Evernight Dream
It was strange to see them after so long.
Her parents.
They hadn't changed, Abigail noted.
Hannibal was still the peacock soaking up attention in his elegant paisley suit and quiet superiority. With every sleek socialite, he was a master at work. The entire room was orbiting him in some way; next to him or wanting to get close to him.
Craning their necks to hear his every comment.
To them being near him was like being near God.
It was something Abigail understood all too well. The draw to be next to him, to light up every time he acknowledged her and to strive every day just to get his nod of approval.
That need had never left her.
Abigail tore her gaze quickly away from Hannibal and turned to Wilhelmina; far less ostentatious but just as deadly.
Wilhelmina was standing next to Hannibal, poised and unassuming in her long black gown like she had been for centuries. She was talking to a man that looked entranced by her attention, but he was a feeble imitation of Hannibal. Without a word or gesture, they gravitated around each other in constant motion, in their secret dance of the ages.
You never saw it unless you knew what to look for and Abigail had spent decades watching them.
They were never more than a step apart, Hannibal always brushing a hand against her at some point. Once Abigail had thought it was an act of love, but now she knew it for an act of ownership. Wilhelmina was as much a part of Hannibal as his heart and lungs were; she was a part of him outside his body, and he was ever loathed to expose her to those he deemed unworthy.
Wilhelmina gave no notice to Hannibal, and with a gentle smile, she easily beguiled all the people around her with uncanny understanding.
The desire to be understood was universal, and each shallow, pompous socialite would court their own death for the chance to be known by her.
None ever realised that death was Wilhelmina's payment.
Abigail stood in her quiet corner and watched for the exact moment they deigned to notice her. It was subtle, Hannibal's eyes merely flicked over her before continuing on.
It took more than an hour before they spoke to her.
It was Wilhelmina that came to her; always the more forgiving. Her mothering instincts were a deep part of her and were a weakness; only Hannibal was allowed to exploit her.
She had changed in the time since Abigail had last seen her. Her long black curls hung to her waist in elaborate waves, and her skin had paled to a bone white. Before, Wilhelmina had enjoyed venturing out in the day, and always had a rosy glow about her. Now she was as stark and untouchable as a statue.
She must be wanting to conserve her strength, thought Abigail, as she stepped towards her.
Even now Abigail caught her breath at Wilhelmina's beauty. She had the sort of grace that could hypnotise a room if she wanted it to, but she was content to leave the spotlight and scrutiny to Hannibal; one of their many acts of love to each other.
Abigail stood up straighter as Wilhelmina approached her. While Abigail towered over her in height, she felt small in her presence. Wilhelmina radiated a power that Abigail would never match.
"Abigail, have you been here long," Wilhelmina asked, her voice soft and sharp.
She nodded, wetting her lips. "A little while, yes."
Since 1730
Wilhelmina smiled, showing off her razor blade teeth but her eyes were warmer. Abigail felt herself relax a fraction.
As if sensing that, Wilhelmina pulled Abigail with surprising strength down for a kiss on the cheek, "I look forward to seeing you."
Abigail felt the breath leave her.
After all this time.
She looked past Wilhelmina to Hannibal, and he gave her a curt nod, as he beckoned Wilhelmina back to his side.
Abigail nodded jerkily back, as Wilhelmina glided back to Hannibal's arm, his ever obedient wife.
Abigail's knees were weak as she hastily ran to the restroom.
She caught the eye of a handsome young man watching her intently, but he quickly looked away as she hurried past.
As soon she slammed the door of the restroom, she took a deep shuddering breath.
All her years here have paid off.
She had stayed and earned forgiveness for her part with Garret.
At last that ugliness was behind her.
But why are they back?
Abigail had thought she would be here for at least half a millennia, why did they forgive her so soon?
Why were they here?
Catching her reflection in the mirror, it occurred to Abigail that Wilhelmina must want to breed.
Baltimore would be the site of their next nest; the playground of the future prince.
She shivered, suddenly feeling cold. The princes were always fearsome, with built-in cruelty that could only be bred in. Hannibal had always enjoyed moulding his offspring.
Under Hannibal's tutelage, the young prince would be a terror on history and all would despair in the process.
She swallowed and rubbed her hands over her face.
No doubt Vladimir would return, and he would be eager to help raise another Impaler brother.
Her chest felt tight, and she pushed herself out of the bathroom, to get away from that evil thought.
And she crashed into the chest of that handsome man.
His scent hit her immediately.
Brother.
"So you're the one they grounded," he said, his voice rough as he untangled himself from her.
She was on her on guard; there was a coldness to him that raised her hackles.
"Who might you be," she said, trying to keep the venom from her voice.
His lips tightened, "Francis Dolerhyde."
She took a gamble.
"Met in Hannibal patient room."
A muscle went at his jaw, and his eyes narrowed.
She knew Hannibal would like psychiatry as soon as the field gained momentum. It was typical of him; he was the ultimate manipulator and would glory in power.
The grand entrance room was emptying rapidly; the opera had started, and everyone was beginning to move into the concert hall.
Abigail smirked, and she moved to brush past Francis.
He stopped her with a hand to the arm.
His fangs were bared and elongated, "you do anything to hurt them, and I will rip you open."
She bit back a snarky retort.
The look in his eyes told her he was deadly serious. He had done it before.
He was a loyal dog
Wilhelmina loved dogs.
She violently shrugged his arm off, "I've never stopped loving them, and I've loved them longer than you."
He nodded, and they silently walked into the theatre. Two lost children returning to their parents.