A/N This story is actually inspired by Cgal the Avenger's "These Violent Passions Have Violent Ends" story. It was the first fanfiction story I read that had mentioned any scars on Claude Frollo's back, due to abuse from his father and it just moved me. I loved the fact that it was acknowledged that he was a victim himself at a very crucial time in his life, which was childhood and how that physical, emotional and phychlogical abuse had very harmful effects leading to his adult life. I wanted to elaborate on this and add his own self harming by self-flagellation and this would denote emotional abuse as well.
Also, as some of you can already tell, I merely use Esmeralda to outwardly express my own fantasies with Claude Frollo ;) (As many fangirls do.) But like I've said before, I try to have situations make sense with the characters themselves. This one, I've just decided to jump into the subject. I've laid out a general idea on how Esmeralda discovers things. But, with an overall back story; just try to use your imagination on how Claude and Esme ended up together in this one. Think of it as a small snapshot of their relationship. I just needed to get this out, as it's been eating me alive inside!
Please review as well. Thanks…Enjoy!
She accidentally witnessed this early on in their rocky start. She could never, from that night forth, forget the image and sounds displayed in the middle of his chambers.
Him on his knees.
The snapping of the whip against his flesh and the whimpering that followed.
The sound of an indiscernible Latin mantra, whispered under his breath, after every assault on himself.
The blood trickling down his nude backside, onto the stone floor, in small crimson puddles.
Esmeralda froze at the display and inhaled. She couldn't process what she was seeing. At first, she wondered if it was actually him and her delusion temporarily made her deny it. This wasn't the Claude she knew…the person before her had to be someone else. But finally the realization set in her bones and it chilled her.
She mindlessly lets out a small exhale and Claude goes stiff at the sound. He doesn't move from his spot and Esmeralda knew she was heard. She knew she was in possible danger of him lashing out at her, he seemed so unpredictable and unstable at that moment. She juggled with the thought of either just speaking or running away. She waits, but does so in a frantic stance.
Claude lowers his arm that held the whip, his knuckles were white from the grip he held, but he didn't let go. His breathing was shallow and Esmeralda could hear the faintness of small restrained cries trapped in his throat.
Both of them held there postures for what seemed like forever. Finally, Claude looked over his shoulder and met her gaze with a glare, but she saw tears. She found her voice, barely managed to get the question out due to the trapping of air in her lungs, because she kept forgetting to breath.
"Wha…what are you doing?" Her voice was just above a whisper, but there was genuine shock.
He didn't answer. He just stared over his defined shoulder at her, with those damp, angry, unreadable red eyes. The most dangerous stare in her experience so far in his presence.
"Tell me." She spoke with persistence in her words.
When he finally spoke, he turned his head away in a high prideful manner. His response was short, disconnected and emotionless.
"Leave me gypsy."
Anger rose within her at his mock elite attitude against her and replied just as fast as he ordered.
"No." She waited with a held breath.
Suddenly, a loud, slow, threatening and impatient exhale was heard exiting through his nostrils. She could imagine them flaring, like an angry bull looking for a glimpse of red to match the rims of his eyes. Esmeralda wondered if she had indeed miscalculated her place in this alien situation.
Her attention was thrown in over drive as Claude clumsily rose and she backed up ready to bolt. But, her stubbornness kept her planted in her spot. Even after he turned to face her, with the whip still in hand. She glanced quickly from his face to his fist and back up to his eyes once more. They were filled with a raw fury she hadn't seen before and she could hear the squeezing of leather against his palm.
"What did you say?" His voice was too calm and too low. It was a menacing tone, a tone she hadn't heard before. She still decided to stand her ground.
"I said, no." Her answer was firm and louder to punctuate her unwillingness to comply with his wishes.
Claude narrowed his eyes, clenched his jaw in anger and proceeded to move towards her. Esmeralda flinched and stepped back a few paces at his sudden pouncing. She didn't want to show him fear, she knew it would only feed his dominance. So, she moved forward as well and he faltered. Her abrupt brazenness made him lose his hold on the whip, it landed in a heap on the ground, next to his blood streaked legs and feet. She noticed this, instead of retaliating, she let her overwhelming need to help take over and it washed away any other questions.
"Claude, please." She begged softly, reaching out her hand to him. He shrunk back even more. His form was a complete hypocrisy to his normal body language of austerity. She could tell he was distraught, in pain and losing too much blood.
"Sta...stay where you are gypsy!" he ordered. The anxiety quickly commandeered over his anger every time she moved toward him.
"Let me help." She continued to offer and received a hiss from Claude.
"I don't NEED your help!" His breathing started to go uneven and he started to sway a bit.
She flinched, but stayed motionless. She was about a few feet away from him at this point and could see details of the condition he was in. His hair was in a disarray from sweat, his skin was pale, clammy, bloody, his eyes were still bloodshot, red and so weary. She knew from the look of him, he hadn't had any sleep. She even wondered if he had eaten recently.
Finally, Claude's legs buckled, he fell towards her and landed on his knees before her. Esmeralda took that opportunity to catch him, holding him up in a hugging position and he didn't fight her. She knew he was too weak. She lifted him to a standing position with the strength of her legs and shoulders, she threw one of his arms around her neck, encircled her arm around the small of his back and they both hobbled to his bed chambers.
Once they were near his bed, she gently set him on the edge and instantly his body went limp. He managed to keep his head up, but his body was swaying so much, Esmeralda had to place a hand on his right shoulder to steady him and only then was she able to look into his unfocused brown eyes. His lids went heavy, she snapped her fingers in his face and he blinked rapidly.
"Claude? Hey! Come on!" He tried to stay at attention. She snapped again and he looked at her coherently enough to instruct him.
