A/N: I had posted this up at deviantART back in August of 2012, I'm just reposting it here as well. This is from a cross-over story my friend Jay-Jack and I wrote on the Disney writing forum "Fantasmic." Chernabog pays Frollo a visit in his fireplace during Hellfire. It's considered a one-shot of how Frollo basically sold his soul to Satan in order to attempt a claim on Esmeralda for his own.
Jay-Jack wrote as Chernabog and I wrote as Frollo. Enjoy! ;)~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chernabog: The witching hour was at hand, and the creature that was Chernabog lashed out with a clawed talon, hooking three of his fiends and tearing them brutally asunder. To his amusement, the ragged strips of the souls immediately fused back together in the form of three harshly screaming harpies, which flew to Chernabog's horned skull and circled him, keeping ever mindful eyes on his fangs.
His attention, however, had been diverted, and with a great roar, he threw up his arms and began to wildly beckon more spirits to join his sickly nighttime festival. With his fingers groping at the inky, black air, Chernabog compelled the ancient riders to rise on their steeds once more, charging towards him in a cacophony of noise. The screaming of the souls drew another feral smile to his visage, and he waved his arms as a conductor might lead his final symphony.
With movements faster than his massive girth ought to allow, Chernabog plucked five souls from the infernal flames in which he sat, and began to compel them to change their form; he enticed the creatures to once more spawn flesh, and the twisted mockeries of life began to dance and crawl wickedly in his palm. Chernabog let out a deep, growling chuckle as they crawled over his clawed fingers, but his amusement was short-lived, and he quickly banished the fiends back to the Black Pit upon which he stood.
He wiled away his night in such a practice, and cast his menacing shadow over the village beneath him. His very presence spoke of the dead that were rising from their graves, and the devilish creatures that were lurking in the darkened streets. Three, tonight. Three mortals were entangled in Chernabog's evil spell and they had their souls stripped from their bodies for their gall. He made them into harpies, and enjoyed their hideous crowing.
Then...
The accursed Bell rang, and Chernabog released an almighty scream of anguish as the crippling Light struck him. His nefarious trickery was undone- the mortal souls returned to their bodies, and he leaned far away from the peal of the Angellus Bell, roaring again as it was struck again in time with the rising sun. He wrapped his great, leathery wings around himself with a crooning groan and the bell rang out for the third and final time. Through the thick membrane of his cocoon, Chernabog could see the sunrise, and he hissed to himself bitterly, closing his eyes against it.
Oh, someday... someday...
Fire exploded around his torso before Chernabog had time to organize just what was to come after someday, and he shrieked in surprise and indignation, throwing up his hands against the sun. He froze in anticipation, then slowly lowered his terrific arms to observe the room beyond the flames in which he lurked.
It was dark- that was good. Very good. Chernabog nodded to himself and hissed ever so softly as one of his clawed hands curled around the mantle of the fireplace and he continued to survey his surroundings. His eyes caught on a man- a mortal man, from whom he could almost see wretched Light and Holiness wafting. His lips curled into a terrible snarl, but still Chernabog lurked, watching the male in the midst of some mental agony.
His glowing orange eyes narrowed sharply as the mortal continued his tirade, and Chernabog began to smirk to himself anew. He was confused, indeed. He was also lost. Both were situations rectified by patience and thought. In the meantime, he could amuse himself with the torment of this poor, spiritual soul.
"Mortal!" His voice boomed powerfully through the chamber, and Chernabog finally emerged from the flames, standing bare before the human except for a black loin cloth. His clawed toes scratched the floor as he moved. "What is this mortal man's name, I do wonder? Why hath this silly mortal summoned one so powerful as I?" He stared at Frollo intensely and snorted, small tendrils of flame emerging from his nostrils. "Speak, fool! Lest I lose my patience with your frivolity!"
