In the blizzard there was no way to know which direction to go, the usual landmarks were hidden behind the white that swirled so densely. Even the squire, Tristan, in front of her was little more than a crude outline of a human mostly erased by the storm. The soft crystals she would have found so bewitching from the other side of a pane glass, found their way into her cloak in every possible way. They packed down her neck and between the fabric that flapped at the front. She could feel her blood cool and her skin become icy. They shouldn't have come, not in this weather. Disorientation was a given; and the cold was a killer. Renee cried out for Tristan to turn but the wind carried her voice faster than she could speak. The world was being erased around her, and she'd be with it if they didn't find shelter...

Renee, in a strange sense of hypnotism, seemed drawn to the frozen River Seine. She did not know why she was so drawn to this place.

The water that had run so freely in the failing light of dusk was now trapped in icy form, beautiful under the glare of the moonlight, but as solid as the frozen ground under Renee's boot. Unbeknownst to the young woman, Jehan's squire, Tristan, watched the night weather and scrutinized the River Seine with a careful, suspicious eye. He had sworn an oath to protect the cathedral and her parishioners, and he was not about to leave his love out here unattended and alone. No one feature made Tristan quite so handsome, but the soldier's eyes came close enough. Parisians often spoke of the color of eyes, as if that were of any importance as if that were of any importance, yet his would be beautiful in any shade.

From them came an honesty, an intensity and a gentleness that the other soldiers in Phoebus's ranks. Perhaps this was what was meant by being a gentleman, not one of weakness or trite politeness, but one of a good spirit and noble ways. What Tristan was, what was beautiful about him, came from deep within. As each year passes, and he continued to age, the lines deepened upon his still taut and smooth face, and he was more handsome still, as if his very soul shined through his skin, and his gentle, white, brilliant smile. Tristan de Marten was fitter looking than most of the villagers in the story ever expected. His face told of a lean body beneath his wintry garb, and his expression was often serious but not unkind, especially not to Renee Barreau. Tristan shivered as a gust of cold wind blew through the air and tousled his dark locks. He ungloved his left hand and reached out to touch, recoiling as soon as he made contact. He let out a hiss of pain and jerked his hand back. It was not just ice. No, this was unnaturally cold. The kind of coldness that left him unable to warm up without retreating into the safety of his home or of the cathedral. While the snow was pleasant to look upon at first, it would simply be whiter falling from the dark gray skies. After what felt like hours of waiting, the fair Renee arrived, clad in a beautiful dark green dress and a dark blue cape. She had not yet noticed that he had followed her out here.

Tristan liked to see the woman's gray eyes light up at the sight of the snow falling. The soldier sighed, thinking that it was not fair that the young woman's hard life was not her fault, but rather, the fault of the Frollo family. Almost as if she could sense him looking, Renee Barreau glanced up from admiring a beautiful red cardinal and waved. The young woman's once fiery eyes seemed doused in ice water, unnervingly making the gray paler. It was like she had drifted into a shell, so touch to reach. The soldier resented the fact that the woman had grown up into such a hard life. Thanks to Sisters Alice, Jeanne, and Maria, the gossip hounds of Notre Dame, they had revealed to Tristan (and to anyone else who would listen) that Jehan Frollo had taken a keen interest in their young refugee.

This news did not sit well with Renee. It was how Renee got her self-induced scars. But what hurt the young woman the most, he believed, was the insecurity. The internal brokenness that only a person exposed to abuse could ever experience. The mental scars were a tapering factor in the serenity of Renee Barreau's domestic noble life when she'd lived with the Frollo's. They caused agony that could only be seen on the inside. The pain that only Tristan seemed to care to notice, because, well. No one else, except for perhaps the cathedral's bell ringer, cared. The stories and troubling accusations that Renee told the nuns whenever they thought to ask only grew worse as more time passed, the more they learned. There were nights, she would claim, when she would lie awake.

Not able to sleep, to dream, to do much of anything at all except stare.

"Mind the ice!" Tristan called out harshly over the fierce winds as he watched the young blonde tread lightly across the frozen surface of the River Seine towards the spot where Renee had noticed a flock of cardinals.

Tristan stopped. The River Seine was strange. The ice wasn't flat like it should be, but rather it was broken. "More like the bark of a tree," the soldier mused. In the cracks, the water was discolored, more like glacial melt water in its brilliant blue. He crouched down to detect the aroma, it was like nothing he'd ever smelt before, not bitter not sweet, not like pollution. Taking a stick, he poked at the ice and it was as solid as it looked. Tristan dipped the stick into the water, and it moved in just the way it should, only slower. The ripples radiated out as the young man expected, but almost as if in slow motion. He took his eyes off the water and stood up, listening and watching. All was quiet tonight on the Seine. Too quiet, he thought darkly. Hardly even a breeze in the trees. Tristan chuckled turned to say something to the woman of his affections when he heard a splash. Whirling around, his blood quite literally went cold at what he saw. A cracked piece of ice in the middle of the pond, and a hole just the size of a young woman in her twenties. "Oh, damn it all!"

Not caring if he too fell in the Seine, Tristan bolted towards the point of the origin for the accident. For Renee, she had only cared about what was above her, trying to see what she could, admiring the beautiful cardinals.

The colors of the Seine around her swirled and clouded her vision, leaving nothing but white spots. She let out a startled cry as she realized nothing was happening as her foot had faltered, and she'd slipped on the thick ice. The ice broke beneath her boots: cold water, no breath, no pain whatsoever. The evening winter's moonlight that was only seconds ago so strong was now a blur. Her arms flailed against the icy water that stole heat from every part of her skin. Her head hit the ice. Bubbles brushed her cheek. One hand found the gap, shooting into the wintry air, hoping Tristan or Adam would see it. Renee a little before asking her body for one final push for the light. Darkness and icy coldness enveloped her completely. The water closed in around her, filling the young woman with a sense of panic and deep dread. She held her breath as long as she could, too long, in fact. Red and black splotches danced in front of her and she could not remember if her eyes were open or closed. The coldness she had felt upon entering the water was completely gone. A desperate hot wave had come over her, warming even her frosted toes in her now drenched, icy, and probably ruined, brown boots.