"There isn't any other way I can look at your back, unless you lie on your stomach. Can you lift your legs?"
He gave a small nod, but when he attempted, he lost his balance and fell into her. She caught him, wrapped her arm around his neck to avoid his harsh back wounds, she looked down over his shoulder and saw that blood was starting to stain the blankets. He was losing a lot of blood and she was completely unprepared. But, it wasn't the first time she had cleaned or dressed wounds before and she was resourceful.
Claude rested his head at the crook of her neck, unable to move and at her complete mercy. After a minute or two she noticed dampness there and she moved her head a bit to find Claude's tear filled eyes. It startled her, she didn't know what to do, so she did the only humane thing she could think of, she comforted him. She also knew going into panic mode would only make things worse.
Running her fingers through his soft hair soothingly, she ended her careful stroking at the base of his neck, where his hairs were short and prickly against her fingers and palm. She repeated a few times until a small, helpless sob finally escaped his lips and she rested her cheek on his head.
"It's okay…" She spoke into his hair and reassured him softly. She hugged him to her for a short time and she repeated her actions once or twice over and he seemed to go calm in her arms.
He reminded her of a scared, lost child, nothing like the man she was used to seeing. Nothing like the man wielding his power by fear and authority. Nothing like the savior of Paris, upholding the laws with an iron grip. Then she realized, that the truth was right in front of her. His shield was down and she understood why he acted as he did earlier. He was in his most vulnerable state. She knew about that all too well herself, when pride would get the best of her and she wouldn't let anyone in. It was a state that she knew he didn't want anyone to see. But it didn't matter to her, she just wanted to heal his wounds and maybe through this he would confide in her finally. Judging by this, things needed to change.
Claude shifted and brought her back to reality. He tried to sit up, by pushing against her, Esmeralda helped him and he eventually ended up on his side. She was able to lift his legs as he sluggishly moved on to his stomach. It finally donned on her that he had actually been completely nude through this whole endeavor and she didn't even notice due to the urgency of the moment. Any other time, she probably would have been blushing furiously. Once he was settled, she grabbed a spare blanket on the bed and covered his bottom half, out of respect for his current state. She would concentrate on cleaning the rest of him after she was done cleaning and dressing his back. She needed a few things though, she was sure he had what she needed lying around the general area, but she needed to hurry.
She went to work on him and she winced. She couldn't believe how bad it looked. Blood oozed from some gashes and others looked as though they were drying. She could tell, judging by the darkened edges around some of them. Her hand reached her lips and her throat tightened. She kept in a sob, that threatened to release and her eyes glossed over. She reminded herself that she needed to keep it together.
Moving to the head of the bed, leaning towards his face. His eyes where closed, his breathing was slow and she knew that wasn't always a good sign. She scanned his features, he was even paler than before, if that was even possible for him.
She moved her hand to his cheek and ran the knuckle of her index finger softly against it. He roused with a jump, looking at her through unfocused pupils and in confusion as he blinked at her rapidly.
The face that looked back at her looked like someone that was ready to give up. A look that told her that he just wanted to end the suffering. Suffering no one ever knew about and it broke her heart. He seemed all void of hope for himself. But she had to do what was right and she was damned if she would lose him that night by her own hand.
Eventually, she was able to find all the materials she needed. In the process, she cleaned the area where he was caught standing. Wiping away the many drips of blood and removing the whip from its own heap on the floor.
Making it back to his bed, she laid all she collected in their proper places and started cleaning his wounds with a doused cloth of wine and she poured a handsome amount directly on his back. It seemed like most of the bleeding had stopped due to the dried blood caked on the surrounding areas. When Claude didn't react to her ministrations, it worried her and she couldn't tell if he was breathing by just watching his mid-section rise and fall, so she momentarily moved her hands to his face to feel if there was air exhaling through his nose and mouth. When she felt slight warmth coming from both orifices, she suspected that he may have passed out. So, she continued on him.
She had collected her mending basket in hopes to maybe stitch up some lashes. But, it proved to be more difficult after assessing the damage. She was afraid that his injuries would have to heal uneven. After she had closely examined his back, she came to the conclusion that he had done this many times before.
After clearing most of the blood around unbroken skin, she discovered older scars that laid under the new afflictions, they traveled down to the top of his buttocks and seemed to go deeper. She could tell they were old, by the color, she could also tell, just by the size, that these were no doubt made when he was younger…a child even.
In addition to these facts, she noticed that most were done horizontally, rather than vertically and this gave her the idea that someone other than himself had made them. She lightly ran a finger along the length of one of them and she teared up. It was never easy picturing Claude an innocent child and that's where her fallacy laid. She was ashamed at her under estimation. Tears fell free from her eyes and fell to an unknown origin. She stared at her finger, while it massaged the thin abrasion. Before she knew it, her lips were upon his flesh. She softly kissed the scarred surface, as another tear slipped free and landed on his back. She moved her head to the side, facing the upper part of his back, her tears blurred her vision and all she could see was red. She rubbed her cheek against his warmth and she sobbed quietly. Her tears grew in multitude, proceeded over the bridge of her nose and dampened his skin.
"I'm sorry…I'm so…so sorry." She managed to sob out in between small delicate kisses.
After a while, she regained her composure. She rose quickly, took extra cloth that was nearby and dabbed at her eyes and continued wiping away the rest of the blood.
Wrapping cloth all the way around his rib-cage, she was careful not to harm him in the process and tied an experienced knot in a place that wouldn't cause discomfort. She was satisfied that the fabric wasn't being totally saturated and only a few small stains made it through. She would check on it and change it if needed. She stayed at his side all through the night.