out of Cusgarne like thieves that morning, rushing off quietly as possible (which, when one was on horseback, was admittedly difficult). Once they were out of hearing range, they allowed themselves to ride as hard and as fast as they could, determined to get this over and done with. This afforded no opportunity for conversation, and they remained silent as they rode, each lost in their own thoughts.

Those thoughts were quickly pulled into harsh, unpleasant reality, however as what remained of the Bassets' home came into view. Elizabeth slowed with a gasp, her mount, sensing her agitation, tossing his head and whickering in distress. She reached out to soothe the animal, vaguely aware that her father had come to a stop beside her with a faint whisper of "my God", but she only had eyes for the horrible sight before her. Of course, she had seen the aftermath of these sorts of attacks before, what with them having become all too frequent in these past months, but none of them, for all that they had been bloody, and vicious, had been as ruthless as this.

What had once been the proud country hose was in utter ruins, the roof caved in, huge gaps in the walls, fragments of glass and wood splintered and shattered over the remnants of the building. Everything was blackened, marred from the fire, leaving the once pale stone a dark, fragmented mass against the still pink-streaked sky. The land around it too bore the scars of the attack, a faint gust of wind filling her nostrils with the acrid smell of burnt vegetation. Her eyes stung, and she blinked, the sudden tears that had formed under her lids by no means jut the product of the stench.

"My God," her father breathed for a second time, his face ashen. "I thought the previous attacks were bad but this..."

He trailed off, shaking his head grimly.

"This is nothing so mundane as a simple raid for resources," he said. "Nor is it mindless violence. This was done with the express purpose of obliterating any who were inside at the time..."

Elizabeth, with a bleak look at their dismal surroundings, couldn't help but agree. But still, the question remained: why?

"Those poor souls" she murmured, more to herself than anything, but her father nodded along with her nevertheless.

"We can only hope that, if we find out the reasons behind these attacks, we might be better placed to prevent anyone else from meeting this fate" he said darkly.

That served as a stark reminder of why they were here in the first place, and they both shook themselves before setting off to work. They dismounted, tethering their horses at a nearby tree--twisted and blackened like everything else in the vicinity of the house--and approached the building cautiously. Once they were confident that nobody remained to present a danger to them, they turned their attention to the place itself, looking for something--anything--that might provide them with any clues as to what the creatures' aims had been.

Elizabeth wasn't sure how long they had been searching before her father called out to her, having stooped up to pick something up off the ground a little way away from the house. By the time she reached his side, he was staring at it with such a look of concentration that she thought he might do himself a damage if he tried any harder to discern some sort of meaning from it. However, when she got a look at it herself, she saw exactly why he had deemed the thing of interest.

It was a charred, frayed piece of black cloth, clearly having been ripped from whatever garment it had been part of. This in itself was not particularly remarkable. In fact, Elizabeth doubted that her father would have noticed it had it not been for the design printed on it in stark white--that of a stylised deer skull, it's antlers curving wickedly up to the corners of the cloth, with two twisted serpents coming out of the eye sockets in the shape of an upside down hook. Elizabeth swallowed nervously as she regarded it, her skin crawling uncomfortably.

"What do you think it means?" she asked her father.

Mr Chynoweth frowned.

"I suspect it is some kind of sigil" he replied.

"That of a rath king?"

Her father nodded thoughtfully.

"Probably," he said. "Though I could not possibly say which king it belongs to, nor how powerful they are. We shall have to do some digging in that library of ours--hopefully we might find a match amongst some of the older texts."

Even as he said this, he did not sound optimistic. There were no records of anything that had occurred in the fae lands neighbouring theirs since their peoples had fallen out back in the Middle Ages--the odd intrepid magician had tried to gather that information, of course, but none had ever returned. Thus it was to be expected that, given what little they knew of how kingship was passed on in fae society, very few of those who had been in power at the time that the texts sequestered away in her father's attic room had been written would likely not have remained so this long.

"Still, it can at least tell us something," remarked Mr Chynoweth. "It must have been ripped from one of the horde in the fight, and if they were wearing their king's sigil, that likely means they were fighting on their king's behalf. And if that were the case, we can only conclude--"

"That these were organised and deliberate attacks" finished Elizabeth, dread coiling in the pit of her stomach.

"Exactly," her father replied grimly. "The question, though, is whether they are the work of a petty king looking for a simple means of acquiring resources, or is there some greater purpose behind these incidents which we are as yet unaware of?"

He cut himself off, hissing in frustration and running a hand viciously through his hair.

"If only we knew what was happening on their side," he sighed. "It is no easy task to counteract something when you only have the vaguest idea of what is causing it."

Elizabeth nodded, shivering slightly as she glanced around at the scorched, decimated landscape. It was a grim sight, she reflected, and one that did not become any less unnerving the longer one lingered there. In fact, on top of the horrible connotations of the charred ground and the crumbling, broken building behind her, she now got the distinct impression that she was being watched--

Wait. What?