Her heart was beating rapidly in panic. The urgency for air was more apparent than ever. There were not red blotches in her field of vision anymore. It was all black, nothing but darkness. He opened her mouth, gasping for air, and then nothing. Poor Renee moved her arms like she was climbing rocks, but it was only ice water around—water that washed around her body, preventing access to precious air. After only a few seconds of being completely submerged, her brain was in full panic mode, there were no coordinated movements, just clawing through the thick liquid that threatened to invade her lungs. From her lips came an explosion of air bubbles, moving away from her at a peculiar angle. Renee almost realized she wasn't facing upwards, that she was struggling perpendicular to the surface, that she could, if she strained to listen, almost faintly hear Tristan and Adam's shouts above. Already, her thoughts were groggy. Her limbs slowed, stopped, and she began floating in the ice water of the lake like a limp child's rag doll. That was when he saw him. Jehan Frollo, swimming upward from beneath the icy depths of the River Seine to pull her down with him, to drown her in this icy, watery grave. But she knew it was only a vision, one that her mind had created to ease the painful death of drowning so horribly and unexpected like this, but it seemed so…so real. Even if she was to die unceremoniously like this, she knew Jehan was no angel of death. She briefly wondered if Jehan was tasked with lighting the way to the dimension the departing soul would be bound to for their next life. He swam toward her. But then Jehan seemed to pause, eyeing Renee completely submerged in the water much like a curious dog would look at something it was not sure if it could trust or not, and if it was deciding whether she was safe to eat. A brilliant shade of brown met her own, though her vision was fading and fast, and a wrist—was it Tristan's or Adam's?—grabbed onto her wrist, and slowly, Renee was towed up towards the night life above, back to her real life, to where Quasi waited for her back home in the warmth of their tower.

Her body shook so violently on the ice as she was pulled out of the icy water that she could not form a coherent thought due to the incessant chattering of her teeth and how soaked through to the bone that Renee was. Her stomach contracted so violently, she didn't even care who it was that had saved her and was watching her suffering as she retched up the water that had only moments ago filled her lungs and threatened to drown her. Her lungs drank in the freezing air in noisy rasps and again, the hands came, urgent voices—did the voice belong to Tristan? Jehan? Or was it Adam? She did not know. Instructions. Someone, probably Tristan, was telling Renee to stay awake, not to go to sleep as the young soldier hurried wrapped his cloak around the young woman's violent, convulsing form. The soldier was talking to her, asking her what the hell had happened. "S—slipped," she mumbled, casting her eyes downward, not wanting to meet Tristan's gaze. Begrudgingly, she had to admit that she owed him her life.

Tristan said not a word at first, wrapping the young woman in a warm swaddle of blankets and then embraced her into a tight embrace, a hug.

Renee, at first startled and shocked by the sudden gesture, quickly returned the gesture, not sure what else to do in the moment. Tristan wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her back in small circles. Despite the heaviness and the icy feeling in the pit of her stomach, it fluttered a little at the selfless act Tristan had just performed. Despite their differences, the man had saved her life. For that, she owed him. She sunk into the warmth of his side, appreciative of the simple gesture.

His touch made the air a little warmer somehow, and she was grateful.

"What happened, Renee?" Tristan demanded hotly, his voice hard and rigid, his facial muscles tense, and his left eye began twitching randomly.

"S—slipped," she repeated hoarsely. Suddenly, her throat hurt. "You…saved…me," she whispered through the continued incessant chattering of her teeth. Renee bit her lip to keep from biting her tongue off and fell silent as the young soldier grasped her by her elbow and wrenched her to her feet, draping an arm over her shoulder and supported most of her weight. "Th…th-thank y—you," she managed to gasp out.

"What were you thinking?" he snarled, his brows furrowing in a concern state as he scowled, regarding the young woman as he, upon seeing that she could no longer walk as her frozen state had thrown off her equilibrium, he gingerly lifted her in his arms and began to carry her bridal style back to the safety and warmth of the cathedral. "Didn't I tell you to mind the ice?" If Tristan was being honest with himself, he did not like how the young woman in his arms looked. Her lips were tinged blue, her face stark white. Dark circles had begun to form underneath her eyes as the cold wind moved in to meet the warmth of the young blonde's blood, as well as Tristan's, their only defense against such ice and chill aside from their clothes, though Renee's were currently soaked through to the bone and would do her no good.

If he did not get her back to Notre Dame soon, she would freeze. Both Renee and Tristan felt the cold wash over their skin, again and again, only to be met by the beating of their hearts, again and again.

The truth was, as hard as it was, given the soldier was now supporting her weight, if Tristan kept moving and doing what he could to keep the bell ringer's girl safe and warm, then they might both make it out of this alive.

They would win this battle. The ones who stopped were the ones who froze to death. There was a shriek from the trees that startled poor Renee, whose nerves were already frayed from her near-death experience of drowning. Tristan noticed and gave her shoulder a tender, encouraging squeeze. "Don't look at it," he advised. "It's just a branch twisting under the weight of all this ice," he grumbled darkly, keeping his eyes cast warily to the trees, but then his attention was drawn back towards the woman in his arms. But Renee could not help but be drawn to it. Something about the snowy path back to the cathedral rendered her speechless and unable to look away from its almost blindingly white hue. It was so…so…well…white. Staring at it was like staring at nothing, and to stare at it, she imagined herself engulfed in the vast loneliness that was this frigid storm. Oh, why had she ventured out? Had it been to escape Tristan? To clear her head. Why? Now, look! "Q—Quasi's g—going to…kill me," she whispered, still struggling to reign in control of the chatting of her teeth. She glanced down at her dress and cloak, both of which as well as her boots were soaked through to the bone, frozen. Under a pitch-black sky, the colors of the world became dull and muted, and yet…there was something about the pathway back to Notre Dame that rendered it beautiful, at least in Renee's eyes, it did. The path sparkled and crunched, like sugar underfoot, and the coldness of the woods brought the young blonde into life right now, into this beautiful, chilling moment of life. The trees showed their lofty arms once more, a smile playing upon Renee's freezing lips, which were now still tinged a slight blue color.

A fact that troubled Tristan greatly. "Come on," he urged, shifting her against his chest closer for warmth, finally reaching the top steps of Notre Dame, where, he was not at all surprised to see him waiting for her.

Despite their differences and judging by the fact Captain Phoebus stood near the man, they had been sitting out here on the steps for quite some time, waiting for her to come back. Tristan frowned. He thought surely, given how the boy seemed to care for the girl, he'd have looked for her.

"My God," Quasi moaned, having eyes only for Renee, rushing down the steps halfway to meet Tristan, not even waiting to lift her from his arms.

"She fell in the Seine," Tristan sighed, feeling his muscles tense, fully preparing for another one of the bell ringer's outbursts. The man's red hair was disheveled. He was looking livid, but as he looked at Renee, his rage seemed to dissipate. Quasi glanced towards Tristan, a muscle in his jaw twitching. His brown eyes narrowed, but what he said next surprised the man.

"Thank you," he said at last, though he seemed to say it with great difficulty.

Too stunned to respond to the expression of gratitude, Tristan could only nod, trailing close behind as the bell ringer wasted no time in heading inside.

Quasi did not speak too much to Tristan or to Renee as he ushered her upstairs to their tower's loft, bidding Renee sit on a pile of cushions, gathering any extra blankets he could find and working quickly to light a fire. He seemed to have momentarily forgotten the soldier was in their tower, for which Tristan was extremely grateful for.

