Chapter Text
The evening had got off to such a promising start. A charitable gala boasting Florence’s wealthy elite, each vying to patronise whichever good cause was currently a la mode. The food was divine, the champagne expensive, and the fashion decadent and beautiful. The band regaled the crowd with classical pieces which they danced to late into the evening, between glasses of champagne and polite conversation.
The atmosphere was electrifying and the event utterly sublime, and as Hannibal led her round the room in a perfectly executed waltz, Bedelia felt her heart soar. Hannibal had just learned that he had been awarded the curatorship which he had applied for, a prestigious position which solidified their social standing and the acceptance of it into Florentine society; it was beginning to feel as though there was a place for them in this world after all. All of her reservations and fears about having abandoned the sanctuary of her previous life and identity disappeared entirely, as she was guided through the crowds by Hannibal, who could not take his eyes off her. Even the tightness of her bespoke black and gold Versace gown could not inhibit her movements not her mood; that evening was the first time in a long time that Bedelia felt completely free.
Hannibal had dipped her at the end of the Waltz, the movement fast though not completely unanticipated. As he drew her quickly into his arms once more, she felt a sudden rush of blood to her head, and a curious feeling of breathlessness. She suddenly felt very hot and unsteady, and she found herself gripping his right bicep tighter for support. Hannibal placed his hand upon her lower back and drew her closer instinctively, a look of concern in his marble eyes, as she offered him a small smile. She had been about to make a light remark about having too much champagne when Professor Sogliato and his entourage approached, and provided a distraction which quickly turned from welcome to tiresome. And, unbeknownst to them, fatal.
Although the Professor had been the one to earn Bedelia’s irritation for his petty and almost childish attempt at humiliating Hannibal in front of their colleagues; Bedelia found this tasteless and unnecessary as well as thoroughly unprofessional, though she did not hold the Professor solely responsible. Hannibal rose to the bait in a way which irked her, and no amount of her warning glares would dissuade him, despite the fact that he was clearly aware of her displeasure. She had even resorted to offering the tiresome professor a dance, which had almost worked, until he threw a retort at Hannibal which he apparently could not resist. If he knew how Hannibal dealt with such acts of rudeness, perhaps he would have tried harder.
After what felt like an eternity, the combination of Hannibal’s acceptance of the professor’s challenge to lecture on Dante, who he had quoted perfectly in front of the visibly impressed academics, the matter seemed to have been resolved. For the moment, at least.
But as Hannibal and Bedelia wove their way through the lessening crowds and made their goodbyes, she felt a familiar feeling of sickness and dread; the conflict between Hannibal and the professor could lead to the death of the latter, which would attract attention. And any attention was far too much.
“I’ve killed hardly anybody during our residence” Hannibal had argued once they’d returned to the sanctity of their apartment. Bedelia glared at him and suppressed a sigh. It was hardly the reassuring response she had hoped for. And the conversation that followed did little to comfort her. Nor did the dizziness she was experiencing once more. She was considering how much champagne she had consumed when he spoke again. “Morality does not exist, only morale” proclaimed Hannibal. And hers was plummeting.
They spoke for a while longer, before the combination of the tightness of her dress and the frustrating conversation subject – which Hannibal did not seem to be taking seriously – caused her to long for refuge in her favourite room within the apartment.
Hannibal helped her with her dress, which she eased herself out of with relief, before running herself a hot bath and closing the door firmly behind her. She perched on the edge of the tub, closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. Peace.
The bath was ready ten minutes later, and Bedelia slowly eased herself into the welcoming waters. The combination of the bewitching scent of the jasmine and honeysuckle bath salts and the sound of music from the parlour caused Bedelia to begin to relax once more, closing her eyes and leaning back into the water’s embrace. After fifteen minutes, an exhausted Bedelia fell into a light sleep, and slipped down beneath the water.
Bedelia felt weightless and light, and overcome with a feeling of almost total calm, as though she were floating. The water was cleansing and comforting, a balm for her body and mind, the former which ached from dancing and the latter from running. For the second time that evening, she felt completely calm and relaxed, and free.
However, within moments of her head disappearing beneath the water, Bedelia was startled from her calmness and the cusp of slumber by a sharp pain in her lower abdomen, which caused her to open her eyes immediately, pushing herself up from the comforting depths of the water. She gasped for air, her mind ablaze with confusion and fear, the pain in her belly paralyzing her and overwhelming her ability to think logically, or indeed at all. Bedelia placed her right hand instinctively on her belly, whilst gripping the edge of the gold-plated tub with her left hand, as she continued to exhale breathlessly.
The sharp pain disappeared as quickly as it came, and for a moment she wondered whether she had imagined it. Her breathing stabilised and she took a calming breath, trying to ignore her heightened nerves and wariness, and her mind’s demands that she acknowledge something was wrong. She was just considering whether to get out of the tub and abandon her bath altogether, when she was struck with a strong, cramping pain across the base of her abdomen, which caused her to gasp and grip the edge of the tub so tightly her knuckles whitened. Bedelia closed her eyes tightly and gripped her belly, leaning forward slightly and attempting to breathe through her discomfort, the sound of music from the other room providing an almost offensive backdrop to her agony.
The pain finally subsided after several seconds, but Bedelia found her relief short-lived, as she experienced a strange sensation of warm liquid between her legs, something warm and fast and thicker than water. Bedelia inhaled a shaky breath and looked down, the cloudy waters concealing what was beneath. Ignoring the persistent dull ache which was once more spreading across her lower abdomen, Bedelia removed her right hand from her belly and placed it between her legs, before lifting it above the waterline and gazing at it with confusion.
Her fingers were stained with blood.
Bedelia frowned in confusion and stared at her fingers, as she attempted to suppress the panic which she could feel rising within her. Her mind immediately presented an explanation which caused her stomach to drop and fear to clutch her heart in a vice-like grip.
No, Bedelia thought, as her heart began to race in her chest, the ache in her belly growing stronger. No, I can’t be, she told herself. It’s not possible.
Bedelia placed her hand beneath the water and cleaned off the blood, before placing both hands on the edge of the bath and rising defiantly. Her legs were shaky and her belly hurt, and as she looked down she saw the blood which had stained her inner thighs be washed away by the bathwater. She clenched her jaw and winced in discomfort as she stepped out of the tub and onto the cold floor.
The sound of disturbed water melded with the music in the next room, and as Bedelia reached for a towel and wrapped it around herself with trembling hands, she found herself turning instinctively towards the locked door.
Even in her pained and panicked state she found herself thinking logically enough to realise that making Hannibal aware of her concerns was not an idea she could entertain. And yet, as held the towel to her and clutched her belly, warm liquid which she hoped was simply water falling from her body, she found herself turning instinctively towards the door.
The moment, it seemed, was too fast and too sudden, and for the second time that evening she found herself overcome with dizziness once more. The pain and dizziness combined caused her to sway slightly, dark spots appearing in her vision, as she stared at a door which was entirely too far away. She could hear the familiar sound of the harpsichord in the rooms beyond, where she knew he would be.
“Hannibal” Bedelia whispered breathlessly, reaching for a nearby table for balance as she took an unsteady step forwards in a desperate attempt to reach the door.
She was about to call out to him, louder this time, when the pain and the dizziness overcame her completely, and she found herself falling forwards, as weightlessly as she had been whilst beneath the water. Bedelia lost consciousness as she fell, her vision turning dark and her body completely limp, the side of her head striking the edge of the table, as she fell to the ground with a dull thump.