Son of the Damned
"Another day, another week, another month, another year, another day, another night, until it's day again…The sun is fled, I go to bed and scratch a line on the wall, another day, where nothing changes at all."
The lonesome teen sung with a voice full of the somber conviction in his heart, and the Nodus Tollens that plagued him to depart from such a tribulating existence.
"And every day, shuffles by like the day before, on its way to the blackest of skies! And every day, a little death comes and paces the floor! And a little bit more of me dies…"
He hated his father, the Honorable Judge Claude Frollo, who'd driven Enjorlas' Mother to illness. The hypocrite who burned the Holy words into the scarred flesh of his son. He loathed the man who justified his cruelty as punishment and saw fit to throw his only child in a cell that had become more home to the young man than the company of his father would ever be. "Another day, another week, another month, another year, another night I spend alone until its day again."
He pulled himself up and stretched a curious hand to the window well out of his reach; only his fingertips being graced by the almost stagnate breeze that carried with it the cacophonous sounds of others in the penury of their continuation.
He wanted out…
Needed, out into...well, it had been nine years since he'd been nine years since he'd been let outside and to roam the streets of the Isle. No, at sixteen, he wondered what changes had been made other than what his father complained about—which was few. It had to be better than the shackles on his ankles.
"Our little star had moved away, and all the world is a bleb, I only see I am not me without her!" He held his wrist to what little light dared to enter and felt pen print behind his eyes as the sun's rays illuminated the handmade rosary of Tibet rose beads in red agate St. Benedict Cross; the last seats of his mother... "Everyday a little death for every day I die...Everyday a little death and still I know not why..."
"And every day you grow more and more into the anathema I work so hard to stop you from becoming." Enjorlas jumped and pressed himself into the wall.
When had he entered the cell?
How long had that man been watching?
"That woman allowed far too much clemency in your upbringing; a fault you will overcome."
"Eponine," Enjorlas gritted out. "My mother, your wife...her name was Eponine." never where the better man wasn't degrading value of a woman who in Enjorlas' eyes belonged on Auradon but instead...instead chose Frollo. A day never passed where the judge wasn't playing infant to the cursory of love the three had shared.
It was times like those that the boy wondered how such a man was graced by the presence of an angel.
A woman with raven curls that framed her heart shaped face and burnished amethyst eyes that Enjorlas inherited. She'd fallen for Claude who'd captured his heart and spoke volumes to her faith that was rarely the first edition. Éponine, then, an adolescent, had become ragged, haggard, and hoarse due to drinking, and was prematurely aging due to living in debauchery and poverty. But she made life worth living and every day on the Isle a new adventure.
But the Lord always chooses the most beautiful of flowers to pick and he did just that…leaving the child with a man who didn't want a hyperactive brat that defied his grooming at every turn. Well, until he found that pain was a good educational teacher.
"Your blatant disrespect is deleterious to the congregation of the lord." Frollo took a step causing Enjorlas to shrink back even more in fear and anticipation. The man may be well into his late fifties, but at he commanded a strength that struck enough fear to allow him to walk down the streets of the Isle unscathed at night. "Were not for the beneficial request on your behalf I'd have you iron bull to expiate your sins."
Iron Bull?
He had no doubt that judge Frollo to see his child birth hapless event, but to go as far as burn him alive...his eyes widened at the prospect of violent death met inside of a metal bull with a fire beneath it. To suffocate as a fastidious man watched in contempt.
But then it clicked.
"A request on my behalf?" he parroted the question deny the hope that entered him coupled with fearfulness.
Claude Frollo was a mendacious man with obdurate practices and cold eyes, I was calculating and could spout praise and revere with the same mouth he condemned those to hell with pejorative statements. And now? The tyrannical Minister of Justice of planning the greatest cooked yet since the fall of Babylon, and all he needed was for the recalcitrant teen to mutter several need words...
"Who requested?"
The Gypsy executioner smiled coldly as weary eyes watch them was solicitous trepidation, but it would not matter; the boy ate out of his hands as much as his wanton mother had.
"Auradon." the Minister of Justice felt the bubble of try and lift his spirits at the sight of those doe like onyx eyes. "You, are a neophyte of our Saving Grace because of the stilts you have been surrounded by your whole life to my: Teachings have fallen on the deaf ears of miscreants but that will change."
"Wha-What do you mean?"
But the judge doesn't answer the silver-haired Teen. No, instead he throws the keys to the shackles in front of the boy and turns back to the cell door.
"Clean yourself; will be having company soon." And with that Claude Frollo effectively dismissed himself to my car leaving Enjorlas to ponder just what that perfidious man was up to now?