The last thing he wanted was another beating. The fireplace was their tiny sun for the night, casting long shadows over their tower. The flames curled and swayed, flicking this way and that, crackling as they burned the dry wood. "Yeah, yeah, that's good," whispered Renee as Quasi and Tristan both returned with two extra blankets, draping them around her shoulders. She shivered still, but color was slowly returning to her cheeks and her lips were no longer blue, so that was something, at least. Adam had come to check on the commotion and had been appalled to find the poor girl in such a state so close to death. He sat next to Renee and rubbed her back, pulling her close and helping Quasi tend to the fire.

"What happened? She's so cold," he exclaimed, taking one of her frigid hands in his and rubbing it, trying what he could to rub warmth and get some blood flowing again to her ice-cold flesh.

"S—slipped," she barely whispered through her chattering teeth. "Adam…"

"You fell in the Seine, didn't you?" he asked, blue eyes wide and round.

Teeth still chattering, Renee nodded. It felt so good to feel the fire's warmth at last, even if it was only coming from one direction. She watched, hypnotized, holding out her hands to get just a little more of its gentle heat, loving it as the fire filled her with warmth. The wood fire, blazing lazily sent its warmth and light out into her and Quasi's dimly lit, slightly drafty tower loft, but it did nothing to warm the ice-cold look Quasi was giving Renee. Tristan, in a bold move, decided to intervene before things could escalate. "It was my fault," he began, but the bell ringer held up a hand, ignoring him, seemingly only having eyes for Renee, who hadn't stopped shivering since they brought her inside. He also chose to ignore the dark warning look Adam shot him, who had noticed the growing danger in his brother's eyes and shot out an arm in front of Renee to protect her.

When Quasi found his voice, his tone was clipped and hard. Angry.

"What were you thinking?" Quasi growled lowly, balling his hands into fists, clenching and unclenching them as he struggled to bite back the worst of his temper. Letting out a haggard sigh, he collapsed onto the cushion next to Renee and draped yet another blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Renee could see it in Quasi's blue eyes, the anger from them showed the scared man within, the man who, at a young age, was taught to obey, and was starved of the love he craved from a lack of parental figures in his life, though he was admittedly doing much better these days now that he had her in his life, she could see Quasimodo's pain beneath his eyes and his soul drowning in the hard person he had been forced to adopt to survive Claude Frollo as the only father figure in his lonely existence.

"I…I'm sorry, Quasi. I—I should have told you where I was going," she mumbled, her hoarse voice barely above a whisper as she tried her hardest to avoid Notre Dame's bell ringer's piercing icy-blue stare that threatened to burn a hole in the back of her skull.

Quasi, though she hated to admit it, at times had a talent for making her feel uneasy whenever he was upset over something. Renee had always hated that ability, like he possessed the means to see past her eyes and could bore deep to the very depths of her soul and shook her to her core.

Quasi swallowed his anger when it was merely a fire-seed and forgot to drink something cold, so it grew within the pits of his stomach until it came out as hot as any dragon had ever flamed, just like in the stories, on the person he loved and cared for the most. Her. Renee wrapped the blanket tighter around herself and swallowed the lump forming in her throat as she visibly winced and cringed away from her friend's burning rage. It seemed to hiss through his body like a deadly poison, demanding a release.

Still, Renee forced out yet another apology if she thought it might diffuse the worst of the tension in their tower loft. If tension were a color, the air would have been scarlet as Quasi pulled up another chair and dragged it noisily across the wooden floorboard, gingerly helping her to sit up in the chair. "I—I know I should have told you where I was going, and it was after curfew and it goes against what you and I talked about, but I couldn't—"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE RULES!" Quasi bellowed, the last vestiges of his patience with his friend finally breaking. His knuckles were white as he gripped the arms of her chair and leaned forward, the tip of his nose practically touching hers as she shrank back in her chair as far as she could go. "You—you almost died tonight, Renee, because you did not listen to me!" He felt his face flush hot with anger and shame. Were it not for his carelessness and had he minded his surroundings a little bit better, he would have noticed Renee's absence at dinner in the kitchens with Alice tonight.

"Don't talk to her like that!" snapped Tristan harshly, coming to sit by her other side. "It wasn't her fault. She wasn't minding where she stepped, and she slipped and fell. It was an accident," he emphasized angrily.

Quasi turned his wrath on Tristan. "You. You were stalking her again, weren't you?" he accused, his dark eyes narrowing as he glowered at Tristan. He snorted at the incredulous look in the young soldier's eyes. "Don't think I don't pay attention. I know more about this situation than you think." He couldn't help but read in between the lines of Tristan's comment and felt the all too familiar deep burning feeling warred angrily within his chest and up into his throat. He needed to know the truth. And he needed to know it now, before anything else happened. "Before we go any further," he warned, his tone clipped and sharp, his grip still clutching onto Tristan's tunic. "I have to know the truth. What happened out there? You followed her! Why?" he demanded harshly. "And don't even think about lying to me."

Tristan's own features hardened and settled into a very serious expression. "I know what you are going to ask, Quasi. There's no need for this, my friend. You have nothing to fear from me. I swear it."

He continued to keep the man under his piercing gaze, never letting on that he was going to let this go. "Somehow, I don't believe you."

The dark-haired Frenchman sighed, hanging his head for a moment, then looked up to meet the younger bell ringer's harsh scrutiny head on. "There is nothing whatsoever between us, Quasi. What Renee and I have is purely friendship, nothing more, nothing less. She is like a younger sister to me."

Quasi narrowed his eyes at him in both disbelief and anger. In truth, he did not believe a word that the soldier was telling him. He needed the entire truth. Renee had told him that there was nothing on her side of the agreement, but it was him that concerned the bell ringer. What were this man's true intentions towards his heaven's light, his friend? "She's taken."

"Yes, you've made that perfectly clear," snapped Tristan sarcastically.

"I want the truth, Tristan!" he growled threateningly, leaning into the captain's face and never once breaking eye contact with the man. "Are your intentions towards her noble or not? Or have you just been using her this whole time for your advantage?" he bellowed, fully angered now.

The handsome soldier looked absolutely appalled by his words and suddenly, he was the one leaning in towards him. "How dare you claim that I have nothing but honest intentions? Who the hell do you think—?"

"And what is that?" He was fully shouting now, his breathing heavy and his emotions ranging from fear to pure onslaught. He was fuming.

Tristan pulled away from him then, shaking his head in a sad fashion. "I would have thought it obvious, Quasi. Or have you not the faintest idea of what goes on in that girl's head?" he demanded, gesturing towards the bell ringer's girl with a jerk of his thumb as he glowered at him. "Clearly not!"

"What are you talking about?" His volume dropped to an almost inaudible level, but anger and confusion plain as day lingered in his voice.

Tristan glared at the bell ringer in an equally anger fashion. "It's not my place to say! The answer to your question is right here!" he shouted, pointing a slightly trembling finger towards Renee, whose face paled.

