So, some of you asked for a continuation of Feast, with Wednesday meeting Hannibal. I was not sure about it, but then there was this spark and I started writing and voila! When I wrote Feast, I did not expect it to receive so much love, so thank you! I hope you'll enjoy this as well. You don't need to read the prequel in order to make sense of this.
English is not my native language, so there might be some mistakes.
All rights go to Charles Addams, Universal Pictures, Bryan Fuller, NBC, and everyone else involved.
Little Wednesday Addams absorbed all the information about Hannibal Lecter offered by her parents like a sponge. A very fascinated and intrigued sponge. She recalled everything that she had read about the cannibalistic killer simply known as the Chesapeake Ripper and could not help but wonder whether the doctor and the serial killer were actually the same person.
So, when the doctor sent another dinner invitation written in elaborate calligraphy to the Addams' residence, Wednesday felt a wave of excitement hit her. Each hand-written letter on the piece of expensive paper was a work of art, yet somehow Wednesday knew that this man was not desperate to impress. On the contrary, he was simply drawn to all beautiful things and created beauty himself.
"Well, Wednesday," her mother asked, "would you like to come?"
If Wednesday were that kind of child, she would be begging her mother to take her along, clutching at her long black dress and pouting like a spoiled brat. But she was not like that at all, so she merely nodded.
Morticia nodded as well, with the ghost of a smile on her beautiful, flawless face. "Very well, then. Best go to your room and find something to wear, dear."
If Wednesday were that kind of child, she would be jumping up and down and screaming in glee. Instead, she nodded once again, her black eyes gleaming.
Wednesday was unsurprisingly impressed. She had expected nothing less from a man who wrote his letters in such a style. Her parents had not spoiled everything, as the doctor had tried a different approach this time. Fruit and golden leaves decorated the long dining table, being too much but not offensive to the eye. Clearly the doctor did not believe in the 'less is more' strategy, and yet the too-much decoration managed to be awe-inspiring and look grand and drew the eye like the flame draws the moth.
That night they were dining on what was supposed to be Parmesan crumbled lambs' brains. Wednesday was not oblivious as to where the brains had actually come from, but she did not mind. She had eaten far weirder plates prepared by Grandma who liked to draw inspiration from cooking books and Gray's Anatomy. If anything, the food set before her was far more appetizing and aesthetically pleasing than anything she had found in her dish at home.
"I hope, doctor," Gomez Addams said, "that you will forgive us for being so few. My uncle and eldest son are off to some mischief again - the rascals - and Mama and Lurch have remained home to take care of baby Pubert."
"We have decided not to hire another nanny after the history with Debby," Morticia Addams asked and had a small and delicate bite of brain, humming appreciatively, making the upper corners of the doctor's lips turn up in a barely-there smile of satisfaction.
Truth be told, Wednesday was glad that the entire family could not attend Hannibal Lecter's dinner. She still hadn't come completely to terms with her baby brother's existence; and the fewer they were, the better she got to study their elegant host. Before her was a narcissistic man with a god complex, his facial expressions barely perceptible, his movements small, his entire appearance composed and contained. He reminded her of her mother, except Wednesday could tell that this man was constantly wearing a mask whereas her mother had been born with an icy beauty.
"I understand," the doctor said, ever so polite, "and of course you are forgiven. Besides, this way I get to know your family in small doses and pay my utmost attention to every new acquaintance."
He fixed his maroon eyes on Wednesday and lifted his wine glass, making a silent toast to her. Wednesday couldn't shake the feeling that the doctor knew exactly what she was thinking.
As the doctor was preparing their dessert - no doubt something that melted in the mouth and tasted heavenly - Wednesday Addams paid him a visit. She entered the kitchen with the grace of a cat and quiet as a snake, and yet he was aware of her presence somehow.
"Hello, Wednesday," he said calmly while pouring thick dark syrup, like blood, over the dessert.
"How can people be so foolish?" she wondered.
"What do you mean?" he asked, not taking his eyes off his task.
"Can't they see that you're faking everything?"
At the sound of those words, Hannibal stopped and looked at her. He didn't look nervous, which was to be expected of course. However, he didn't look just a little surprised either. He looked...amused. "Faking everything?"
"Yes. You just think about how you should act, and then you act accordingly. This is just a mask."
"I am wearing a very well tailored person suit, someone told me once," Hannibal agreed, looking quite amused. "I like that term better. It's more unique, more...me."
"Any psychopath like you would love to have a term invented just for them."
Hannibal smiled.
"You're the Chesapeake Ripper, aren't you?" Wednesday threw at him. She did not yet have enough evidence to support her claim, but somehow she was certain that it was the truth.
"You're a bright little thing, aren't you?" Hannibal felt the muscles on his aristocratic face stretch as his smile widened just a little bit. This girl was quite something, he had to admit. It was not a surprise, as she was an Addams - and Hannibal had done a very thorough research on this very interesting family, with its exciting history and charming characters - and, more especially, the very first fruit of the union between Morticia and Gomez. She was very much like her pale, mysterious, clever and extremely beautiful mother; nevertheless, she did not try to charm and please. She did what she wanted and spoke her mind. If Hannibal had not grown so fond of her parents, he might ensure that she became an orphan and his second daughter with Will - he had made a lot of progress with the young man, and poor Abigail would probably benefit from having a little sister. However, Wednesday would know - he was quite certain of that - and she would not forgive him. She would most likely plot his gory, gruesome death. He did not want things to get ugly.
Their eyes were locked, black and red, each studying and evaluating the other. Wednesday could not replace Mischa or be part of his murder family. Neither did she draw him to her like Will Graham so effortlessly did. However, Hannibal was fascinated. It seemed that he had made a new friend.