In an instant, she whirled around in alarm, staring intently up into the blackened structure. For a long moment she stood stock still, eyes narrowed, ignoring the look of concern her father was sending her. Nothing. And then--yes, there. A flicker of movement up in one of the empty window frames that had once belonged to the great house's attic that could not be attributed to a bird, nor any other animal.

"What is that?" she murmured.

The fairy who had once been known as Mac an Rìgh a' Bhàis but who now had no names woke up to a bright, painful burst of light searing though the closed lids of his eyes. With a groan, he curled in on himself, frowning as he tried to lessen the pounding in his head. What was that light? Had he been found--? That last thought was enough to make him open his eyes and sit bold upright. At which point he was practically blinded by a pale, burning light that could neither be attributed to moon, stars nor fire. Hissing in pain, he brought one hand up to shield his eyes, the other pressing into the floor below him to steady himself--

And immediately withdrew with an accompanying yelp, the palm of his hand stinging. Blinking, he tried to take a look at his hand, to see what had caused the pain, but his vision was swimming with white spots, everything blurred before his eyes. He pressed his middle finger and thumb to his closed lids in order to dispel the sensation, and eventually the patterns receded, leaving him with a clear view of his injured hand.

He was bleeding, he realised, from a gash cut diagonally across his palm. Perhaps he had leaned on something sharp. Frowning, he looked around him and saw several jagged, clear shards scattered across the floor. Glass... But there was so much of it. Why was there so much glass? In his own lands, glass was a rare commodity due to the dangers of travelling down onto the beach to collect sand, one which only those of considerable prestige and power could boast of owning in considerable quantities. His own father--not Rìgh a' Bhàis, but his true father; the one he had long been forbidden to even think of by his foster father--had been a glass blower--a considerable step up from his father, who had worked metal--and that had caught the attention of the Western Cliffs' previous king, whose name was now forbidden to be spoken throughout those lands.

Perhaps glass was not so precious here, he considered as he summoned a little of his magic, his fingertips glowing silver as he healed the cut with ease. Glancing around him, he found its source. One of those strange gaps in what remained of the walls was lined with wicked, clear fragments, and from the shattered pieces on the ground around him, he could only presume that it had once been an entire clear panel of glass. Given the number of gaps in the walls he had seen in this particular building, he supposed that whoever had lived here must have been important. But then, they must have been important to garner the attention of Rìgh a' Bhàis as well.

Then, all of a sudden, a noise below him caught his attention. He frowned, cocking his head to one side as he listened to the sound. Voices. Who would be approaching a place so thoroughly ravaged so soon after the event had occurred? He was instantly alert, fearing that the forces of Rìgh a' Bhàis may have found him, but as he listened, he realised that these people were speaking in the human tongue he recognised but did not understand. There were only two voices, as far as he could tell--a man's and a woman's. Surely they could not be that dangerous? With that in mind, he crept over to the gaps in the charred wall that he had observed earlier, peering out of it down to the ground below in order to observe the newcomers.

There were indeed two of them, as he had guessed. One was a young woman, perhaps the human equivalent of his own age. The other was an older man (her father perhaps?). Both were scrutinising something held in the man's hands, discussing it with perplexed and worried frowns on their faces. What were they doing?, he wondered. Was this normal behaviour for humans, or were these two just particularly peculiar?

After a short while, the woman glanced around her, clearly unnerved by her surroundings. He didn't blame her--this was hardly his favourite choice of lodgings either. Then, he saw her stiffen, and before he knew it, she had spun on her heel and was staring up at the structure, right up towards where he was hidden. The fairy panicked, ducking out of sight as quickly as he could. He had little more desire to be found by the humans than he did by his foster father's soldiers. Though he did not know much about this land, or its people, he was well aware that it had been a long time since they had been friends to his own kind, and he had no desire to discover what their reaction to him would be anytime soon.

He didn't move right away, hoping against all reason that the woman had not spotted him. That hope was quickly dashed when he heard two pairs of footsteps approaching his hiding place slowly, cautiously. Tensing, he drew back from the source of the sound, his wings drooping slightly as he let out a short sigh. There was nothing for it, then. Drawing in a deep breath, he closed his eyes and prepared to Shift.

"What was it exactly that you saw?" asked Mr Chynoweth as they cautiously ascended the crumbling staircase up to what had once been the attic of the house, only held together by copious use of spellwork on both their parts.

"I am not sure," whispered Elizabeth in reply from her place behind him--her father may have been enthusiastic in encouraging her to join him in things such as this but he was not about to let her leap into danger ahead of him. "Just movement in one of the windows--something bigger than any kind of animal that could get up there."