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Frollo: It was difficult to discern what was real and was not anymore. Once the red robed figures appeared all around him, chanting in Latin, Frollo could actually feel his sanity slipping away from him. Immediately he stood up while holding Esmeralda's scarf and began to run down the length of the vast chamber, the robed figures continuing their chant: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea maxima culpa! Of course he kept denying that none of this was his fault, it was the gypsy girl who did this to him. She was sent by the Devil himself to torment him, bewitch him, lead him astray from God.
Turning back towards the fireplace as the chanting spectral monks moved in closer, Frollo cried out in anguish: "He made the Devil so much stronger than a man!"
It seemed the moment he uttered those words the robed figures rose higher above him, but then turned into a blaze of fire. The flames swirled around him and blasted in towards the massive fireplace. Frollo fell to his knees and started to beg for the Virgin Mary to protect him while the fiery version of Esmeralda continued to taunt and tease him. Suddenly the fiery dancer changed right before his eyes into some enormous creature. The moment it bellowed out at him the minister immediately fell silent, but continued kneeling on the floor, mouth agape. It began to emerge from the fireplace, asking for his name. Frollo backed up slowly, his eyes widening with unmistakable fear. Summoned? What did he mean by summoned? With dull horror, he realized the last words he had uttered was claiming that God had made the Devil so much stronger than a man. Did that mean...no, that cannot be, what complete and utter nonsense!
The creature demanded he speak, his deep voice seemed to shake the very walls around him. Frollo inwardly found the strength to stand, but still kept a little bit of distance. Slowly he placed the purple scarf back within his cassock and then turned his dark eyes upward.
"I do not understand what you mean by summoned. I was merely asking for protection from an evil temptress."
Pausing for a moment, he tried to remain as calm as he possibly could. This surely had to be another hallucination. There would be no reason for the Devil to appear to him as he is a highly pious man. God would not allow any harm to come to him. Although...He did not save him from the evil spell Esmeralda wove over him earlier that day. It was the beginning of a very dark path he was traveling and he was spiraling further and further downward.
"As for my name, I am Claude Frollo, the Minister of Justice. Who...if I may ask, are you?"
Even as he finished those words he could feel a cold shiver course through him, afraid of what he will be told.
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Chernabog: Already Chernabog disliked this mortal. He reeked of the Light, and though he could not see them, he could sense the presence of many church bells- he did not know what time of the night it was in this strange place; therefore he did not know when the bells would ring. Chernabog merely relied on his own quickness to escape when the time came.
For the time being, his flaring orange eyes simply continued to narrow as he observed the man, rustling his wings ever so slightly as the dramatic pleas to the Light pressed on. Foul little creature; did he truly expect to be singled out and blessed? It was amusing, and so Chernabog smirked and chuckled in a gravelly tone.
"I do not understand what you mean by summoned. I was merely asking for protection from an evil temptress."
Now the fiendish beast could not contain an explosion of humor, barking in laughter. Temptress? Was that it? So much anguish and torment over a mere woman? Chernabog could recall a time when these human males had appreciated such attentions! Ah, it was all the Light. The Light introduced such frustrating inhibitions to the mortal psyche. "Fool. Protection shall not come without a price; if this foolish mortal wishes himself to be protected, payment is expected."
Chernabog gazed at the flimsy human with disinterest as he rattled out his name and position. Those words meant little to him, and he bared his teeth briefly in irritation. Yet he did not summon the dead, nor did he weave a dark spell to torment this soul further. In fact, he simply stood and looked at him; the confusion of his sudden change in location had put a damper on his willingness to work his magic.
"Justice, this Claude Frollo says." Chernabog mused to himself, wings unfurling and beating lightly against the air. It generated a fair breeze that traveled throughout the chamber, and he brought a hand to his face and scraped at his chin. "What justice may be wrought that may not also be unwrought? There is no justice which darkness cannot eclipse, I say." His eyes flared open a fraction wider when this pitiful creature dared ask his name, and at once Chernabog drew the fire out of the hearth and around his legs, forming a blistering cocoon.
