Chapter Text
Will knows something is different.
At first, he tries to ignore it.
He tells himself that the strange heaviness in his body is simply the consequence of returning to life after centuries of being stone. His body is still learning how to breathe, how to sleep, how to hunger, how to exist.
But Will has been a god for far longer than he has been human.
He knows his own body.
He knows what it means when his senses become unusually sharp, when warmth settles beneath his skin, when his instincts become strangely protective of something he cannot yet see.
He is pregnant.
The realization comes quietly. There is no divine announcement. No dramatic sign from the heavens. Only certainty.
Will sits alone in Hannibal's library, one hand resting unconsciously over his stomach.
Does Hannibal know?
Will has watched him carefully for days. Hannibal has never mentioned it. He continues to bring Will food, books, clothes, flowers, everything he thinks Will might enjoy. He watches him with that familiar, almost frightening attentiveness.
But he never says anything about the child. Will wonders if Hannibal truly doesn't know. Or if he knows and is simply waiting for Will to tell him.
For now, Will says nothing.
The house is beautiful.
Too beautiful.
That is the problem.
Every room is warm. Every corner is safe. The garden is overflowing with flowers because of Will's presence. The fig tree produces more fruit than it should. Jasmine covers the walls. Roses bloom overnight.
Hannibal gives him everything he asks for.
And yet Will begins to feel restless.
One afternoon, he finds Hannibal in the kitchen.
"Hannibal."
The Alpha looks up immediately.
"Yes?"
"I want to go outside."
Hannibal pauses.
"You are outside."
Will glances toward the garden.
"I mean beyond the garden."
Hannibal's expression changes.
"No."
Will blinks.
"No?"
"You cannot go into the city."
"Why?"
"Because people will notice you."
Will frowns.
"They already notice me here."
"Not like they would there."
Hannibal puts down the knife in his hand.
"You don't know this world yet. You don't know how people behave. You don't know what they might do when they see someone like you."
"Someone like me?"
Hannibal hesitates.
"An Omega."
The word makes Will's expression tighten.
For centuries, his body had been treated as something sacred because people wanted something from it.
Fertility.
Children.
Blessings.
Marriage.
Submission.
He had been worshipped and controlled at the same time.
Now Hannibal wants to protect him.
Will understands that.
But understanding does not make the walls disappear.
"I don't want to be kept here."
"I am not keeping you here."
"It feels like it."
Hannibal goes silent.
Will looks away.
"I know you're trying to protect me."
"I am."
"But protection can become another cage."
The words hurt Hannibal more than Will intends. Will sees it. His expression softens, but he does not take the words back.
"I need to see the world," he says quietly. "Even if it frightens me."
Hannibal looks at him for a long moment.
Then he nods.
"We will talk about it."
But Will knows what that means.
Not today. Perhaps not tomorrow. That night, Will cannot sleep. He lies awake beneath the blankets, staring at the ceiling. His hand rests over his stomach again. He thinks about the child.
About the life growing inside him.
About the gods.
About Aphrodite.
About the statue.
About being beautiful enough to worship but never free enough to choose.
Then the room changes. The air becomes cold. Will sits upright. He knows this presence. He has felt it before.
The gods.
Their voices do not come from one place.
They seem to come from everywhere.
"You carry life."
Will's breath catches.
His hand moves instinctively to his stomach.
"Who are you?"
"You know us."
The voice is ancient.
"The child must be born."
Will swallows.
"Then let it be born."
"Life cannot be given freely when the vessel has not chosen freely."
Will's expression hardens.
"What does that mean?"
"You were turned to stone because others believed your body belonged to them."
The room seems to grow colder.
"And still, they decided your fate."
Will closes his eyes as he remembers. Hands touching him without permission. Voices telling him what he should want. People praising his body while treating it as something that existed for them.
Aphrodite's anger.
The curse.
Centuries of being unable to move. Unable to speak. Unable to choose.
"The child carries your blood," the gods say.
Will slowly opens his eyes.
His hand remains over his stomach.
"What do you want from me?"
Then the ancient voice answers.
"Nothing is born without a price."
Will's expression hardens.
"Of course."
"The child carries divine blood into the mortal world. Such a life cannot be brought forth without sacrifice."
"What sacrifice?"
"You must surrender what makes you eternal."
Will goes completely still. His breath catches.
"My immortality?"
"Yes."
The word echoes through the room.
Will looks down at his hands.
For centuries, eternity has been something he simply possesses. It is part of him, as natural as his breath, his divinity, his existence.
If he gives it up, he will become mortal. He will age. He will become vulnerable to illness, injury, and time.
One day, he will die.
But the child will live.
"The choice is yours," the gods continue. "Give up eternity, and the child may enter the world safely."
Will's fingers curl against the fabric of his clothes.
"And if I refuse?"
"The child may not survive the birth."
Will closes his eyes. For a moment, there is nothing but silence. Then he hears another voice.
Not the gods.
His own.
He thinks of Hannibal.
Of the quiet house.
The garden.
The warmth of Hannibal's hands.
The way he brings him figs because Will once mentioned them. The way he buys chocolate simply because Will likes it. The way he never touches him without permission. The way he looks at Will as though he is something precious, but never something owned.
Will opens his eyes.
"I will do it."
The gods say nothing.
"I will give up my immortality."
The air grows lighter.
"The sacrifice must be made willingly."
Will almost laughs.
"Of course it does."
He looks toward the window.
Moonlight spills across the garden.
"I have spent enough of my existence having things taken from me."
His hand moves over his stomach.
"This time, I choose what I give."
The divine presence slowly fades.
Will remains alone in the room.
