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Chapter 6: Embrace the Dance

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 3,5k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings A/n: New chapter because I couldn't help myself. I'm obsessed. (unedited)

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“You’ve gotten married?” Hannibal inquires as he leads you into the expansive living room, his tone carrying a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“We did,” you confirm, offering him a soft smile as you accept the glass of wine from his hand. Beside you, Will maintains a rigid expression, his gaze fixed on your interaction with Dr. Lecter, a subtle tension lingering in the air.

“How has it been so far?” the doctor continues his line of questioning, his tone casual but his gaze lingering on you for a touch too long, unsettling in its intensity. It’s clear he’s enjoying this interaction, his keen interest palpable in the way he studies your response.

“It hasn’t been long ago...but we’ve known each other long enough to understand we want this,” you add, your words weighted with deeper meaning than mere verbal acknowledgment.

Hannibal takes a sip from his wine glass and offers you a small smile as he sets it down. His eyes remain fixed on you, scrutinizing every subtle movement, every shift in your body language. It’s clear that he’s thoroughly enjoying this interaction, his attention focused solely on you and the dynamics at play.

His enjoyment seems far too indulgent, almost as if he’s relishing the role he’s playing in this narrative. You’re tempted to remind him of his place, to assert that he shouldn’t be deriving such pleasure from this exchange. After all, he’s meant to be the villain in this story.

But something about the way he holds himself, the confidence in his demeanor, makes it difficult to confront him. His charm is disarming, weaving a web of intrigue that draws you in despite your better judgment. As you search for the right words to break the spell, Hannibal leans in slightly, his voice a low, velvety whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

“Why resist, my dear? Embrace the dance we’re engaged in, for it is in these moments of tension that true beauty is revealed.”

You blink once, then twice, and find yourself comfortably seated on the couch. Will is beside you, his knuckles lightly grazing your covered knee as he holds a wine glass in his other hand. The liquid inside remains at the same level as before, yet your glass is mysteriously empty. You can’t fathom how it disappeared.

Nearby, Hannibal is seated in an armchair, quietly observing the two of you. You begin to question if you hallucinated his words; he wasn’t close enough for his voice to be so distinct. Could it be that you’ve had too much to drink?

“I just wanted to finally call her my wife,” Will says, taking a sip of his wine, his gaze fixed firmly on Hannibal.

Hannibal’s smile widens ever so slightly at Will’s words, a glint of something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “And rightfully so, Will,” he replies smoothly, his voice carrying a hint of approval. “Marriage is a sacred bond, a union of souls entwined in the dance of life. Cherish each moment, for they are but fleeting whispers in the grand symphony of existence.”

You find yourself nodding along, caught in the hypnotic rhythm of his words. Despite the lingering unease at the back of your mind, there’s a strange comfort in his eloquence, a sense of being understood in ways you can’t quite articulate.

Will’s grip on your knee tightens imperceptibly, a silent reassurance amidst the surreal atmosphere. You lean into his touch, seeking solace in the familiarity of his presence.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Will responds, his tone measured yet resolute. “Every moment with her is a gift, one I intend to cherish for as long as I live.”

There’s a brief pause, the air thick with unspoken tension as the three of you navigate the delicate intricacies of the conversation. Hannibal’s gaze drifts between you and Will, his expression inscrutable as he savors the moment.

“Indeed, Will,” he finally replies, his voice carrying a note of finality. “May your union be blessed with prosperity and joy.”

With that, the tension dissipates like wisps of smoke, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease that refuses to be ignored. You exchange a glance with Will, a silent acknowledgment of the peculiar exchange that just transpired.

As the evening wears on, you find yourself unable to shake the feeling that there’s more to Hannibal’s words than meets the eye. But for now, you push aside your doubts, choosing instead to revel in the warmth of Will’s presence by your side. After all, in a world as unpredictable as this, perhaps love is the only certainty you can hold onto.

“You’re not married yourself, Dr. Lecter?”

“Please, I insist you call me Hannibal,” he says, his voice smooth and inviting, with just a hint of warmth that belies the intensity of his gaze. Hannibal’s eyes linger on you for a moment before he responds, his lips curling into a small, enigmatic smile. “Marriage is a commitment I find myself hesitant to make,” he replies cryptically. “But who knows what the future may hold?”

