A Slight Twist of Fate
Doubt was an unusual companion for the young and innocent, which was visiting Esmeralda rather frequently recently.
She loved Phoebus, she knew that. Or, at least, she was reminding herself of this. Phoebus was everything she could wish a man to be. He was a powerful Captain of the Guard, her brave rescuer, a sun god. He was so tall, so handsome, and she was only a poor dancer. How could she not be impressed? How could she not love him?
But, after seeing him a few times, Esmeralda found something lacking.
They almost made love the first time they met in private. She was about to sacrifice her virtue for him, when the old woman who had led them in interrupted and said that someone else had paid more money for the room. Strange, now that Esmeralda recalled, Phoebus insisted that he could pay more, but he only kept throwing anxious glances at a small door in the room and did not produce any more money. The old woman was not one to negotiate and told him bluntly that until she saw the money she had to let the room to the other. Phoebus managed to persuade the old woman and implored both she and Esmeralda to wait outside the room.
By that time, Esmeralda calmed down sufficiently to be embarrassed by the situation and left in a hurry. Certainly, that house was not a place she imagined love could reside. It was… sordid. Esmeralda pouted. And a sun god reduced to talking about something as petty as money! She did not recognize it at the time, but drops of disillusionment were beginning to fill her heart.
Since then, she had three more meetings with Phoebus, in different places, always at night, always surreptitious. She had more time to reflect, and although she could not put her finger to it, she understood that the love that Phoebus showed was not her ideal of love.
Love, she told Gringoire, was heaven. Yet, the more she was with Phoebus, the less heaven beckoned to her. He acted gallantly each time he greeted her, but his actions were thoughtless. He made loud, even moving, declarations of love, but while she was focused on him, his attention was easily diverted by boorish sounds and the clink of glasses indicating men drinking wine. She had told him proudly that first night that he could use her however he pleased and when he tired of her, she would gladly wash his clothes while he found others worthy of his love. But when she arrived earlier than the stipulated time one night, and saw him admire other women and kiss them, she found, to her mortification, that she despised him.
Esmeralda despaired. Did love as she believed ought to be not exist? Was her own love, which she flattered herself would be steadfast forever, merely false?
-0-
Frollo sighed as Esmeralda walked into another house to meet Phoebus.
The first night when Phoebus hid him in the den had been agonizing torture. Frollo felt the chains of the devil strangle him, as he saw how surely the captain was going to possess Esmeralda. He would have crashed through that worm-eaten door and stabbed the captain, but for the unceremonious intrusion of the old crone. In a surreal haze, he listened as Phoebus cajoled her and Esmeralda to leave the room, and as soon as they did, Phoebus let him out and ask for more generosity. He did not know what he would have done, when the old crone came in again to make a most anticlimactic announcement.
"The bird has flown. Do you still want the room?"
The fool still sought out Esmeralda though. Frollo spied on the occasions when Phoebus and Esmeralda met, but as Phoebus was chagrined by the first incident, he could not convince Phoebus to let him into any room during his rendezvous with Esmeralda. Besides, Phoebus pointed out, Frollo should already be satisfied that he was not a liar. And Frollo could not stop Phoebus and Esmeralda from meeting, for there were always people about them. From time to time, he found Gringoire to question him. As far as Gringoire knew, Esmeralda was still pure. So Frollo continued to wait in misery each time he saw them enter a house together, waiting for that fatal blow when Phoebus would finally claim Esmeralda.
It seemed, however, that Phoebus failed in his conquest on this occasion too, as Frollo saw him step out with a thunderous expression only minutes after Esmeralda entered the house, and slink away to a line of prostitutes standing in the street.
It was not an emotion Frollo was familiar with, but hope was growing in him. Perhaps Esmeralda was not enamored with this wretched sun god at all. Perhaps Esmeralda had room in her heart for another. The nights in his cell alone were by turns terrible and ecstatic. As he replayed the scene where Esmeralda's clothes were removed by the despicable hands of the captain, his blood boiled as he remembered her graceful neck, her round shoulders, and her perfect bosom.