It occurred to Tristan just how much rudeness one must be forced to endure when the other man was taller than you by a couple of inches and had the ability to break every bone in your body in a mere matter of seconds. A chill ran through Renee's blood as she heard Quasi's yell of anguish. A quick glance off the side told her that even Adam couldn't help her out of this one. It would be up to her. It made her shudder as a freezing cold wind of winter would wake someone. Her blood ran cold and a bead of sweat dripped down her face. She sat there on the cushion, swaddled in at least three different blankets, not knowing what to do and too scared to even think of another apology to come to her mind. She was at a loss for words. Quasi regarded the frozen state of Renee Barreau for a moment, before leaning back against his chair and closing his eyes tiredly. The bags underneath his eyes were still prominent and he still appeared very pale. It became clear to them all that he was well on the way to recovery but not out of the woods yet. The sigh that escaped the bell ringer's lips was slow, as if his brain needed that time to process what had, yet again, almost happened to Renee this eve, because of him.

He'd read the letter Phoebus had given him, not wanting to believe such a thing, that she would be capable of taking her own life…because of him.

His eyes remained fixed on the roaring fire, as though he could not hear Renee's feeble attempt to apologize yet again for her foolishness, or her exhausted tone. Quasi let out another weary sigh, this one more of a signal to Renee, and to Adam and Tristan, too, he supposed. Not one of anger or his resolve leaving, but of the level that his tension had reached, thanks to her. He was, in this moment, more like an old kettle, still full even when some of the steam had already forced its way out. Letting out a groan, he wearily rubbed his temples with his fingers, every so often sparing Renee a furtive glance out of the corner of his eyes, watching her, interested. She was terrified of him, afraid of another one of his outbursts.

"I…I'm sorry," he apologized, sounding pained. "I just…it scared me this evening, what almost happened to you, sweetheart," he said reluctantly. "You weren't at dinner, so I waited outside for you. Had I known you wanted to go for a walk, I could have gone with you!" he exclaimed angrily. He irritably brushed away something Adam said under his breath.

Sensing the two needed to be alone to hash this out, Adam grabbed Tristan by his arm and shoved him forward slightly towards the stairwell.

"F—Tristan," Renee stammered, her gray eyes suddenly lighting up with a ferocious intensity that Quasi was not sure to make of in her. "He—he saved me, Quasi. I don't know how or why b—but he did. I owe him."

Quasi said nothing in response. He merely furrowed his brows into a thoughtful frown, lost in Renee's words. She seems to trust him, but I can't. She was resilient, he would give her that. She seemed to hold out hope for Tristan, that he could change, and get away from the harsh life he had seemingly created for himself by becoming a squire.

Quasi highly doubted it, but who was he to deny Renee of that hope that perhaps someday, he might? "Did he?" he asked, careful to keep his tone as neutral as possible. Not giving her a chance to respond, Quasi sighed and fetched her a bowl of soup in a chipped wooden bowl. It wasn't much, but it would have to do for now. Renee's blue eyes grew wide and round at the sight of the bread loaf he brought over for the two of them to accompany their steaming bowls of soup. It was a hearty-looking loaf with nuts and raisins, probably from the baker's a village or two over, for he knew the old baker down the street could not make such a delicacy in his old age. Such a treat cost more than Quasi could spend on grain rations in a week. Just its aroma should have been enough to transport Renee back to a time of happier memories, before Jehan plaguing her days and nights, before Tristan stalking and hounding her every move.

"I—I d—don't believe him to be so cold," Renee chattered, taking a bite of hot soup and wincing as the practically scalding bite scorched her tongue.

"Careful," he muttered sardonically. "It's hot." Were this any other circumstance, he would have been gentler towards her, but he was still angry with her. She had disappeared and had, as a result, not only risked her own life and almost drowned.

Renee frowned as she shoveled another bite of broth into her mouth, ripping off a chunk of bread from the loaf with her teeth. "Quasi?"

He merely grunted in response, still clearly annoyed with her.

"You can yell at me," she whispered timidly. "Scream if you want. But…"

"Talk to me," he finished, already knowing what she was going to say. "Are you all right? I…you know why I'm mad?"

"Yes," she whispered, nodding. Another cold chill traveled down her spine and she wrapped the thick woolen blanket around herself tighter for warmth. Renee glanced up from her bowl of soup and studied her friend's face, what little of it she could see in the dimly lit tower loft.

The candle on the carving table nearby flickered, thought that was slowly dwindling down to an ember. Renee could not see the laughter in his eyes or a smile twitching at his lips. Instead, for just a moment, he appeared almost skeletal, deranged. His eye sockets lay as empty pools of water, the weak yellow and orange glow from the light only illuminating enough to make him spookier than the darkness alone could ever be.

"I'm sorry. Next time I go, you go too," she promised, clutching his hand in hers, settling it on her lap. "I promise. I—I should not have yelled at you." Renee fought hard to stay awake as he pulled her close, gingerly rubbing her shoulder and trying what he could to warm her body.

The taxing events of her little slip into the River Seine soon caught up with her as Quasi's soft, tenor-like, bell toned voice grew fainter as their conversation came to an end. She felt this strange blackness come over her. Like a blanket, but not a blanket of warmth, but a blanket of coldness making her shiver. Her fingertips still tingled, though whether it was from the icy frigidness of the river or from where Jehan had touched her in the water and had tried to drag her down to her watery grave below, she didn't know. But somehow, it was making her eyes feel heavier and heavier. Renee finally fell into a deep, dreamless sleep at last, nestled against Quasi's chest. Quasi watched Renee Barreau cocoon herself in the thick of the three woolen blankets he'd wrapped her in, nestled by the fire, content to sleep against him. As he watched her sleep soundly, her chest rising and falling to her own rhythm, the man was suddenly hit with a feeling of great unease for Renee. Dread crept down his spine like a careful spider leaving a trail of silk. He felt her feet on his skin, descending until he was almost frozen to his chair. His stomach was full of lead, his mind worryingly empty, save for one thought.

He could not shake the feeling that Renee was in danger. But from what, he did not know, and the fear he felt for her was making him calm, and that was what scared him the most.


The next day was a rather sordid affair, with Quasi not speaking to Renee much. Renee knew he was still angry with her for what she had done, wandering off and telling no one where she was going. Quasi was a stubborn man, stuck in his ways and she knew there was very little anybody around him could do. Which was why she had immense respect for Captain Phoebus, who seemed to hold out hope for the man, and for her as well. As Renee continued to ruminate, she felt her hand drift to the pocket of her favorite brown linen robe, a gift from her mother. Amazed, she pulled out a crumpled but still beautiful lily.

