An early, orange, dawn light broke through Frollo's window, filling his room with a soft glow. His sharp-boned hands clutched the edge of his blanket, though he was not ready to rise. The streets outside the confines of his small house were still quiet. Not a soul was awake this early. He lay there, tired, for he had only gone to bed a few hours ago. His sister, who he was the official guardian of, even being only three years older than her, had been up until the moon was at it's highest. She had a terrible cough which took hours to cease, barely giving her a moment to breathe. He had sat and prayed with her and soon enough she had drifted off, lifting some of the worry from his chest. The idea of any sickness in his house made his insides churn. His father and mother had both died from some terrible chest infection just about four years ago. The idea of leaving Amarante to fend for herself, or loosing her and being alone was too much to even think about.
The door soon creaked open, and he averted his gaze from his hymnal on his nightstand to the small girl standing at the threshold of his room. A cold wind swept past her, and sent a chill down his spine. He curled up in bed even more drawn in now.
"How do you feel?" He asked the small-framed, short girl. Even at the brim of some terrible sickness her confidence and pride brought her to his door by herself. Her short, blond hair was unkempt and her skinny figure looked sickly in the now-bright morning light. Her round green eyes were dim with exhaust, but she kept her chin up.
"Better-" She was cut off as she fell into a fit of coughs.
Frollo, who had been too tired to change before falling asleep and was fully clothed, stood and walked over to her. He put his arm lovingly around her and escorted her back to bed.
"Rest." He demanded, but softly. She sighed, a painful sounding wheeze escaping her lungs.
"But I must go into town today to shop. You have lessons and mass that you can't miss." She objected, trying to sit up again. Frollo caught her as she tried to leave, strands of his raven black hair falling in front of his eyes as he swiftly stopped her.
"I can miss a day to take care of you and do all of your jobs." He said, heaving a sigh of anxiety.
"Are you sure that's okay?" She asked, already half-asleep under the covers.
"Of course." He said, standing to leave. He slowly walked out, closing the door behind him slowly. He quietly made his way back to his room, quickly changing and freshening up.
He made his way into the vibrant morning. The sky was a clear blue. The spring breeze brought the smells of the marketplace to his nose. He smiled. It was rare he was able to go out midday. He was usually studying: whether it be Latin or The Holy Bible, and was held in a small room for the majority of the week. The grey cobblestone streets underneath his feet led him to the bread stand where he purchased a loaf and was quickly off the the next stand.
"Claude, is that you?" He heard a familiar voice call his name. He turned around to see his friend, Fiacre, a successful merchant in this area of town, waving at him. Fiacre was a man of average height. He had raven hair which stretched down to his chin and striking blue eyes. He had a visible bruise on his cheek as well. As Frollo made his way over to him, he gestured toward the wound.
"It still hasn't healed?" He asked.
Fiacre touched the wound and winced. "Nope. But if I ever see that drunk bastard again he will not get away as easily as last time."
Frollo remembered the brawl that had happened between Fiacre and the drunken stranger. Fiacre had escaped with a bruise from a punch and the other man's forehead had been bleeding profusely. Frollo had never let alcohol that wasn't for the purpose of communion touch his lips, but he often went out with his friends Fiacre and Sylvain to make sure they didn't get into too much trouble.
"So what brings you out here?" Fiacre asked. "Shouldn't you be studying?"
"I should, however Amarante had fallen very ill and I needed to do her chores for her."
"Ah, I see. How ill?" Fiacre asked.
"It doesn't seem terrible but I want her to rest." Frollo responded after a moment.
"I send my regards and wishes for her to get better."
"Thank you!" Frollo responded as he walked off, continuing through the market. Down the street some, he passed a house with an odd sounding hymnal coming from it. It sounded as if it was a castrated choir but more clear, more… beautiful. There was something peaceful about the way it was being sung. He didn't even realize it until he stood before it but he had made his way around to the front and was now standing at the door. What should he do? Knock and see what human beings made such an astounding sound. The sound of butter, the sound of birds, the sound of prayer as it had never sounded before?
His hand, in the formation of a fist now, was reaching towards the door and he slowly knocked. It took a few moments to open, but when it did a girl stood in the threshold. She had silky, dark brown, pin straight hair that made it down to her shoulders. She was as pale as moonlight, with almond-shaped blue eyes and the body figure of an upside down triangle.
"Yes…?" She asked. "Do you have a letter?"
"No…" Frollo trailed off, looking into her curious eyes. "No-no I was just… I heard someone singing and it lead me here. That was quite a beautiful sound. I'm sorry to disturb you but I am a man of prayer and I've never heard a hymnal performed as alluring as that one was. Who was that?"
She laughed. "You think I would tell you? You've just showed up to my door- a stranger!" Frollo lightly laughed, not knowing what else to do.
"Yes, I have just realized how odd my behavior is. I will leave now." He said, backing up.
"If you cared, it was me." She said, as he turned to leave. He whipped around, this time out of anger.
"You?" He asked.
"Well, and a few other girls-"
"Girls!" Frollo spat. "This is blasphemy! Even outside of the church women are not allowed to sing!"
"It is only for our love of God! Why shouldn't we be able to sing?"
"It's forbidden!"
"Forbidden for us to worship someone just because we are women? Tell me, you said we sounded beautiful. Do your Gregorian Chants sound as good? There are many women gifted with beautiful voices." Frollo huffed, and turned to leave, but was stopped once more by the girl's voice. "If you care to go tell your archdeacon about our forbidden singing, the name is Colombe Poirer! But I hope instead you see how ignorant you are being!"
"And when you are publicly shamed as a- singing girl- forever remember the name Claude Frollo!"
"I will!" She responded, slamming the door behind her.
Frollo angrily returned home, slamming the door behind him. He placed the basket on the dining room table and took a deep breathe before entering Amarante's room.
"What happened this time? Where did your temper run off to?" She asked, rolling her eyes.
Frollo couldn't help but smile. "I found it." He sighed. "So it doesn't matter." Amarante pulled the covers up and started shivering in her bed. "I bought your favorite, strawberries. I thought they may help you feel better."
"Thank you." She said, smiling as he placed a wooden bull full of them on the nightstand beside her. "Maybe you can make it to evening mass." She suggested.
"No, I must say here and take care of you." He said.
"What if we had our own mini-mass and you read me something from The Bible and told me all about it."
Frollo smiled. "That sounds like a great idea. Give me a moment." Frollo returned seconds later with a bible in hand. He sat on the edge of bed and opened it up. "What would you like to hear?"
"How about Joseph." She said, falling into a fit of coughs. Frollo waited for her to stop before he asked:
"Which one?"
"The one with the beautiful coat!"
"Ah, I like that one too." He flipped through the frail pages until he found what he was looking for. "Jacob lived in the land where his father had stayed, the land of Canaan…"