#maydei

Guys, I’m so happy to share with you the artwork commissioned by @maydei 

It’s for their fic Making Headlines,  which is a reimagining of canonverse earlier in the lives of surgeon!Hannibal and genderfluid!Will c:

The view of Florence stretched beyond buildings to mountains that faded blue, seeming to evaporate into the sky. From elsewhere in the garden, a chorus of strings sang an aria. Will gulped his wine and tried to imagine the shallow valley before them empty of anything but the Arno.

“I can see why you love it.”

“You don’t love it yourself.”

“I suppose any love I have for it exists in me because you love it,” Will dared.

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Kellan stared out toward the woods laden with fresh snow. A chill bit at his nose and made him draw his cloak tighter around his body. Even with the lush fur lining he wasn't fully protected. His gloves were doing well enough, though they were becoming worn around their lovely stitching. Still, if he didn't leave the back garden he would be fine. Problem was that was something he wasn't sure he could do. In the gap between the high walls he found his eyes and his heart pulled toward the wilds. His stare lingered until the trees glowed in his vision, their ghosts burned behind his eyelids when he blinked.

The storms were never ending this winter. Every day they were buried further and further until not even the vanner horses could venture out. Wind did not find them, there was nothing to push the storm away. His father made him swear he would not leave their estate. It was too dangerous out there. Monsters would take him.

Even their grounds keeper Vanessa didn’t dare live in the carriage house at a time like this. She was invited to stay with the maids and other staff when the first snows fell. That was why Kellan was so close to just running out into the woods now. There was no one to stop him. Any who could see him would have to trudge through the fresh piles of snow nearly knee-deep and they would never get to him in time.

He looked back toward his home looming in the distance. Maybe he was cursed. Some witch visited when he was a baby, she cured him of a weak heart, but she probably cursed him in that same breath. A wicked and spiteful urge to never settle, to never be happy.

I couldn't resist the urge to draw Plisetsky with cat ears, so...

This is a fanart to @maydei‘s fic “Fated”