The ache of losing her mother so suddenly over the last week had not healed. Renee began to wonder if it ever would. Touched that the flower had somehow survived this long, she stared at the simple flower in her hand, her eyes drifting to another bunch of lilies near an unmarked grave. Sighing, she gingerly placed the flower near the tomb. No doubt, the grave had once belonged to a woman, she could tell by the arrangement of flowers. As she continued to ruminate, she was reminded of the story of Tristan and Iseult she had just finished.

"'Apart the lovers could neither live nor die, for it was life and death together,'" she whispered, eyeing the small bundle of lilies at the foot of the grave. 'When King Mark heard of the death of these two lovers, he crossed the sea and came into Brittany; and he had two coffins hewn, for Tristan and Iseult, one of chalcedony for Iseult, and one of beryl for Tristan. And he took their beloved bodies away with him upon his ship to Tintagel, and by a chantry to the left and right of the apse he had their tombs built round. But in one night there sprang from the tomb of Tristan a green leafy briar, strong in branches and in the scent of its flowers. It climbed the chantry and fell to root again by Iseult's tomb. Thrice did the peasants cut it down, but thrice it grew again as flowered and as strong. They told the marvel to King Mark, and he forbade them to cut the briar anymore.'" She paused, letting the lily fall to the ground at her feet.

"That they did. What are you doing here?" shouted a man. Renee let out a scream and turned around, accidentally twisting her hand and hitting it against the railing of the gate as she clutched onto it for support, causing her to wince and cry out in pain. As she looked up, her eyes widened in fear. Notre Dame's bell ringer was glaring down at her through the darkness, his dark cape billowing in the wind as he glowered at Renee angrily.

Now she was really in a serious spot of trouble. Renee had never appreciated the use of the word 'monster' to describe a man that she considered a friend. It seemed far too ridiculous a word to use for someone who was still very much alive, and one who now sought for peace and prosperity above all else. His old life was behind him, naught but a distant memory these days. Staring at him now, however, with his dark silhouette towering over her against the moonlight streaming down his back, she could think of no better word for the young man. "Have you gone deaf? I asked you a question!" Renee shirked away from his touch as he fumed in his anger pacing the graveyard, not out of fear, but because she was still recovering from his sudden appearance and was ill prepared to respond. Without giving an immediate answer, she hastily began to pull her trapped wrist through the black railing, wincing at the throbbing pain and the scraped skin on the top of her palm.

"I—I was just…" stammered Renee as she got up, but he interjected immediately. Judging by his tone, it was out of impatience and anger at seeing her out here.

"Trying to run away from me? Why?" he snarled through gritted teeth, folding his arms across his chest, glaring at her. Her movements stilled as she looked up in astonishment. His eyes glinted in the dark, his voice almost dull and lifeless in nature. Although she could not see his face, she sensed that Quasi not angry, but instead bitter. But at what? Renee wondered. Stepping forward in the hopes of rectifying the situation, Renee opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a creature not far away, howling in the night air.

Its haunting voice echoed across the thicket as the breeze picked up speed and grew an ominous voice of its own. "Damn it," he snarled hoarsely. "I know that sound. Dogs, and not the good kind," he groaned, his eyes alert as he looked beyond the border of the graveyard, just barely hidden. "I know those hounds. Jehan's."

Renee let out a groan, clutching the bars of the iron gate tightly.

Jehan Frollo had been a thorn in her side ever since she got here.

She had at first been tempted to dispose of the man himself, but…

Quasi wouldn't want you to, her voice inside her head finished.

Renee opened her mouth to retort, but didn't get a chance as an ear piercing whistle, one she knew belonged to Jehan, shattered the silence of the night, following a howl from some creature, most likely a wolf or a hound bred for one thing and one thing only: hunting their prey. A blur of white flashed in the sides of her peripherals and suddenly, another figure melted into the darkness. She could not see what was happening around them, it was all too fast, but the dogs had cornered Quasi and one had bitten his arm. He'd killed them all.

But at what cost? Her voice taunted her. His own life? And then?

"Oh, shit, oh, God, what do I do?" she whispered, raising a hand to her mouth as she assessed the severity of the bell ringer's wounds. The ripped flesh was grotesque, his arm bleeding, but he would most assuredly life, if she could get help. "Here, help me, can you walk?" she whispered, draping his arm over her shoulder and hoisting them both to their feet. "Help me, Quasi, walk with me. I can't get us back on my own, you need to help me. Please, Quasi, I'm begging you. Walk."

So, he did.


Poor Renee and Quasi had to endure the wrath of Sister Alice when they returned, who shot the pair dirty looks as she helped Renee bring up buckets of hot water to one of the spare cloister cells, of which she had scooped out from the cauldron. The girl had startled her and Sister Maria while they had been preparing dinner, chopping up leeks and salted beef for a makeshift stew when the midwife had burst in through the doors, heaving and trying to catch her breath, begging for help. Occasionally, Alice would shoot the pair of them a seething look, muttering under her breath, things like, "…Don't know what you were thinking of. You two were lucky you weren't killed! Both of you, you'd think you didn't have brains!"

"Yes, we do!" snapped Renee angrily, unable to help commenting.

Alice slammed down the bucket of hot water, almost spilling the water onto the tile in the process. "Then why don't you use them? How about trying not going out in the dead of night after curfew, and now that we know the younger Frollo boy is after the girl, well…"

The nun sniffed her disapproval, looking down her nose at the pair of them, but made no further comment, turning her back from them.

Renee hastily wrung out the wet rag she had dipped into a bucket of boiling water, courtesy of Alice as the nun assisted with whatever she could, helping the younger woman carry him to his tower and into his sleeping nook, gathering extra blankets. "Go on, Alice," she encouraged kindly, having eyes only for her friend, whose jaw remained rooted and hard, his eyes cold. "I can handle him."

"Are you sure, child? Take up him to the south bell tower, the boy has a spare room there he said you could use. It'll probably warmer up there too," she said, but she took one look at the man she considered like a son to her and knew better than to ask a second time. Casting an apprehensive glance back over her shoulder, she shot the young girl a worried look, but could not help but feel a sense of pride in Renee Barreau. If anyone could handle their bell ringer's temper, it was her. "Yes. I will be fine, Alice. Thank you. And you," she added, turning towards Quasi and shooting him an angry glower. "Hold still," she commanded firmly to Quasi once Alice left. "This might sting a little. Don't say I didn't warn you," she said, uncorking a wineskin of wine with her teeth and pouring it on his arm.

He flinched and gritted his teeth, but it was no use. He screamed. "God!" he bellowed. "What you are doing is the opposite of help!" he shouted. "IT HURTS!" Feeling her own temper swell deep within the pit of her stomach, she was unable to bite back her retort.

"If you'd just hold still and let me tend it, it wouldn't hurt as much!" she shouted, tenderly wiping at his wounds, trying to stich his arm up to the best of her abilities. "Quasi, please just…I need you to be calm. Please."

