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cece693 · 3 days ago

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Velvet Ring Pt. 3 (Hannibal Lecter x M! Reader)

Sorry for the short hiatus, but life comes first :) I have read your comments and delivered part three of Velvet Ring. Many say this should be a full-length novel, so I'm considering going to Ao3 and posting it there. More info to come, but I hope you enjoy it!

link to part one and part two

The months that followed your departure were a slow descent into madness for Hannibal, a feverish chase that consumed him with a depth he hadn’t known was possible. He had no doubt you were alive—he would have felt it otherwise, sensed the hollow ache in his soul if you had truly been lost. Yet, no matter how many leads he pursued, no matter the lengths he went to, you remained elusive, slipping from his grasp like water.

He contacted private investigators, each more skilled than the last, paying them handsome sums for information that ultimately led nowhere. Hannibal monitored hospitals, social service records, border crossings, tracking every lead that might hint at your presence, yet all he found was emptiness. His health took a toll—his once sturdy frame became thin, his skin turning sickly pale due to the lack of sunlight as the man feverously searched through papers. But his nights were the worst of it.

Sleep, once a rare respite, became his most unforgiving tormentor, an unbidden invitation into his memory palace, where every hall and chamber held your presence. In every room, you were there, waiting with that quiet intensity he could never forget, your gaze piercing him with unspoken questions. He would step forward, his hands trembling as he reached out.

"Please," Hannibal whispered, his voice breaking in a way it never did in the waking world. "Please, come back to me." And each time he reached for you, tried to bridge the impossible chasm he had created, he would awaken, gasping and cold, his hand outstretched to empty air, the harsh reality a cruel slap in the face. He knew he would never find peace, not without you. His life, his plans, his ambition—all of it was hollow now, stripped of all meaning.

But then, after months of nothing but anguish and shadows, he heard a whisper—a sighting in a small, secluded town, someone matching your description. It was faint, the kind of rumor easily dismissed as coincidence by anyone else. But Hannibal clung to it with an iron grip, the flicker of hope it rekindled blazing into a fire within him. Without hesitation, he set out, leaving no time to rest, crossing miles with a singular determination to find you.

Hannibal arrived at dusk, the air heavy and cool, exhaustion tugging at his every step, but a fierce anticipation overriding all else. He scanned the cobblestone streets, his gaze sharp and hungry, studying every face. Just as his hope began to waver, there you were—across the street, holding a small bag, engaged in conversation.

Hannibal’s heart seized as his eyes locked onto you, his breath catching at the sight of you after so long. But then, his gaze drifted to the woman beside you, her hand resting lightly on your arm as she leaned in, laughing softly at something you said. Something primal stirred within him, a dark flame fanned by jealousy, possessiveness, and the betrayal he felt as he watched you sharing even a fragment of your life with another.

Without hesitation, he crossed the cobblestone street, his steps unyielding, his gaze fixed intently on you. As he approached, the woman looked up, startled, and her grip on you tightened as she registered the intensity in his eyes. His face remained composed, but there was an edge to his expression, a darkness that radiated in the tight line of his jaw, the way his gaze lingered just a moment too long on her hand resting on your arm.

"M/N,” he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet intensity that was both familiar and unsettling. The way he said it—both a question and an accusation—made you freeze, your eyes widening as they locked onto him. Hannibal took in sick delight at the way you removed the woman's hold on your arm, a unconscious sign that you did something wrong and knew it.

Turning to the woman, Hannibal smiled, cold and unyielding. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, his tone dripping with a courtesy that felt more like a threat than an introduction. "I'm Hannibal Lecter, and who might you be?"

She cleared her throat, her unease evident. “I'm Anna. Pietro's friend." Her voice was unsteady, unsure of how to respond to the quiet menace in his gaze. Hannibal didn't care that you had created a fake identity, the moniker friend, being of more importance. There was ambiguity in it—a loose, undefined boundary that could mean anything or nothing at all. The lack of clarity fanned the flame of his resentment, and he relished the discomfort that flashed in Anna’s eyes as his stare intensified.

"A friend,” he repeated, his voice soft but edged with subtle derision. His gaze flicked over her with a dispassionate coldness before returning to you. “I wasn’t aware Pietro had developed such… casual acquaintances during his time away.” His tone held a faint sneer, and he continued, turning back to her with a faint smile. “Tell me, Anna, how long have you been acquainted with him?”

Anna’s gaze darted nervously between you and Hannibal, the weight of his intense scrutiny pressing down on her. “Just a few weeks,” she replied, voice faltering slightly under his sharp gaze.

"Wonderful,” Hannibal murmured, his smile tightening, “then I assume he’ll be quick to abandon you in favor of company more suited to his needs. Pietro has a habit of seeking company that doesn’t benefit him—shallow, fleeting connections, if you will.” His words were like barbed silk, each one crafted to cut deeper.

