It had been hours since her last words.
Even with the constant moving and talking around the house, a deafening silence would take place at the first chance it could get.
A silent countess was completely disturbing. She looked more disturbing now than she ever did before, and she was the bride of a cannibal.
Clarice Starling Lecter, first of her name was still on her seat at the table. Her eyes wouldn't move away from the main course, it didn't matter how many times her children would leave or enter the room.
Not one of the three Lecter heirs had seen their mother cry. Not a single tear, only the strong and unchanging expression on her face. She looked cold like ice, hard like stone.
It happened during the night. Clarice rose from her bed and walked numbly into each of her children's room with a few words in her mouth.
"Your father is dead."
She hadn't spoken since them.
As soon as she said these words to her youngest child she fainted. Her second born, Jackson, caught her in time. Hannibal J. Lecter IX would never see his mother that weak again until she died.
Clarice woke up and nothing needed to be said, the three teenagers knew what to do, they were taught well.
At 6 o'clock, p.m., dinner was served.
Starling's eyes moved down to her plate, Hannibal IX, Hannah and Mischa quietly watched their mother. She might have trembled for a second, but no one would dare to point that out.
No one ate until Clarice had her first bite. The first one of her main course: heart. Her husband's. The one piece of Lecter that would forever belong to her.
No one questioned when she gave up on using the fork and the knife and took the heart on her hands, ate it like a sacrifice. No one mentioned the blood on her face that drew a mask on her chin to her nose. And while she ate his burning heart, the only thing left of her lover: Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter were the same.
Hannibal J. Lecter IX, Hannah Simonetta Lecter and Mischa Ardelia Lecter ate quietly that night, witnesses to the last reunion of their parents.