"Human, listen carefully! My given name is Chernabog. You, mortal, are in the presence of the God of all darkness and evil!" His voice had risen to a wall-shaking boom, and abruptly Chernabog's expression twisted into a sick mockery of pleasure. "You say you wish for protection, Claude Frollo?" He asked in a gravelly tone. "The God Chernabog can offer protection your pathetic Light cannot."
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Frollo: It was exactly as he had feared and speculated. This Chernabog was of all consuming evil. The Devil incarnate...and he was here, stepping out of his fireplace...oh, mon Dieu! What kind of trickery of the mind was at work here?! The creature began explaining of how God cannot protect him, but that he in fact could instead, but with a price. Of course, he could unfortunately surmise what exactly that would entail: his mortal soul.
"Why would you offer to protect me? What purpose would that serve you? You also speak of a price of such services. What is the payment for your kind of protection?"
Oh, Claude, are you quite insane and have lost all your senses to ask such questions?! Still, there was that twinge of curiosity mixed within the fear as to what he will be told. He blamed Esmeralda's bewitching sorcery for all this as he greatly desired her. How far was he willing to go to have her? It would be so much easier to just have her killed and be free from her evil spell, but if there was a chance, even a small one to make her his, it would not hurt to perhaps at least consider it.
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Chernabog: The fear was intoxicating; he could only describe it in human terms as similar to the feeling one might get after ingesting three bottles of wine without breathing, but very much more potent. Perhaps it would make a lesser being unstable on their feet, but Chernabog was powerful and he kept the dizzying sensation hidden deep in his mind. His yellow eyes glowed harshly against the dim light of the room, and he watched the mortal with some small amusement.
"Why would you offer to protect me? What purpose would that serve you? You also speak of a price of such services. What is the payment for your kind of protection?"
The barrage of questions came too quickly, and Chernabog bared his fearsome teeth in aggravation, struggling to follow the words. How very long had it been since his last encounter with a human? One in which he had deigned to speak? It had certainly been too long for him to keep up with their hectic pacing; with only ninety years to live, these creatures were sickeningly rushed. "Speak slowly, Mortal!" Chernabog ordered harshly, shaking his horned head still. "Or the God Chernabog shall grant you eternal anguish the likes you cannot fathom!"
He flared his powerful wings and beat them again, venting his frustrations through the rhythmic pounding of the leathery membrane against the cool air. Chernabog read in this Claude Frollo's eyes anguish, the likes of which he longed to fan like fire in a hearth. Yet it would wait- indeed, it would have to. "The mortal asks why I, one so powerful, would protect one so inferior? Ah, human, it is through your kind- your pathetic, driveling species- that the God Chernabog receives his power. I protect your interests in order to protect my own." He breathed in deeply, smelling the reek of... France? How had he come to be in France? A vile country. He breathed again and snarled to himself.
Paris, no less. The Light was powerful in Paris, with that wretched stone prison. Chernabog felt his skin crawl at the close proximity he shared with Notre Dame. "Payment is mine to choose, prying wretch!" He thundered, more irritated now by his nearness to one of the Light's capitals than this Claude Frollo's pestering. "It could be many things, Mortal." He added, in a softer and more patient tone. "The spread of my cause, for instance. This Paris has the appearance of a blooming rose. Methinks it could do to wither- with the aid of this Claude Frollo." His eyes narrowed minutely. "Or your pathetic afterlife could be spent in the infernal agony of the Pit!"
Chernabog released a howl of laughter then, for the idea amused him greatly.
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Frollo: Such an interesting predicament the minister had found himself in. Especially since the idea of actually considering the words of this malevolent creature seemed so tempting. Of course he struggled a little within, knowing this would not please the Lord to even be conversing with such a satanic beast...but if he could give him what he wanted, how bad then could it be?
As Chernabog pointed out, the payment could be anything he so chooses, which concerned Frollo. Would he really risk his mortal soul for the sake of some gypsy girl? Had he truly gone mad to even sink this low? What has become of him to reach this point in his life? One look upon Esmeralda's beautiful face and he knew he was doomed forever...as one as dead.
"If I agree to seek your protection what is it that you choose for me?"