In this reverie, he did not notice a woman approach him. He would soon be accosted.
-0-
Esmeralda was weeping, confused and despondent. She wanted desperately to give Phoebus another chance, but Phoebus had gotten disinterested in her conversations. He had said coldly that unless she gave her virtue to him, he would not believe that she loved him. She asked him to give her time. She wanted to love him, she averred, truly she did. She tried to prove herself by kissing him, but when Phoebus started removing her clothes, she protested and pushed him away. Phoebus, unused to rejection, proclaimed that other women loved him better, and stormed away. She had lost any chance at love. She was angry with herself, but, at the same time, she was angrier with Phoebus.
Esmeralda stayed in the room wallowing in bitter tears. If only Djali were here, she would at least have the comfort of her companion. But Djali seemed more taken to Gringoire lately. Soon, however, she heard a commotion, and her sharp ears picked up a man's voice. Surprised, she walked towards the window and looked out. It was a voice she was accustomed to hearing only sinister threats, but which was now full of distress. That accent…
-0-
Frollo was confronted by a woman and a man whom he could only surmise was her procurer. The woman had propositioned him, and he had resolutely told her to go away. But then the man came, and offered a deal to him. Having recovered from his initial shock, Frollo said imperiously that he was not some base lout, which only served to insult the man.
"Look here," the man said sourly, "If you are not a customer, you are an intruder standing in a place you don't belong. A sous."
"What?" he asked. Stupidly.
"You wasted my girl's time, and time is all she has. Two sous, and off with you!"
Not wanting to argue, Frollo fumbled in his pockets, and found them empty. He had left Notre Dame without his purse.
The man cursed, "An intruder, and a beggar!"
Frollo thought that he would have to fight him to get away, when the sweetest voice made him freeze.
"What is the matter?" There, before him, was the lovely vision of Esmeralda. His knees faltered and he stumbled a little backwards.
The prostitute seemed aware that she was before someone far superior in carriage and beauty, and sneered. The man's visage, on the other hand, softened. He recognized the Bohemian.
"Sister," he said, "This man stands here, and pretends to be a customer, but he will not have my girl. She is not young anymore and has lost her teeth, keep quiet Colette! (the woman had wailed when she heard him describe her in such a fashion) I ask only for three sous for our time."
"And so?"
"He has no money."
"Money!" Esmeralda repeated, and looked pensive. She glanced at Frollo, who tried to maintain his composure. He noticed that her eyes were red, and his budding hope was dashed. She and Phoebus had a quarrel, and she could only be this unhappy because she loved him.
Esmeralda took out a pouch. She poured out all the coins from it into the man's hands.
"Will these do, monsieur? They are all I have."
The man counted the money. "That will do, sister," he said, and was about to leave, when Colette, jealous that Esmeralda was not only beautiful, but rich and free (by her standards, it must be said), stepped forwards menacingly to claw Esmeralda's face.
Unthinking, Frollo stood in front of Esmeralda and was scratched by Colette.
"By the Pope, Colette!" the man shouted, and dragged her away.
Frollo's face stung, and he did not dare look at Esmeralda. How pathetic he must look to her, in contrast to her precious sun god, dressed in an ugly cassock, without money and without dignity, and attacked by a woman!
-0-
Why did she help this frightful priest? It just seemed odd that he should be there, and that he seemed uncharacteristically hapless. Clopin said it was her nature to help, whether the person deserved it or not. Gringoire and Quasimodo were merely examples of many others she had helped.
Esmeralda's eyes widened when Colette advanced towards her, but shock only came when she saw how the priest immediately protected her.
For a while, as they were left alone, Esmeralda expected the priest to say something, but all he did was keep his back to her. Pouting, she reached out to tug his sleeve. The priest stirred and finally turned to look at her, and she saw the red lines on his cheek.
"Oh!" Esmeralda took out her handkerchief and cleaned his face.
Tears were streaming down the priest's cheeks.