There is something unsettling in the way he speaks, a hint of mystery that leaves you curious yet wary. You can’t quite decipher his intentions, but you know better than to underestimate him. With a polite nod, you let the conversation drift to safer shores, leaving the question of Hannibal’s marital status hanging in the air like an unspoken riddle.

“I haven’t seen you around here much,” Hannibal admits, his tone tinged with curiosity. “It’s rather peculiar, considering your presence in our circle has become quite pronounced as of late.” He leans back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, as if trying to unravel the mystery that surrounds you. “One would think you’d be a more regular fixture in our gatherings, given your... unique talents.”

You feel another ripple of unease at Hannibal’s words, his penetrating gaze seeming to dissect your very being. “I suppose life has a way of pulling us in unexpected directions,” you respond carefully, choosing your words with caution. “But I assure you, I’m always grateful for the opportunity to be among such esteemed company.”

There’s a subtle tension in the air as Hannibal considers your response, his expression inscrutable. You can’t shake the feeling that he sees more than he lets on, that beneath his polished exterior lies a mind sharp enough to unravel even the deepest secrets. But for now, you keep your guard up, knowing that in the game of wits that Hannibal plays, every word is a move in a dangerous dance.

Will’s voice carries a weight of finality, a hint of steel beneath the surface. “My wife went through witness protection, Hannibal,” he states firmly. “There’s not much more you need to know.” He doesn’t offer any further explanation, his words hanging in the air like an unspoken boundary. Although it isn’t his story to tell, you trust in the purpose of his words.

Hannibal’s gaze shifts from you to Will, a flicker of interest dancing in his eyes at the mention of witness protection program. “Ah, a tale of secrecy and intrigue,” he murmurs, his voice carrying a note of curiosity. “One can only imagine the depths of the secrets hidden within such a narrative.”

You sense the tension between Will and Hannibal, a silent clash of wills veiled beneath polite conversation. But you also recognize the underlying respect that binds them, a mutual understanding born from years of shared history and unspoken alliances.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Hannibal inclines his head slightly. “Of course, Will,” he replies smoothly. “Some stories are best left untold.”

And with that, the conversation shifts, the unspoken boundaries serving as a silent reminder of the delicate balance that exists between them. You exchange a glance with Will, a silent reassurance amidst the swirling currents of uncertainty. In a world as unpredictable as theirs, trust was a rare commodity, one that you cherished above all else.

Hannibal’s question is delivered with a hint of intrigue, his gaze steady as it meets yours. “Have you ever played chess, my dear?” he inquires, the corners of his lips curving into a faint smile, as though he already knows the answer.

A small smile plays at the corners of your lips as you meet Hannibal’s gaze, recognizing the underlying challenge in his question. “I have,” you reply evenly, your own gaze steady as it meets his. “Though I suspect the game you’re referring to is far more complex than any ordinary match.”

There’s a silent understanding that passes between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the intricate dance you’ve been engaged in since the moment you met. In the game of cat and mouse that defines your relationship, every move is calculated, every word a carefully crafted gambit.

Hannibal’s smile widens slightly at your response, a glimmer of satisfaction dancing in his eyes. “Indeed, my dear,” he murmurs, his tone laden with meaning.

With a subtle nod, you accept the challenge, knowing that in the web of manipulation and deception that defines your world, victory is never guaranteed. But as long as you have Will, you’re willing to play the game, one move at a time.

“Let’s play, then, shall we?” you suggests, your tone smooth and inviting, betraying none of the underlying tension in the air.

A spark of determination in your eyes as he reaches for the chessboard, setting up the pieces with practiced precision. Hannibal watches you silently, his gaze intent as he waits for you to make the first move.

“I will play as black,” you declare, settling onto the carpet opposite him. Your focus and concentration sharpen as you prepare for the match, moving the pieces into position.

Hannibal’s lips curl into a subtle smile at your declaration, his gaze never leaving yours as you make your move. With a graceful flick of his wrist, he responds in kind, the pieces gliding across the board with effortless precision.

As the game unfolds, you can sense the tension in the air thickening, each move a carefully calculated gambit. But amidst the intensity of the match, you steal a glance at Will, noting the flicker of concern in his eyes as he watches from the sidelines.

You offer him a reassuring smile, a silent promise that you’ll tread carefully, mindful of the risks that come with playing such a dangerous game. And as the match continues, you find yourself drawn deeper into the challenge, your mind racing to anticipate Hannibal’s next move, even as you remain acutely aware of the ever-present danger lurking just beneath the surface.