His own voice even sounded different to him now as he uttered those words. The voice of a very desperate man. Deep down he knew he should stop this insanity, run from the room, forget the gypsy girl, forget all this foolish nonsense and remember who he was again, but he could not. It seemed he was doomed to follow this dark path wherever it may lead him. The desire had consumed him, maddened him, there was no turning back now.
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Chernabog: The minds of mortals were so easily twisted. Chernabog could very hardly suppress a gruesome smirk at the thought of how simple this all was. Truly, humans had been set on Earth for his amusement - there was no other possible reason for such flighty creatures to exist but for his eternal entertainment. He played with them as a child may play with a doll - oh, they did have a horrible tendency to break, but he was surely creative enough to continue his games even after that. Broken humans became gargoyles, broken gargoyles became harpies, and the cycle continued until the very souls of his prey were too frayed to continue on the plane of existence.
This Claude Frollo? Oh, Chernabog had no immediate wish to break this toy. No, he was far too groggy and baffled for it. His vast and impressive mind was truly too jumbled to have such fun, and in his nearness to the mighty cathedral, he felt that his powers of evil had waned just slightly. If there was an effort in his work then it could no longer be considered amusement.
Yet this mortal had a mind aflame, so strongly that even the weakened God could feel it powerfully. A woman - bah! A mere woman held such sway? What weak creatures they were! Chernabog felt his lips curl again, mutating his simian face horribly into a mockery of pleasure.
Oh, what did he choose in return for his protection? So foolish... so young... the God Chernabog did not give protection. He offered his perverted form of it, but was there anything in the mortal realm truly worth the cost? He sincerely doubted that, yet let the fool believe so! "You would do wise, mortal, to hesitate in demanding answers from one so powerful!" He bellowed in disgust, turning away from the human to take in the chamber. He flared his wicked wings and tasted the ill-flavored air of Paris again, drawing his tongue across his lips as an idea blossomed in his mind.
"You hold sway over this city, Claude Frollo. I do not need my all-seeing gaze to know as much. You deal in justice. Perhaps I shall be gentle with you, mortal. The God Chernabog has his... limitations. I cannot venture far into this city without suffering... ah, but you can." His smile turned feral and demonic - more so than before. He drew a circle of flame around his clawed feet to warm himself against the stone floor.
Oh, to act through a puppet would be clever, he must say. Of course, he spoke with a barbed tongue - he would, of course, stake claim on this mortal's soul eventually. Alas! He could not let such an opportunity slip through his fingers! "I will offer you almighty and infinite protection. You shall be a step above common men...low chilling chuckle "... and women. You may stake claim to what you desire without fear, and in return you shall spread my cause throughout this vile city." He let the statement hang, still mulling over his modern tongues - they were very difficult to him. So very convoluted.
"If you, Claude Frollo, can strike terror into these pathetic mortal hearts and stir the forces of evil in my stead, you shall have the God Chernabog as a protector. If this loathsome city doth burn bright with horror and the fires of hell, I will surely grant you what you wish."
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Frollo: This was almost too easy. The city was already under the minister's powerful control. The people feared the iron grip he held. Oh, yes, he could indeed strike terror into the citizens of Paris, the gypsies especially. Easily he could continue to do what he already has been doing, but now with the protection of this powerful dark lord behind him. And through all this the creature Chernabog would grant him his deepest desires in return...Esmeralda. All had to do now was agree to this tempting offer...turn his back on God and all that he knew of the Catholic religion. Sell his soul...
For a moment Frollo stood still, letting the words of the dark creature sink in deeply. His desire to possess the gypsy girl was so profound. There really was no way he could walk away from this offer, not now. His dark eyes, which now held a strange glow to them, slowly lifted up towards Chernabog; a small grin began to form across his lips, curling the corners.
"Yes... I will do what you ask of me. It actually is quite natural for me to continue this kind of terror amongst the citizens of Paris anyway. I have been doing so for years."
There, he agreed to this most dark, yet tempting offer. A cold wind blew in through the window of his chamber, sending a chill deep within his very soul. It was as if God Himself turned his back on him, giving him the cold shoulder in that very instant.