"Does it hurt so badly?" Esmeralda asked. She did not think so, and thought the priest overly sensitive. To her surprise, the priest caught her hand when she withdrew it. It was a hard grip and she shrieked. "You are hurting me!"
The priest shuddered. Through his tears, Esmeralda saw his eyes burn. She was bewildered by this peculiar priest, and regretted helping him at all. When he let go of her hand, he alarmed her further by pulling her into his arms. She saw him looking wildly in the direction of the crowd to see if anyone heard her shriek. As though suddenly possessed, he carried Esmeralda away. The roads he took were deserted and no one heard her calls for help. The priest did not stop until he brought her to Notre Dame, up the stairs and into a room. He let her go, only to turn back and lock the door. Frightened, Esmeralda retreated to a corner, and took out her dagger.
"Brute!" she reproached him as he walked towards her, but all other reproaches died in her throat, when the priest cried.
"I love you!"
-0-
Frollo could see that Esmeralda was flustered. His heart beat painfully. Could she not understand? Was she not the one who put the spell on him?
When she spoke, it was in a voice full of awed disbelief.
"What does a priest know about love?"
"What indeed?" Frollo asked sardonically. For months, it was the one fixed idea in Frollo's mind, which precluded him from doing all else. He gave a mournful sigh, "To love is to burn, to want to be with her always. To be one with her. It is paradise."
The girl started and her eyes narrowed. Next, she asked, "And you think you love me?"
She was talking to him for the first time without disdain, and Frollo could no longer repress his feelings. Falling to his knees, he spoke at length of how he first saw her, how he fell in love, how he followed her everywhere. He drew himself closer to her and when she gasped and told him that she would use her dagger, he drew forth the poniard which he hid in his cassock, and laid it before her feet.
"I have determined that if I cannot have your love, no one shall have you," he said grimly. "I have informed you of my plans to trap you. I thought myself master, that I could execute my plans as and when I wanted, but fate warned me that she could push me to evil deeds by presenting to us this infernal captain. I knew then, that I would have committed murder for you. So you see, if you shall not have me, it will lead to my destruction in any event, or yours."
Esmeralda shook her head out of horrified compassion. The love which the priest professed to her was so bleak. So unlike the lightness and splendor of her own dreams and even Phoebus's speeches. It chilled her to know that a man could be so dark, but she knew now what Phoebus lacked which the priest was showing in abundance. Sincerity. She whispered, "You are ill suited to be a priest, father."
A smile played on Frollo's lips; it was a broken smile. "Oh. Do not call me father."
"What shall I call you? I had a number of names for you, but I do not think you will like any of them."
Frollo hesitated. Would Esmeralda compare his name to Phoebus's and mock him? "My name is Dom Claude Frollo."
Despite the tension between them, Esmeralda found herself amused. She could not help but smile, dazzling Frollo further, "A solemn name for a solemn man!"
They fell silent, she pondering over this unexpected revelation; he stupefied by the softness which she had never bestowed on him. Then, Esmeralda knelt before him, and put away both dagger and poniard. She sat across him, and continued to study him, seeing him in a new light. On his part, Frollo had never been so close to her before, and the proximity made him tremble. Intoxicated by the radiance of her beauty, and heedless of the consequences, he reached out and grasped her around her waist.
"If mutual destruction is not what you wish," he stammered, "I must have you." It was a selfish notion, to not allow the girl the chance to respond as he kissed her. But he did not care. For months since he laid eyes on her, he was starved of affection. To finally be able to clasp her in his arms and kiss her lips, her face, her neck, her shoulders! It was indeed paradise.
Esmeralda was taken aback by how Frollo's lips burnt. Why did she not yet push him away as she did Phoebus? This priest was a cruel man who would do evil deeds and blame her for them. His kisses were forceful and rough. Phoebus, at least, knew how to be gentle. Esmeralda felt a pang as she realized the gulf of experience between both men.
"Stop!" Esmeralda came to her senses and pleaded with Frollo not to take her in such a deplorable manner. In their struggles, her amulet which she hid slid out. She cried pitifully, "Oh, my parents!"