“Hannibal!” you interjected sharply, your tone stern, your eyes flashing with a mix of anger and frustration. You took a step forward, trying to draw his attention away from Anna, who looked close to tears.

Hannibal’s gaze shifted back to you, a faint glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “My apologies,” he said softly, his voice dangerously smooth, “I merely assumed that you’d be accustomed to my honesty by now.”

You clenched your jaw, leveling him with a glare. “Your honesty is cruelty, Hannibal,” you said firmly. “And I don’t appreciate you taking your issues out on someone who has nothing to do with this.” Hannibal seethed, watching as you turned your gaze back unto that pig leaning into her ear, whispering something unintelligible. His hands clenched at his sides, his entire posture radiating a barely restrained fury.

“Anna has nothing to do with this, Hannibal,” you said firmly, once the wretched pig had left. “I won’t stand here and let you humiliate her just because she's been kind during my stay here."

“Humiliate?” Hannibal repeated, his voice cold and dripping with disdain. “The only humiliation here is watching you pretend this… distraction somehow compensates for what you left behind. But if that’s the kind of company you now keep, perhaps I overestimated your standards as well.”

You narrowed your eyes, anger flaring. “That’s enough,” you warned, stepping forward. “I didn’t ask you to come here, and I certainly didn’t ask for your opinions on my choices.”

Hannibal scoffed, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “Your choices?” he echoed, his voice rising, each word dripping with venom. “They weren’t just your choices. They were ours. When you abandoned me without a word, as if what we had was disposable, your choice became mine.”

For a brief moment, his gaze softened, the fury and bitterness fading to reveal something raw, something painfully human. His face transformed, stripped of the cold, unshakable control he had always exuded—even as children, when he had towered over others with a quiet, invincible strength. It was as if a mask had fallen away, and you saw, perhaps for the first time, that beneath his formidable presence, Hannibal was vulnerable and, terrifyingly, capable of being hurt.

Hannibal’s voice softened, a glimmer of both sorrow and fierce determination in his eyes as he gently brushed his thumb along your cheek. “But I forgive you,” he murmured, his words filled with tenderness. “But tell me this: why didn’t you tell me Lady Murasaki and Robert treated you horribly? I would have put an end to their horrid behavior if I’d known.”

The weight of his forgiveness, his readiness to overlook the pain of your absence, only made the guilt settle deeper in your chest. You took a shaky breath, looking down as the words you’d hidden so carefully finally began to spill out. “I thought…I thought I was protecting you,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “They’re your family, Hannibal. I didn’t want to be the reason you fought with them. And a part of me was scared. That if you spoke with them, you'll realize that they were right. That I was undeserving of you."

Hannibal’s face darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes as he took in your words, his jaw clenching. He felt a rush of anger swell within him, barely tempered by the knowledge that Robert and Lady Murasaki—those who had dared to make you feel so small, so undeserving—had already been dealt with. Even so, a bitter regret simmered beneath his composure, a twisted satisfaction tainted by the thought that he could have made their ends far more painful, a true testament to the suffering they had inflicted on you.

"That couldn’t be further from the truth, beloved." His hand moved to cup your face, his fingers warm against your skin as he tilted your chin, his gaze softening with an intensity that stole your breath. His voice, quiet yet filled with unwavering conviction, wrapped around you like a protective embrace.

“Don’t you see?” Hannibal continued, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your cheek. “Without you, my life would have been empty, hollow. They convinced you that you were an obstacle, something in the way of greatness, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. You are my anchor, the one who kept me grounded when everything else felt meaningless. My purpose.” His voice grew rough, carrying the weight of all he’d felt, all he’d kept buried.

Hannibal leaned closer, his forehead resting gently against yours, his voice softening. “They saw the depth of what we shared, and it frightened them. They knew I would choose you over anything they could offer, over any legacy or loyalty. And so, they made you believe you were unworthy, hoping to drive us apart.” He shook his head, the faintest hint of sorrow in his eyes. “But they were wrong. I am yours, and without you, I am nothing but a shadow.”

You felt the warmth of his words seeping into you, soothing the ache that their lies had left, dissolving the doubts that had plagued you for so long. His gaze held yours, his hand still cupping your face with a gentleness that belied his intensity. “Promise me,” he murmured, his voice almost pleading, “that you will never doubt your place beside me again. That you won't ever leave my side again.”

Your heart swelled, and with a trembling smile, you nodded, leaning into his touch. “I promise, Hannibal.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips, filled with both relief and the unspoken vow that no one would ever come between you again. “Then we begin anew,” he whispered, brushing his lips softly over your forehead. “Together, as it was always meant to be.”

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