For a while, he simply sits there.
Then he looks toward the door.
Hannibal.
He has to tell him.
---
Hannibal is in the dining room when Will finds him.
He is preparing dinner, his sleeves rolled up, his attention focused on the knife in his hand.
He looks up the moment Will enters.
"You are awake."
Will nods.
"I need to tell you something."
Hannibal immediately puts the knife down.
His expression changes.
"What is wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong."
"Then why do you look frightened?"
Will hesitates. He has faced gods. He has faced centuries of silence. He has faced the knowledge that he will one day become mortal.
And somehow, telling Hannibal feels harder.
He walks closer.
"Hannibal."
"Yes?"
"I am pregnant."
Everything stops. Hannibal doesn't move. For several seconds, he simply looks at Will. Then his eyes slowly lower to Will's stomach. When he looks back up, something in his expression has changed.
"Are you certain?"
Will nods.
"Yes."
Hannibal takes a slow breath.
"How long have you known?"
"Not long."
"And you were going to tell me?"
"I am telling you now."
Hannibal studies his face. He doesn't ask whether the child is his. There is no one else.
Will watches him carefully.
Then he asks the question that has been frightening him since the gods spoke.
"Do you want me to have the baby?"
Hannibal's expression immediately softens.
"Will."
"Answer me."
Hannibal steps closer.
"If you are asking whether I want this child..." He pauses. "Yes."
Will's eyes lower.
"But"
Hannibal notices the hesitation.
"There is a condition."
Hannibal's face becomes serious.
"What condition?"
Will takes a breath.
"The gods came to me."
Hannibal's eyes narrow.
"What did they say?"
"They said the child cannot be born safely unless I make a sacrifice."
"What sacrifice?"
Will looks directly at him.
"My immortality."
Hannibal goes completely still.
"You would become mortal."
"Yes."
"You would age."
"Yes."
"You would eventually die."
Will nods.
Hannibal's jaw tightens.
"And you are willing to do this?"
Will is quiet for a moment.
"I think I am."
Hannibal's answer comes immediately.
"No."
Will looks up.
His expression falters.
"No?"
"No."
Something painful crosses his face.
"You don't want the baby?"
Hannibal steps closer.
"That is not what I said."
"Then what do you mean?"
"I mean I do not want you to sacrifice yourself for me."
Will stares at him. Hannibal reaches for his hand but stops before touching it. He waits. Will slowly gives him his hand.
Hannibal closes his fingers around it.
"I want the child, Will."
His voice is quiet.
"But I want you more."
Will's eyes begin to fill with tears.
Hannibal continues.
"I will not ask you to surrender eternity because I want to be a father."
"But the gods—"
"Can demand whatever they wish."
His expression hardens.
"They do not get to decide what you owe the world."
Will looks down.
"But if I refuse, the child may not survive."
Hannibal's grip tightens slightly.
"Then we will find another way."
"There may not be another way."
Will looks at him. Hannibal brings Will's hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles.
"If you choose to give up eternity, I will accept your choice."
Will's breath catches.
"But I will never ask you to do it."
Silence settles between them.
Will looks at their joined hands.
"I spent centuries as stone because someone else decided what was best for me."
Hannibal says nothing.
"This time, I want to decide."
Hannibal nods.
"Then decide."
Will takes a shaky breath.
"I choose the child."
Hannibal closes his eyes for a moment.
"And I choose you."
Will looks up.
Hannibal's voice becomes softer.
"If you give up eternity, then whatever years you have left will be enough for me."
He lifts Will's hand again.
"I will spend every one of them making certain you never regret choosing them."
Will finally smiles through his tears.
"You really are strange."
Hannibal's mouth curves faintly.
"So you have told me."
Will moves closer and rests his forehead against Hannibal's. For a moment, neither of them speaks. Then Will glances down at their joined hands.
"So..."
Hannibal raises an eyebrow.
"So?"
"You really managed to father a child with a god."
There is the faintest pause.
"I did."
Will's smile grows.
"I suppose I should congratulate you."
"I would appreciate that."
"You must be very proud of yourself."
Hannibal gives him a dry look.
"I assure you, I had very little control over the divine circumstances."
Will laughs softly.
"Of course you didn't."
He places one hand over his stomach.
"Imagine telling people about this."
Hannibal looks at him.
"What would you tell them?"
Will considers it seriously.
"That an Alpha somehow managed to get a god pregnant."
Hannibal's expression becomes amused.
"Somehow?"
Will looks up at him with an innocent smile.
"I am simply impressed."
"By me?"
"By your determination."
Hannibal lets out a quiet laugh. Will's smile softens. Then he takes Hannibal's hand and slowly guides it toward his stomach. Hannibal immediately becomes still. His palm rests gently against Will's abdomen.
There is nothing to feel yet.
The child is still far too small.
But neither of them moves.
Hannibal looks down at his hand.
"Our child."
Will nods.
"Our child."
Hannibal's thumb moves gently across the fabric.
Will watches him for a moment before whispering,
"Do you think it will have your eyes?"
"Perhaps."
"Your nose?"
"I hope not."
Will laughs.
Hannibal looks up at him.
"And yours?"
Will smiles.
"Hopefully."
Hannibal's hand remains against his stomach.
Will covers it with his own.
For a few quiet seconds, the ancient god, the mortal Alpha, and the tiny life between them exist together beneath the moonlight.
Will looks down at their hands.
Then he smiles.
"Still," he murmurs, "I cannot believe you got a child out of a god."
Hannibal sighs.
"I was wondering how long it would take you to say that again."
Will laughs.
And this time, the sound fills the entire room.