At this, Frollo did pause and feel guilty. Gringoire had told him how often Esmeralda would talk about finding her parents. He had a glimpse of the amulet when Phoebus was removing her clothes. On closer inspection, he saw that it was in fact a bag.
"It is a bag? What does it contain?" he asked, his arms still wrapped around the beautiful girl.
"Yes," Esmeralda said, wanting to distract him, "I can show it to you. But you must promise not to touch it. It may harm you."
Frollo nodded, and added slyly, "If you promise not to struggle so."
Esmeralda blushed, and Frollo found her blushes adorable. His body still fueled with pleasure simply by holding her, Frollo watched as she opened the bag and produced a shoe. Seeing the little shoe, Frollo felt the cold hands of fate seize him. He stared at Esmeralda as realization dawned.
"Good God."
-0-
It was a whirlwind week for Esmeralda.
The only two people in the world whom she thought hated her, turned out to love her the most.
No words could describe her reunion with her mother, the woman from the Rat-Hole. How Gudule rejoiced, and how she lavished Esmeralda with praises were rapturous to behold. When she bemoaned that she could not hold her daughter, Frollo persuaded her to be patient and was responsible for summoning Quasimodo to break through the Rat-Hole.
In the days that followed, Esmeralda brought her mother around Paris and secured a room for the both of them to stay. She informed the truands that she would not live with them now that she had found her mother. Clopin said tersely that to leave the Court of Miracles was to leave its protection, but Esmeralda was not concerned. She spent nights talking with her mother, as each explained to the other details of her life. When the euphoria of their reunion settled somewhat, and her mother queried about the future, Esmeralda admitted that while Reims sounded pleasant, she was growing roots in Paris. She also reminded her mother that they would need money to travel, and, if her mother wanted, she would dance and save her earnings to do so.
"You are right, my daughter, you are right. I am an old hag who does not think. I will listen to you."
Gudule followed Esmeralda everywhere. It was a marvel to the crowds who were so used to her screech insults at Esmeralda to hear her sing a different tune. "How light her steps are!" Gudule wrung her hands in elation, "How beautiful she is! Oh, God is good! God is good!"
As for Esmeralda, having never known the love of a mother, she basked and flourished under Gudule's care. But her thoughts never left Frollo, the man who hated her, loved her, intimidated her, and united her with her mother. At night, even as her mother held her to sleep, Esmeralda dreamt of the priest's caresses. She had not seen him since he helped free her mother from the Rat-Hole. Although she did not know what her feelings were for him yet, Esmeralda knew that she wanted to see him again.
She told her mother one night after supper that she was going to see someone alone, and that their neighbor, a good elderly woman, would keep her mother company that night. Gudule was naturally appalled as she was afraid that she would not see her daughter again.
"Is it that husband you saved, Pierre Gringoire? Are you going to see him?"
"No, mother." Gringoire was happily settled with the truands, and with his skills as an acrobat, Esmeralda knew that he would survive. "It is another man."
Gudule grimaced, "It is a man all the same! Don't let a man ruin you my child! See what they have done to me!"
"He… he is different, mother."
"Bah! My child, listen to me." Gudule beseeched Esmeralda to stay, but Esmeralda was determined to go. In truth, Gudule was a simple person who had been led by others throughout her life, until she had given birth to Esmeralda. It would seem that Esmeralda had a stronger presence of mind than she did at her age, and she saw that she was upsetting her daughter.
"You promise that you will return?" Gudule asked timidly.
"Dearest mother, I promise."
-0-
Esmeralda knew where Frollo's room was, and knew that he was inside as she saw light spilling from the door. She knocked on the door, and when there was no answer, she pushed it and let herself in.
Frollo was sitting in his chair, staring at some illegible engraving on the wall. He did not see her, and Esmeralda observed him. His entire being was tense, and his expression ghastly. If she did not know him better, she would have been frightened.