He shot her a withering look, wincing as she worked quickly with a needle and thread. "I don't need to explain to you why your behavior tonight was extremely foolish. You are intelligent enough to know," he began, hesitating to form his thoughts. His voice was rough and coarse, which strangely put Renee at ease. It gave him a tangible sense of vulnerability, which had been otherwise absent when she had known him prior to the fire.

He observed her precariously from his spot on his cot, little more than a few pillows and blankets on a makeshift mattress through the dim candlelight, as if she were some wild, unstable creature, the irony of which was not missed. "Why did you not alert the cathedral guards, Renee?" he demanded after a silence that lasted entirely too long. He cringed and reached for the flagon of wine, taking a swig to dull the burning pain as she worked.

Renee hesitated, wondering if she should tell him the full truth or not. "I was having trouble sleeping, which is why I went for a walk. It was the full moon, so the grounds were lit. I just…couldn't…"

"Then why in God's name didn't you take someone with you?" interrupted Quasi, his voice worn out and exasperated, as if he were talking to a child. "Or if you can't sleep, better yet, you should have come to me, I would have gone with you, you know this."

Renee would have immediately retorted back, but something about his countenance made her hesitate. "Are you mad at me?" Her voice was soft and timid. Shy, even.

Now it was Quasi's turn to look pained. "How could I be mad at you? I could never stay mad at you, Renee, I just… Are you sure you want this? Me, I mean." he asked, his voice sounding pained, as he dared to meet her gaze. Turning to look at her, Quasi felt something leap out of his chest as he found the enchanting creature looking at him, a rather nebulous expression on her face. Her delicate chin was tilted upwards, as if she wanted to ask a question. For she did not belong…

"Is it so wrong to care for someone?" she asked at last, feeling her voice go soft and quiet. Quasi's gaze turned to that of alarm as he stared at Renee, and he felt once more his heart pound into his chest, and something swell within him. Hope. Yet again, it had happened, and this time he recognized it for what it was. That she had unmistakably, unwittingly perhaps, caught him again. He could do nothing but stare up at her from his spot on his cot stoically, trying to look at the source of his discomfort as passively as possible. Not such an easy feat when it came to Renee. She tried again, her blue eyes sparking with a new intensity. "Is it so inappropriate for you? I can see that in your eyes, in your own special way, there is perhaps a small part of you that cares for me. You saved my life. That is no small feat. I do not believe you to be so cold, Quasi. After all, you saved me from those dogs when you could have easily let me die and saved yourself. Yet here you lay, conversing with me, however angry you might be. You do care." She spoke the words so plainly, in such a conversation tone, that Quasi almost wondered whether she was playing trick on him. "But you will not let yourself feel it."

As he gazed heavily into her eyes, however, which were beginning to show signs of regret at having spoken so open, he knew she was naïve, but in more ways than one. She had no idea, no concept of the effect that she had on him, absolutely none. She did not understand that for him, this was not normal. "I am a monster, Renee. Why do you like me?"

"I don't think that," she said lightly, reaching out a hand and laying it on his uninjured arm. She gingerly uncurled his fist and intertwined her fingers with his. Her hand touching his began to tingle slightly, as if the man had somehow left something within her. Something that was never going to go away for her. Something new. Quasi could no longer resist the burning question that was on the tip of his tongue. He had to know.

"Renee," he said hesitantly, closing his eyes and steeling his nerves, taking a deep breath. "Do you think that you could ever be happy with me, if I were to leave behind this life?"

She smiled. "Yes," she said, hesitating.

"What do you think of me? Honestly?" His question caught Renee off guard and as she looked down at Quasi, she felt her heart hammering rapidly and without a swift response to offer to him as he stood, groaning at the pain in his arm. He recognized her discomfort and hastily rephrased his question, silently cursing himself as he picked at the bandage on his arm. This was going to scar for sure.

Frowning, she swatted his hand away. "Don't pick at it," she grumbled tersely. "You'll just make it worse." Renee pondered over his question, feeling rather uneasy. She turned away during this process of thinking and rested her head in her hand, glancing up at the rafters of the south tower loft, where, if she looked close enough, she could see the outline of something huge and skulking.

Smiling to herself, she knew what it was. No doubt one of the cathedral's gargoyles. It was rumored the great stone creatures could come alive in the night, silent protectors of the massive cathedral.

People had assumed but had never openly asked her opinion of Quasi. Now the man himself was posing the question, and she felt rather perturbed. Why he wanted to know the answer, she did not know, but he seemed to be asking out of a general curiosity. It did not speak to his character that he was asking for the unvarnished truth. Very few people could directly ask such a question, in fact. Perhaps it was because of this that she decided to respond honestly to him, holding nothing back.

"You have saved my life," she said quietly, still looking up at the stars, the night of the fire emerging within her consciousness. "You have a lack of understanding of the world around you, but you care greatly. You have never dismissed my opinions, but there is an immaturity to your character. You are something of a contradiction. I cannot make sense; therefore, of our first encounter, but now knowing the truth, I am beginning to understand. The contempt I saw in your eyes, the hollowness. I am beginning to understand these feelings were not with reason," she sighed, biting her lip and waiting. "But in the end, you are my friend."

"Renee, I do not hate you, how could I?" he replied, sighing deeply as he stood to walk away from her, much to her protests that he rest.

"Our fight made your feelings perfectly clear," she snapped.

"I'm just…I am a mess, I know. I do not know myself and when I flare up in anger, I do not control what comes out of my mouth, which is irresponsible, I know. I think you must know by now, but what I say is usually anything but sincere. It does not excuse me or my behavior, and I know that. I just…don't know what to do."

Renee nodded, but inside, she felt troubled. He was too volatile, so much; she felt that she could not keep up. Yet, whenever he looked at her and smiled or gently whispered something, it sounded sensitive, in a way that she had never encountered with anyone else before. There was a subtlety to him, which was jarring, because he would fly into fits of rage at the most inopportune of times. It was easy to see how most would have trouble trying to understand his character. She had felt afraid at the beginning when they first met because he seemed so cold, with not a trace of warmth about him. He seemed empty inside and had sought companionship. She stared at him as though she were seeing the man she had known all her life in a new light.

"Your anger, this coldness, it's all directed towards yourself and this world you live in. You did seem like you cared for nothing, as I said before. But I should also say that you did not care for yourself, either," she whispered, reaching for his hand. Quasi did not respond, and Renee knew that he did not want to accept it. Realizing that what she said was not enough, she scooted closer on his cot towards him, even as he glowered at her like a defensive creature ready to sink his claws into her flesh if she dared to come any closer to him now. "You punished yourself," said Renee softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "You still do."

"Really? Why? Because of my looks, I cannot help this is the way I am?" he spat, looking down. He was getting tired, she could tell.

"No. Because you feel powerless, helpless, Quasi," she spoke, inching her way even closer now. "Because you feel like you have no purpose now. Like it or not, Quasi, we all feel like this sometimes."

"Like what?"