Mr Chynoweth hissed through his teeth, his star iron pistol drawn. She herself was ready to cast should they be attacked. Both tense and alert, they reached the top of the staircase, minds racing as they thought through the possibilities of what could be waiting for them up there. Her father glanced behind him and their eyes met. He gave a little nod and, with that, they stepped out onto the floor of the attic and--

"Nothing" her father muttered confusedly.

Elizabeth, emerging from the staircase a beat later, blinked, frowning at her surroundings. Her father was indeed correct. The former attic was empty, save for themselves. Nothing but splintered, burnt bits of wood, fallen stone and shattered glass.

"I definitely saw something though," she murmured, half to convince herself as much as her father. "There was definitely something up here."

"Oh, you are right about that, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth turned at the response to see her father crouched down over one of the shards of glass. As she came over to him, she spotted a fleck of red. Blood.

"It's still fresh," Mr Chynoweth remarked, moving to stand and glancing around them. "That means that there was something--or someone--up here. The question is: where have they gone now?"

Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully, pushing down the slight prickle of unease that was surfacing in the back of her mind. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a ghostly white shape soaring away from them across the fields. Turning to regard it properly, she saw a barn owl flying towards the woods rather faster and rather earlier in the day than was typically the custom of such a creature. Blinking, she stared at it, tracing its swiftly moving form with a slight frown on her face.

"What is it?" her father asked, coming to stand beside her and following her gaze.

Elizabeth's frown deepened.

"I could not say" she replied, watching as the owl was swallowed up by the trees.

Next Chapter: George is reunited with a familiar face, and plans are made.

#mine #my fic #mirror worlds #mirror worlds chapter 4 #george warleggan #elizabeth warleggan #elizabeth chynoweth #george x elizabeth #elizabeth x george #georgibeth #poldark #poldark au #fic #mw chapter

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hannigramfanfic · 5 years

Text

Hannibal Fanstory: “The Hunter and Child of the Lupin” Or “Kiss of a Lupin” or “Prince of Wolves - Vilku kunigaikstis

More Extra bits added

PROLOGUE

—————————

12 MONTHS LATER

Baltimore, Maryland – the former Kingdom of the Missing King Crawford

Despair.

Pestilence.

Starvation.

“Mister? Mister? Please any…. spare coins to spare?”

He couldn’t let the Inner Predator in him loose just yet.

It wasn’t the right……time for it.

————————————–

Hmm, yes?

Oh, you want to hear of what lies beyond this place.

Well that is…. the Northern land as far as the crow can fly to it or a horse can travel to it. Not that I’ve tried to travel there myself.

It is said the creature possesses the body of a stag, a coat of lustrous Raven’s feathers and a thicket of antler’s that are larger a normal stag’s antlers.

But that is only myth told from the Ancient Text as no-one has ever seen this creature described and yet, it is what Mason fears for some reason.

You ask me why?

It is believed because of Prophesy told to him by a mysterious cloaked figure wearing robes of sea bluish-green and holding a stuff, bearing the carving of Raven that is why. And hear is thus:

Neither Human or even a man

When the Crescent moon doth shine and become full

Turning crimson like spilled blood in the inky, black sky

Come will something that will tear and ravage you asunder

It will break your stone you surround yourself with

Bellow out it’s war cry like the horn of a Carnyx

And pierce you to the very throne you defiled

Beware the golden eyes in the night.

PART 1

There is a difference – on the back of one of the Mother Alpha Wolf – last of the remaining Ancient Beasts of the Wolf Clan – is a young man, gripping her fur mixed with silvery highlights.

Will knows nothing of his heritage or even where he comes from. He believes his real mother is Murasaki Kushina and knows nothing of what the birthmark on his shoulder means.

“O’kaasan, where are we going?” He asks her in the language of the Wolves – that she had taught him, and she answers in her deep soft voice. “It’s a surprise, my dear little one.”

Will smiles at that. Being with his Wolf-mother, brothers and sisters he knows nothing of the Human beyond the forest he was born in and has not seen another human ever in his life.

If only he knew at the time in the Kingdom of Mason Verger, a Hunter would soon be arriving in the forest he lived in and would change his life forever.

Having a hidden personality of his own.

He wondered:

Why had they come here to where he lived?

What purpose had brought them here?

“Speak Human. You have come into our Forest with some purpose. Why?” Will hears his O’kaasan growling with her fangs bared in warning, while he slips off her back and keeps close to her.

He knows if he makes a wrong move, four wolves and a one of them an Ancient Beast described in Ancient Texts saying to have existed in this forest, could easily tear him to a bloodied mess.

Another presence though makes him turn his face to look down the large river, seeing a sight he would never forget even until his and the young man’s tale had faded into history.

PART 2

“If…. you don’t hurry. I won’t last much longer.”

“Don’t worry….I plan to extend this for very long indeed, Hunter.”