"Dom Claude Frollo?" she said softly, hoping that she would not agitate him. It was clear she failed, for Frollo gripped the arms of his chair and gasped.
"No…" she heard him cry, "No… I must forget her, I must forget her…"
Realizing that he thought he was imagining her voice, Esmeralda's heart contracted. She stepped into his line of sight.
Frollo merely gaped when Esmeralda stood in front of him, and Esmeralda smiled. It would seem that she had to start the conversation. She asked, "Did you know that I was dancing in the square tonight?"
Frollo's face was flushed, "Yes."
"Why did you not come and see me? You always do."
Frollo's heart hurt tremendously. Since learning that Esmeralda was Gudule's daughter, Frollo was lost. Heretofore, he thought Esmeralda a witch. But she was not. She was only a kidnapped child, with no spells to ensnare men. For days, he stayed in his cell, staring at the Greek words of fate and impurity which he had carved on the wall. It was in this perpetual daze that Esmeralda found him in.
"Agnes…"
Esmeralda's lips parted in surprise. Even her mother had chosen to call her Esmeralda, because she was used to it.
"Such an ordinary name…" he mused, and said sadly, "… only human."
Esmeralda frowned. She could not understand this enigmatic priest. "You do not wish to see me, because I am not a witch and I am not forbidden?"
Frollo's face palled. Shaking his head at Esmeralda's incomprehension, he sobbed, "Foolish girl. You are always forbidden to me. But I know… I know that I cannot blame you. The fault is mine…" It was his own weakness that he craved for her, nothing more. He thought himself broken before. He was now completely devastated.
"Why are you here? Oh, God, why are you here? Do you know how you torment me?"
Esmeralda may not fully appreciate it, but Frollo's dilemma was akin to when she was torn between loving Phoebus and finding her parents. Only, the priest's devotion to her was far deeper and hence more painful. And now knowing that she was not a witch, he no longer blamed her and thought that he could not have her. Esmeralda was honestly relieved. It was not perfect, but it was at least a start.
"Do you remember the paper that the good gypsy woman left together with my shoe?"
Frollo stared at her, not understanding Esmeralda's question. He could only nod.
"She told me something which was not written there. She said… she said that the amulet's power extinguishes when I find my parents. My virtue remains intact, because it is to be given to he who helped me find my parents… my true husband."
Frollo stopped breathing.
Although she had prepared herself mentally for what was to come, Esmeralda was still nervous, and needed assurance. As cautiously as she could, she sat on Frollo's lap. She savored the heat emitting from him. Looking at him, she recollected how she once thought him old, bald and ugly. Perhaps he was not handsome like Phoebus, but she saw how beautiful and expressive his eyes were. She traced his aquiline nose, and the lines on his face with her little fingers, memorizing his features.
"Do you love me, Dom Claude Frollo?"
A dam broke inside Frollo, and his arms rushed to embrace Esmeralda.
"Yes… yes…" At each confession, he planted kisses on her body. He did not ask if she loved him. She was offering herself to him, and he did not wish to wreck this miracle with questions.
Uninhibited and casting aside all misgivings, Esmeralda quivered under Frollo's kisses and caresses. After her dreams, it felt wonderful to be with him again and she was certain that she was doing the right thing. His hands moved to places which even Phoebus did not have a chance with and she tingled under his touch. Between her legs, a warm pool formed.
As for Frollo, each sigh and palpitation from his beloved served only to arouse him further. It was driving him mad, of course. But they were in a position which did not allow him full access to her body, and he was also impeded by the clothes they were wearing.
Shaking with desire, Frollo stood up and carried Esmeralda to his bed, where he laid her carefully. Frollo perched on top of Esmeralda, as they looked at each other, trying to process the sensations coursing in their veins. Then, Frollo's trembling hands reached for Esmeralda's skirt, and tugged at it in frustration.
Esmeralda's hands moved to still his. Wordlessly, she undid her clothes. She deliberately did it slowly, wanting to see his reaction. It was astounding, to see his eyes widen and hear him pant as she removed each piece of clothing. The emotions flowing between them were becoming more and more profound.