“Have you ever played professionally?” Hannibal inquires, his tone carrying a hint of curiosity as he observes your movements on the chessboard. He leans back comfortably in his chair, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, as if he already knows the answer but wants to hear the response from your lips alone.

A small chuckle escapes your lips at Hannibal’s question, the sound tinged with a hint of amusement. “No, never professionally,” you reply, your tone casual yet spiced with a touch of self-deprecation. “Just the occasional game here and there.”

Hannibal’s smile widens ever so slightly at your response, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of intrigue and admiration. “Ah, but I suspect you possess a talent for the game that goes far beyond mere hobby,” he remarks. “After all, true skill cannot be taught—it must be cultivated through experience and intuition.”

You nod, acknowledging his observation. “Indeed, there’s much truth to that,” you reply, feeling a surge of confidence as you settle into the game. As the pieces move across the board, you find yourself drawn into the strategic dance of chess, each move calculated and deliberate. Hannibal proves to be a formidable opponent, his moves precise and calculated, but you hold your own, matching him move for move.

Watching from the sidelines, Will is now more curious than tense. He has played chess with you on more than one occasion. You’ve never lost before, and he’s sure you won’t lose now either.

“You seem to have already predicted the outcome, Will. Is that correct?” the psychiatrist asks, taking a slow sip of his wine.

“I’ve seen her play before,” he chuckles, amused, and you respond with a playful wink directed his way. “She never loses.”

The pieces continue to move, and as expected, neither of you is willing to concede even the slightest inch of ground. The intensity of the game increases with each move, the outcome still uncertain. You are aware of Will observing you, his focus divided between the game and Hannibal’s reactions. There is an unmistakable look of wariness in the psychiatrist’s eyes, as if he’s not entirely convinced of his ability to outplay you. You cannot help but feel a little smug, enjoying the satisfaction of proving your skill to a man as intelligent as Dr. Lecter.

Despite the intensity of the match, there’s a sense of camaraderie between you and Hannibal, a mutual respect for each other’s skill and intellect. As the game reaches its climax, you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, the thrill of competition and the challenge of outsmarting your opponent.

In the end, it’s a close match, but you emerge victorious, your final move sealing Hannibal’s fate. As the pieces are cleared from the board, there’s a sense of satisfaction that washes over you, a feeling of accomplishment at having bested such a formidable opponent. You exchange a knowing glance with Hannibal, a silent acknowledgment of the intense battle that has just taken place.

“Well played,” Hannibal says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “You have a talent for the game that is truly impressive.”

You smile, feeling a sense of pride at his words. “Thank you,” you reply, the thrill of victory still coursing through your veins. “It was an honor to play against you.”

“We should do this again sometime,” Hannibal suggests, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he observes your satisfied expression, his approval the icing on the cake.

With a warm smile, you turn to Hannibal and nod your head, the lingering tension seemingly dissipated. “I would like that,” you declare confidently, willing to play another round whenever he requests.

After all, with the game between you two so evenly matched, you cannot deny the appeal of another round. Will appears to share your sentiment, his gaze lingering on you in a way that speaks volumes of his admiration and approval.

Just one round of chess led you to entertain the notion that you might stand a chance against Hannibal Lecter in real life. However, a whisper in the back of your mind countered, suggesting it was merely a delusion fueled by the psychiatrist himself, designed to give you a false sense of hope where none truly existed.

He might be more clever than I thought—the doubt lingers like a shadow in your mind. You wonder if this was the psychiatrist’s plan all along, to lure you into a false sense of security through a friendly game of chess.

“Never doubt her,” Will replies with a playful grin. “She’s an impressive strategist, one who has yet to be beaten.” With a gentle caress to your arm, he reassures you, and himself, that you will indeed come out victorious.

“There was not a doubt in my mind about that, not even for a second, Will.”

There was nothing but love evident in your eyes when they locked with Will’s. Hannibal noticed it with ease, glancing between the two of you with a quirk of his lips.

The room suddenly feels suffocating, the air thick with uncertainty and a lingering sense of danger. Will’s touch, once comforting, now sends a chill down your spine as you struggle to make sense of the surreal scene unfolding before you. Hannibal’s presence, though seemingly benign, carries an ominous weight that you can’t shake off.

“How did you enjoy our first dance, darling?” the voice echoes in your head, lingering like a sweet melody that refuses to fade away.