“Not….haaa….You wee minx!!!?….not Hunter, but Hannibal.”

“Hannibal….….hmm…then evidently I should tell you mine.”

“Yes…. ahhh!!…Oh, there, you wee minx!!!”

“Will, my name is Will.”

“You want….me?”

“Is that so much to ask of you?”

“No…..I want you as well, Hannibal. I want you…..as my….Mate.”

“No……I want you as well, Hannibal. I want you……as my….Mate.”

“Hurry……I want you, Hannibal.” Will whimpers, making Hannibal snarl slightly, biting down on the young man’s nape for his impatience hearing it cause a breathless moan as those fine hips push back into his groin and slipping hand down with fingers coated in the oil, cups between those fine cheeks.

“Please……Hannibal?”

PART 3

“SILENCE, HUMAN!!!”

But he had to tell her at some point that Will is going to figure out he is Human of sorts and he came from the land on the other side of Border Pass, while she was not his actual Mother.

“HOW LONG DO YOU THINK YOU KEEP HIM LIKE THIS!!! EYES UNCLOUDED FROM WHAT IS STARTING TO HAPPEN!!!”

“ENOUGH, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I HAVE DONE TO PROTECT HIM!!! HIS MOTHER DIED GIVING BIRTH TO HIM AND IF I LEFT HIM HE WOULD HAVE DIED HIMSELF AS A BABE!!!!”

“O’KAASAN!!!? NO!!!!?

At the sametime, he suddenly hears Will emit a blood-curdling howl – head tilted backwards to expose his throat – of such pure grief, pain and anguish it penetrates deeply into Hannibal’s soul.

“It’s alright, Will. I want…leave…. you……It’s alright….”

Hannibal manages to say, before darkness sweeps in like raven’s wings and covers his vision as he sinks into unconscious state.

The Kodoma seeing their Lord, head away and up the tree in trail of white until finally disappearing leaving the area empty of them.

It begins to walk, bringing down it’s cloven each-time onto the lake water causing golden ripples to spread outwards on the water until it finally comes up to Hannibal, looking down at him.

You must find a way to heal that yourself, Lord Hannibal Lecter of the Dvaras Line.

You must find a way to heal that yourself, Lord Hannibal Lecter of the Dvaras Line.”

He tries to understand:

Why had the Spirit of the Forest - the Ravenstag - healed him in this way?

But why?

And for what purpose?

Soft, little hands cupping his cheeks makes him look at the spirit of his sister Mischa and smiling softly, rests his forehead against her’s - like he used do when they were children then understand he was been given a chance to say goodbye to her.

“Goodbye, sweet little Mischa.”

She had given him just before he left, both of her curved crystal daggers forcing him to not break his promise that if he found a cure he would return to her because she was his Betrothed.

The daggers were made from crystal mined from the caves near the Village in the Western Land – sharp and deadly, while glinting with many hues of dark purple, emerald and purple.

Sunlight streams down through the canopies of the mixed trees, illuminating certain patches of ground as Will comes to the edge of large lake occupied by a large island with a Giant Sequoia.

He heads over to some moss-covered stones jutting out of the water gently bounding across them leaving only a light footprint in his wake. It soon disappears as the moss springs back.

"Will, what’s wrong? Is your stomach hurting?” Hannibal asks, going to reach when a warning growl coming from Will’s Wolf-sister makes him lower his hand and look over to her.

“Do not touch. Unless you are willing to submit by exposing your belly.” She says, making him look to his young lover for confirmation if he should and Will silently nods to him.

Great hulking shadows move into the sunlight streaming down to reveal thousands of boars being led by one who could be a leader of some kind.

“Boars from the Western Lands.” One of Will’s Wolf-brother’s – Hiharo – says and asks a question, which even Hannibal can’t answer now. “Why have they come here?”

Had the Strange Plague reached the Western lands without his knowledge?

Hannibal feels concerned now at seeing the sight of Boars that knew roamed the forests of the Western lands and notices one is looking at him.

“I am Will of the Murasaki Kushina Clan. Why have you come to here?”

Hannibal standing close to his young lover, who has introduced himself to the Boar Leader, who stands with a large herd of thousand strong Warrior Boars – whispering among themselves as why a Human wasin the Northern Lands, home of the Spirit of the Forest – the Ravenstag.

“Then why didn’t the Spirit of the Forest – the Ravenstag – save the Queen of our Clan. Because your…..Mate….murdered her in cold blood without mercy.”

“HOW DARE YOU, PIG!!!!”

“YOUR LYING!!!! THAT DID NOT HAPPEN TO OUR QUEEN!!!”

“OURAS, ENOUGH. SILENCE YOUR TONGUE THIS INSTANT!!!”

#hannigram #hannibal nbc #will graham x hannibal lecter #fanfic #fanfiction #submission

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