Her voice faltered and she realized halfway through her words of reassurance that she had been talking about herself. She did not object as he reached for her hand, gripping it tightly, as though afraid to let go, for fear of never being near her again. They felt the same thing. Wanted it.

"I think you have been burying your pain," she whispered as her thoughts began to move erratically, without care for her own emotions. She did not even know what they were talking about anymore. His hands remained at her sides, gripping her waist almost painfully tight, but she could at the same time feel how gently he was holding her, like how one would hold a fragile egg. Renee frowned as she registered the hurt, she felt inside, but could not understand why she felt so disappointed in herself and Quasi.

"Renee," he murmured, his grip tightening ever so slightly, making her feel warm. "Surely, after what happened tonight…you must know this…" Renee's eyes widened as she looked up. The bell ringer's eyes were still closed as if he were trying to suppress something.

Was he…was he talking about what she thought he was talking about?

"Know what?" she whispered, and he knew she was not all ignorant. Renee had understood the moment she held his hand, she knew he had been expecting her to shudder at it, how cold to the touch his skin was, but she had not. His touch had felt nice. Safe. Warm, even.

All the anxiety he had felt for the past few days had inevitably led them to this moment. If the softening of her eyes was anything to go by, she at least felt something for him, even though he knew, given his behavior, he didn't deserve her love. They were so close now, she was practically sitting on top of his lap, and he found himself feeling nervous, acutely aware of the suppleness of Renee's arms, which he could feel just beneath the palm of his hands. As he looked down towards her lips, he began to wonder whether they had ever been this close before. Glancing back towards Renee, his eyes drifted across her perfect face.

No, tonight she wore a very different expression. It was with painful realization that he recognized that all his fears were true. She did feel that unimaginable thing that had been churning inside him for months, seemingly with no end in sight. Perhaps she was not even aware of what it was, but Quasi knew she would not turn away.

"Don't you know?" he whispered, lowering his voice deeper so that only she could possibly hear. Renee did not respond, she merely began to take deeper breaths as her irises became large, transfixed, and unable to look away from him. He felt as if they were at the edge of a cliff and were about to trip and fall together towards the earth. "I…care for you."

There. He said it. This thing, this unfamiliar feeling that had been building within him for the last several weeks, now out in the open for her to hear. She hesitated, but then a small smile crept onto her face, and he instantly felt relieved as she matched his words, confirming her own feelings for him at last. Lifting his hand slowly, he cupped the woman's face slowly and as he did so, he felt Renee tense slightly before leaning against him, her cheek grazing his palm ever so lightly.

The effect it had on him, however, was anything but insignificant. She was so beautiful to him, why could she not see it for herself? He buried one of his hands in her dark hair, pressing against the back of her skull lightly as he tilted her head upwards to expose her throat. He had always known she was beautiful, of course, from the moment he had first laid eyes upon her, but now, it was as if she were the most beautiful thing he would ever encounter in his life, more beautiful than any living creature or flower. Somehow, he knew right now, in that moment, with that look of fear and wonder and nervousness displayed on her face, that he would never see anything as gorgeous as her again. His hand stilled as he thought of his father. Renee's serene eyes drenched his memory. In the year since Esmeralda had married Captain Phoebus in a small ceremony, he never would have imagined another woman could invoke these old foreign forgotten feelings, yet, here he was, broken, scarred, and beaten, but still feeling. Of course, these feelings were new, but they still held a familiar yet foreign sense to them, like a distant fond memory.

However, he still fought it. These feelings were light and breathless, but underneath it all, there was something dark stirring within him, that "wrong" feeling. It taunted him. Quasi blinked and felt a shift within himself. It was most peculiar. This had been a wonderful dream, if only for a moment, that he might dare to believe a woman would return his affections. He would say what he truly felt about her and hope that it would grant him at least some form of peace. Smiling sadly, he sighed as she leaned forwards. He had, by some miracle, some insane force of God, seduced her; he tried to make himself think it. He knew the truth, by expressing it through words, would wake her and force her to pull away. For she deserved better than him. And yet…

Something about Renee compelled him to keep her by his side, forever, if he could help it. He could not stay away from her. He felt something within himself give way, as if he were finally surrendering to something. He felt his blue eyes turn dark. Without a second thought, he did not say a word as he took her head in his hands. They had gone too far now.

She knew, he could see it in her eyes, but she had no idea the profound effect she had on him. Even if nothing ever came of it, if she decided she no longer wished to be with him, he could not stop from being honest with her. It was like a dam breaking, he had reached his limit and could not go on without going insane. This woman, this almost celestial-like being had caught him in a vice and if he did not do something now, he was going to explode. Cradling her head in his hands, he leaned down and captured her mouth without warning, giving her no time to react or think.

They fit so perfectly; he could not help but let out a content sigh. Her mouth was just as soft as he had imagined and as he lowered his hands down towards her neck and grazed past her collarbones, he felt her fingers grip hold of his shirt, her hands then splaying across his chest.

He had never felt anything so sensual and it was as if everything suddenly became heightened, as if they were somewhere else.

She felt so much, he could feel it, but with inexperience at how to handle what exactly it was that he wanted of her, she knew not what to do next and yet this only caused him to want more of her. Everything was real, the tiny moan he heard her give out was real, her lips against his was real, this part especially so, and he knew, when he felt the tip of her tongue touch as his and he slanted her head and deepened their kiss, that he had never felt anything as intense as this and probably never would again.

That was what she did. If he had thought he had known what true desire felt like before, he must have been dreaming. She lifted her hands to his neck, this time finding purchase in his hair, sending a tremor down his spine. Her movements were unpracticed and raw, it was clear they were both feeling by instinct, but she was everything he thought she would be and so much more. They had not had enough, and Quasi could sense it as he broke their kiss at last, and as he looked down into Renee's eyes, he saw a flame there that had never be present before, which only lured him into pressing his lips further against her cheek before moving down toward her neck just as her eyes closed. The heat from her skin was so overwhelming; he wanted nothing more than to be enveloped by it, to completely surrender to her, if she would allow him. Her arms began to reach around his back and when he felt her press the entire length of her body towards his, he realized if they did not stop it now, it would inevitably lead to something much more dangerous and much more passionate.

But God, how he wanted it more than anything. Opening his eyes, the hazy thought entered his mind as he felt Renee shift against him and despite the thickness of her dress's skirts; her leg ran unknowingly against his aroused skin, which awakened something unknown with himself. Before he lost all his sanity, he tore his lips from her delicate neck and held her at arm's length, forcing her to relinquish her hold on him. As they both stared at each other, their lips parted, and only one single thought ran through his mind right now.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly alive. "Heaven's light," he whispered incredulously, still unable to believe the turn of events the night had taken, bringing her closer towards him so she could hear him. "See what you do to me." Her eyes widened, perhaps finally realizing internally what had just transpired regarding their admission of their true feelings and the release of his curse, his curse being he no longer thought himself a demon. Thanks to Renee, he was a man.