As you try to piece together the fragments of reality, a wave of dizziness washes over you, leaving you disoriented and vulnerable. You glance around the room, searching for any sign of familiarity, but everything seems distorted, like a painting skewed by the artist’s hand.

“I think you’ve enjoyed it a little too much.”

With a sinking feeling in your chest, you realize that you’re trapped in a twisted game, unsure of how to escape. As the seconds tick by, the boundaries between truth and illusion blur, leaving you at the mercy of forces beyond your control.

You steal a glance at Will, hoping for some reassurance or recognition of the bizarre situation, but his expression remains unchanged. His focus is elsewhere, lost in thought or perhaps intentionally avoiding the unsettling atmosphere that permeates the room.

Uncertainty gnaws at you, prompting a surge of panic as you grapple with the realization that you’re alone in this unsettling reality. Should you confront Will, hoping to shake him from his oblivious state, or play along, concealing your growing unease to maintain the fragile facade of normalcy?

As you weigh your options, a voice echoes in the recesses of your mind, urging caution and vigilance in the face of the unknown. But with each passing moment, the boundaries between reality and illusion blur further, leaving you teetering on the edge of a precipice with no clear path forward.

That voice is familiar, but fortunately doesn’t belong to Hannibal. Despite its familiarity, you have no idea to whom it belongs.

Straining to focus, you lean into the faint whispers echoing in your mind, determined to unravel the cryptic message hidden within. With each successive effort, the murmurs grow louder, their cadence taking on a rhythm that hints at a deeper meaning waiting to be deciphered.

Closing your eyes, you concentrate all your senses on the elusive words, willing them to coalesce into clarity. And then, like a veil lifting, the message emerges, stark and unmistakable, cutting through the haze of confusion with startling clarity.

“He’s close, but you can figure him out faster,” the voice declares, its resonance reverberating through your consciousness like a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. With newfound resolve, you cling to the mantra, drawing strength from the assurance that you are not powerless in the face of uncertainty.

Armed with this newfound clarity, you steel yourself against the unseen forces at play, ready to confront the shadows lurking in the depths of your mind and the eerie tableau unfolding before you. However, it soon becomes clear that those words were far from comforting; they were a chilling premonition, a harbinger of ominous events to come.

You blink once more, and suddenly, there’s someone standing directly in front of you.

The figure before you possesses a humanoid form, its skin as dark as pitch, and its eyes devoid of any discernible color. Its bony posture accentuates each rib, sharply defined against its frame. Its hands, adorned with claws resembling elongated arms, and a formidable set of antlers protrudes from its skull, etched deeply into its visage. Your breath catches in your throat.

A surge of primal fear courses through your veins as you confront the enigmatic figure before you, its presence suffusing the room with an otherworldly aura that leaves you trembling in its wake. Every instinct screams at you to flee, to escape the grasp of this unearthly entity that defies comprehension.

Yet, amidst the terror that threatens to consume you, a flicker of recognition ignites within your mind, a fleeting glimpse of familiarity buried deep within the recesses of your consciousness. Could this spectral apparition hold the key to unlocking the mysteries that shroud your reality in shadows?

Summoning all your courage, you square your shoulders and meet the creature’s gaze head-on, steeling yourself against the overwhelming sense of dread that threatens to drown you. With each passing moment, the boundaries between fear and fascination blur, as you find yourself drawn into a realm where the line between nightmare and revelation becomes increasingly thin.

As you extend your hand tentatively, the figure flickers, momentarily morphing into a semblance of Hannibal Lecter. A shiver runs down your spine, leaving you questioning the boundaries between reality and illusion once again.

Your hand hovers in mid-air, suspended between the instinct to recoil and the curiosity that compels you to seek understanding. The figure’s transformation sends a ripple of unease cascading through your senses, casting doubt on the very fabric of your perception.

Hannibal’s visage, though fleeting, lingers in your mind’s eye, a haunting reminder of the intricate web of deceit and manipulation that surrounds you. The line between truth and deception blurs further, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty with no anchor to guide you.

As you wrestle with the implications of this surreal encounter, a whisper of doubt creeps into your consciousness, planting seeds of mistrust that threaten to unravel the fragile tapestry of your reality. With each passing moment, the shadows deepen, obscuring the path forward and leaving you stranded in a realm where nothing is as it seems.

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