When Esmeralda's naked body was revealed, Frollo swooned at the sight. For several moments, all he could do was stare. A deep crimson spread across Esmeralda.
"Do you not want to kiss me again?" she asked shyly.
Kiss! Lascivious thoughts were searing Frollo's mind. He wanted more than kiss her. He wanted to devour her. Running his hands fervently over her body, he was gratified to see her arch her back and spread her legs. His eyes shone as they rested on her sacred womanhood. A scent, strong, feminine, and musky, filled his nostrils and triggered something primal in him. His loins were aching, and his hips were jerking on their own accord.
"My clothes," he said hoarsely.
Esmeralda eagerly pulled his surplice and shirt over his head, and he was soon naked as well. It was her turn to stare in fascination. She would not have thought his shoulders so broad or his body so trim. His manhood, which was free from all restraint, was standing straight and proud. When she had rescued Gringoire, the gypsy women had taught her the difference between man and woman, and she now shivered with anticipation.
For a while, Frollo was nervous. She was so beautiful and flawless, and he… was not. Too late, he remembered the scars left on his body from his self-fledging. He shrank back a little. But the angel, oh, the angel, accepted him. She cupped his face with her hands and kissed him. She moved to be closer to him and he felt her inner thighs rubbing his manhood. He thought he would die from joy.
They were two virgins, locked in each other's arms, inexperienced in this timeless art. What they lacked in skill, they made up with ardency. They continued to kiss and caress each other, learning about each other's body and finding out what each other liked. When she licked his ear playfully, he growled and responded by squeezing her breasts. She in turn gasped and her mind swam with giddy delight. As her hands glided over Frollo's body, his tortured soul healed and soared.
"Esmeralda… Agnes…" he whispered reverentially against her satin skin. Obsessed as he was by her exotic name before, it did not matter what her name was now. She may be a mere slip of a girl, but the power she held over him was beyond reason. She was his Helen, his Venus, his Eve, and God forgive him, he would worship her.
Esmeralda returned Frollo's ardor. She did not have to prove herself; she wanted to soothe and love her mysterious priest. Eagerly, she kissed his tears away and pressed herself against his chest, and was rewarded with a whimper and feverish kisses. When Esmeralda instinctively wrapped her legs around him, Frollo froze and looked at her. She saw the plea in his eyes, and gave her assent by shifting her body so that her entrance touched the tip of his manhood. Frollo shuddered violently as he felt her inviting wetness. Overwhelmed, he penetrated her.
Frollo cried out as the pleasure instantly engulfed him. To be two, and to be one, that was what love was. In a haze of passion, he began to thrust quickly inside her, moaning repeatedly as shocks of pleasure ripped through his body.
Esmeralda had been ready for the initial pain, and winced when Frollo started rocking inside her. But her arousal soon overtook and eased her pain, so that she could enjoy him. He was pushing and rubbing inside her and his motions were sending waves of pleasure within her. Moaning as well, she bent forward to kiss her lover, and their tongues danced together even as they moved as one.
It was not long before Frollo lost all control and felt his entire being burst as he released himself again and again inside Esmeralda. Esmeralda soon reached the height of euphoria with him, and they convulsed in each other's arms. Gasping for air, Esmeralda clutched at Frollo, as she tried to recover from their love-making.
"Stay," Esmeralda entreated him, afraid that he would detach himself from her, as the gypsy women had told her that men usually left after their needs were satisfied.
Frollo did not argue. Instead, he held her tightly.
"Don't leave me…" he echoed her thoughts. If God wanted man to obey His Will, He should not allow such bliss to occur on this earth. But then, another thought crept into his languorous mind, that was why God created the holy institution…
"My love," he murmured, "I promise…"
"What do you mean?" Esmeralda asked.
"I will teach you the ways of my religion's marriage."
As Frollo drifted to sleep, he did not see Esmeralda blink back tears of happiness.
-0-
A/N - This came from an anonymous prompt on my tumblr. It became really long and I decided to publish it here too.