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Chernabog: It was the pious who had the farthest to fall. This Chernabog had learned many years ago, and he had kept the information in his grand and all-knowing mind. It was a truly joyous sport for him; one which continued even through his genuine distress of finding himself trapped in such close quarters to the foul Light. His grand wings beat against the air of the chamber, stirring dust from the corners and fanning the fireplace into a suitable inferno.
Ah, there was... a trick, as the mortals would say, to catching individuals soaked in the Light off guard. Humans were petty, flighty, and susceptible to his darkness - far more than any other creature in the wide world. It was truly only a matter of finding their weakest point and grabbing it in his clawed hand. Once he found their downfall, there was really very little they could do but squirm miserably in his grasp.
"Ah!" His face morphed into what may have been a benevolent smile upon any other God, and Chernabog nodded his great, horned head approvingly. "To think this mortal has followed the Light so blindly... clearly it is with the God Chernabog that his..." Curses, what was a human word for what he wished to communicate? Oh, blast these mortals and their Hellishly complicated tongues! "ideals run." The hefty weight of Light that had condemned his movements through the room had lifted somewhat, for this Claude Frollo could not follow It and still accept the word of Chernabog as his law.
The feeling of sickness that had infected his being felt somewhat alleviated. Enough, at least, for Chernabog to progress to the opened window. But for the soft clicks of his clawed toes against the stone, the God progressed with more grace than his well-muscled and massive form suggested. He rested a heavy hand upon the windowsill and gazed across the vile city with cruel intentions dancing in his flaming eyes.
"Three centuries... much too long to endure such a wretched blight!" He spoke more to himself than to his mortal companion, and Chernabog grimaced, crushing his massive hand print into the stone upon which it rested. "When you have done as you promise, Chernabog shall grant your desires, Mortal." He did not deign to turn when he spoke, trusting his overwhelming voice to circulate throughout the room.
Oh, but Chernabog was the Devil in more than merely name. His promises were twisted and lined with half-truths. Perhaps he would give this pathetic mortal what he so longed for... or perhaps he would not. Perhaps he would be rewarded with this vile gypsy, alive and well... or perhaps not. It was simply too difficult to decide as long as the Light made him weak. He would wait and watch how well this gruesome city burned. Then he would decide the mortal Claude Frollo's... reward.
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Frollo: Kneeling, head bowed low, the minister listened carefully to the God Chernabog. With each word the demonic creature uttered, the madness gripped him fully. The Virgin Mary herself would not be able to sway him from this dark path now. His thoughts were solely on how he could please this creature in order to obtain Esmeralda for himself.
"I shall not fail you, my lord."
That statement flowed so easily from his once devout lips. Wiping out the gypsies was a goal long ingrained into him. Continuing such a task would be most rewarding not just for Chernabog, but for himself as well. Cleanse the city of Paris from those heathen vermin only to be rewarded with one of their own to do with as he saw fit...yes...how perfect; how perfect indeed.
It was as Frollo slowly began to rise to his feet, the door of the vast chamber was opened without any warning. A small shaft of light penetrated the gloom, causing the judge to whirl around, breathing heavily. It was one of his guards, he was there to inform him that the gypsy Esmeralda has escaped Notre Dame. No sign of her anywhere...she was gone. Rage boiled hotly within him at those words. Through clenched teeth he ordered the soldier out of the room. Hopefully he did not see the demon near the fireplace. Turning back to Chernabog, his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits.
"I'll find her...I'll find her if I have to burn down all of Paris!"
Now, even more than ever he was determined to wreck havoc upon the city. Anyone who stood in his path during his obsessive search for the gypsy girl would be killed. This should please the God Chernabog greatly!~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: There really was not much more point to continue this. Frollo basically sold his soul to the devil during the Hellfire scene and spiraled into madness, leading right up to his death. When Frollo plunges to the fiery pit below Notre Dame, Chernabog welcomes him into the gates of Hell.