To his surprise, though, she did not let him just walk away from her. She smiled, resting her head against his chest, feeling warm in his embrace against the bitter cold of this tower. She craned her neck upwards to look at him, a fire raging in her eyes. Her lips brushed against his again, not like a tease, but fiery, hot and demanding. She broke apart, pulling back to study his face. She could tell by the look in his eyes that they both seemed to want more. Quasi's gaze drifted to the bodice of her dress, at the line of her breasts, wanting nothing more than to move his hands underneath the layers of fabric and feel her perfect softness. It was a moment before he spoke again. When he did, Renee had lean forward and practically strain to hear. He felt practically bowled over as she pressed her lips against his, her fingers drifting upwards and played with the ends of his hair, sending a tremor down his spine. As he leaned in again gently to kiss her, his hand buried in the back of her hair as she helped him to sit up on the bed, Renee was caught completely unprepared.

She would have thought that after all the hours she'd spent with Quasi, watching him talk, laugh, and frown—that she would have known all there was to know about Quasi's lips. But she could not have imagined how warm they would feel pressed up against her own. Quasi's kiss stole the words she didn't need to say. In that silence, all their secrets were laid bare, all their passions and the spark of love that had existed between us. In that moment, in his love, Renee found her inner strength. One kiss and she knew.

She had the courage to do what needed to be done.


Renee hated that it had come to this, but she felt that she had no other choice. Wringing her hands together painfully in the tavern, she hated the deception, the lies, lying to Quasi, to Alice and Sister Maria, to Phoebus, a decision that involved sneaking out well past curfew to come and send the message she needed to.

She didn't want to do this. But she had no other choice. "You're late," she snapped irately.

Renee lowered the hood of her cloak and shrugged out of the garment; grateful she'd thought to wear her long ivory chemise with the short capped off-the-shoulder sleeves and a deep purple lilac overdress. She'd laced the laces especially tight, showing her slender frame and her curves for him. She knew he liked it that way. He was late, most unusual for the man. Renee sighed and found a table in the darkest corner of the tavern and thought that enough. She'd walked well over forty-five minutes to come to this establishment where no one would recognize her.

In this sleeplessness, Renee was drunk on the silence. For hours, it seeped into her pores, drowsing her mind in its thick toxicity. The usefulness of her thoughts had long since left her, and now she could not believe she was really doing this, meeting him here, of all places.

Renee wanted very much not to think at all, instead she wished she could be absorbed into the darkness the night promised her hours ago. But instead she was here, her wishes meant naught, and the idiocy continued as she found herself in the corner table, waiting. The tavern was, as she suspected, almost entirely deserted, save for the old bartender, and a strange loner lurking in the shadows. The stranger seemed to be sitting up against a moldy wall at the far end surrounded by a thick plume of thick, hazy smoke as he smoked on his pipe, his face obscured by his thick, dark blue navy cloak. Incredibly dark inside, the establishment's only source of light was a few candles scattered on the various windowsills, and occasionally the hot streaks of the lightning outside would illuminate the tavern in a temporary blinding white light, which was how the stranger was able to approach her table without her detecting his presence nearby.

"You came," came the man's gruff voice, sounding amused, and just for a moment, Renee found herself growing highly annoyed. How dare he think that for a second, she was not a woman of her word?

Renee flashed him a flirtatious smile, reaching for her tankard.

"After what happened the last time we met, I presumed you were no longer interested in seeing me," replied the cloaked man as he folded his surprisingly gentle hands and placed them on the rickety table as he sat across from her, lowering the hood of cloak, revealing himself to be Jehan Frollo, still handsome as ever, and charming. Time had been kind to Jehan. His tousled dark hair was still thick and lustrous. His eyes a mesmerizing deep rich umber brown. His face strong and defined, his features molded from granite and marble. He had dark eyebrows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression as he regarded the young midwife sitting opposite him. His usually playful smile had drawn into a hard line across his face. His perfect lips, ripe for the kissing as she had done once upon a time, and more besides, Renee watched as his smile etched his way back onto his face. "What made you change your mind about me, pet?"

Renee inwardly flinched as her gaze drifted upwards towards the scar above his right brow that she had caused a few years ago during that fateful night in the brothel when he'd come to see her, and only her. "Yes. Well. I have a bit of a problem and I thought of you."

Jehan grinned, revealing brilliant white teeth, though in this dim light, his smile looked wolfish, predatory, almost. "Love women and their problems," he teased, leaning back against the booth. "Hit me."

"You are the problem, Jehan," snarled Renee through gritted teeth, and in a fit of anger, she drew her knife from the sheath she wore around her waist that Alice had given her on her first night in the cathedral to protect herself, plunging it deep into the wood of the table, dangerously close to his left ring finger. "You hurt Quasimodo the other night with your goddamned hounds. He's lucky to be alive."

"Oh, that wasn't me. Runaway hounds. No control over the beasts."

He feigned innocence, a trait Renee hated in the man, charming as he might be, the man was an asshole. There was no other word for it.

Renee rose from her seat slightly and leaned across the table, aware the man's gaze had drifted downwards hungrily to her blouse.

She leaned in so the tip of her nose almost touched his, her eyes narrowed to mere slits. "No offense, Jehan, but we both know that's a lie. It was you. I recognized your voice, your whistle. What if you'd killed me? You come after Quasi again, I'll kill you." She violently wrenched her knife out of the table, reluctantly sheathing it, never taking her gaze off Jehan's darkening eyes. He was growing angry. "He's not weak, you know. Showing emotion is not weak, and disregarding it is not strength," she whisper-hissed through her teeth.

Jehan smirked, reaching up and cupping her chin in his ringed hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Are you talking about the other night, what happened in the graveyard, pet? I—I knew he didn't have it in him to let any harm come to you, Barreau. You were safe."

Before Renee had a chance to react, he had slammed his lips to hers and nearly knocked all the wind from her lungs. She hardly had time to process what just happened before he pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips and, against her better judgement, if this was the only way to stay the man's growing madness and keep him going the way of his elderly brother, she allowed him access. It was a sloppy kiss with the strong scent of old wine being exchanged in the intermingling of their breaths. The voices inside her head were screaming at her to shove the man away, stab him before it was too late, but visions of Quasi kept swimming in her vision, refusing to part, and she knew he would not want her to resort to violent means. Renee broke apart as his kiss got greedier. Clearly, it had been a while since his last encounter with a woman, though she knew from Alice that his attentions these days were directed towards her.

She shoved him backward violently, gasping for air that would not come to her lungs. Renee glowered at Jehan, who smirked at her dazed expression and was looking immensely pleased with himself.

"Next time you gamble," she growled lowly as she rose to her feet and turned to leave. "Bet your own life. You come near Quasi again, Jehan, and make no mistake about this, I will kill you."