Chapter Twenty-Four
Lord Geoffroi pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as he surveyed his youngest's son's latest obsession's current physical and emotional condition with an extreme measure of distaste, his slender, hooked nose crinkled in disgust. He glanced around at the trashed chamber, and the rapidly swelling purple and blackening bruise underneath the girl's eyes, at the remnants of food strewn about the room and snorted.
He knew what had happened here. "Get out, Jehan," he growled angrily. "Get out. I told you that you were never to touch the girl while she is a guest with us. I see, yet again, you have failed to obey my orders."
"Father," began Jehan, but the lord wasn't hearing it.
"Out," he hissed icily. "Now. Wait for me in my study." Sensing the dangerous growing storm brewing in his father's eyes, Jehan thought it best not to argue. He slammed down the cutting knife he'd used on the fine old mahogany desk and strode out without so much as a second glance backward at the distraught blonde, her hands buried in her hands, unable to look her suzerain in the eyes.
Lord Geoffroi waited until Jehan slammed the door behind him before speaking to Madellaine Barreau, hoping his words would be some small measure of comfort to her in her distressed state.
"I am sorry this happened to you," he said at last, reaching for a decanter of red wine and pouring her a goblet. "You want to tell me about that? Or I guess when you're ready, you will, girl. Here." He wordlessly handed her a golden goblet, which she accepted.
Normally, she preferred not to drink, but today she would make an exception. Jehan had savagely beaten her within an inch of her life.
The wine turned down the volume on her thoughts. It brought the memories of good times past, and Madellaine let herself dwell in them rather than think of what had just transpired. And in that moment, she was here and not, existing in two moments. Somehow it steadied her, gave the strength, and resolves to go on.
"I angered Jehan," she sighed, brushing back a short wisp of blonde hair behind her ear. The wine burned her insides and her throat going down, but even she had to admit it felt good. "I refused his…advances, and well…he didn't like it," she confessed, catching sight of her bruise in a mirror across the way and cringing.
If Quasi sees this, he's going to kill him. "But it matters not," she added harshly, a new look of determination in her eyes. "He cannot make me love him. I will never love him, for my heart will always belong to my husband, Grandfather."
Lord Geoffroi nodded, eyeing his young granddaughter as though in a new light for the first time. He poured himself another goblet of wine, not speaking again, merely surveying the young blonde over the rim of his cup as she copied his movements, finally standing to leave. "Wait," he called out, rising to stand next to her. "Come with me. I think I have a way to make all of this better for you."
Madellaine repressed the urge to roll her eyes in front of him.
"Will it make my bruises go away?" she mumbled darkly, catching another glimpse of her reflection, noticing how her bruises would only draw attention to her. People would see her, the real Madellaine Barreau for who she was, in all her glory, and in all her shame and misfortunes.
He chuckled lightly as he led her down the east wing of the estate. "You are strong, my child, much stronger than you would give yourself credit for, mademoiselle," complimented Lord Geoffroi, with some effort wrenching open the wide double oak doors of his private library.
Madellaine was stunned, not knowing what else to say to that. Dust collected everything as far as the eye could see, spider webs wove loosely around books, the shelves dirtied and the ground littered with dirt and grime, broken glass, books, and torn parchment. The dust floated lazily in the air, causing Madellaine and Lord Geoffroi a difficult time breathing, and every step put more of it in the air.
All that was heard were the faint chirps of the birds outside, the scurrying feet of invisible rodents, and the rustling of papers catching the draft. The library was in dire need of a good cleaning. "I apologize for the uncleanliness, milady," Lord Geoffroi apologized, holding a handkerchief to his nose to avoid breathing in the dust. "It's been some time since I've been in here last, but I aim to see this library thrive, my child," he said.
"It's fine," Madellaine said, pinching her nose shut.
"It's been so long since our library has had any good usage out of it, but it's yours now, so I take it you'll see to it these shelves will grow immensely over the next few months. After a good cleaning?"
Madellaine gaped, unable to help herself. "What?" she squeaked, her voice coming out in barely more than a whisper, not sure if she'd heard the lord of the castle correctly. "This library…is mine?"
Geoffroi chuckled at her bewildered expression. "You didn't seriously think I was going to gift this to Jehan, did you? My son has no time for knowledge and books," he snorted. "He prefers instead the company of horses and whores and strumpets, sword fighting over reading. Consider it a birthday gift to you now that you are twenty-one."
"I…thank you, my lord," she mumbled, curtsying in an attempt to showcase her gratitude. She picked up an old leather-bound book, the gold lettering on the covers frayed and peeling. She fingered it carefully with gentle fingers before blowing the dust off and putting it back. "What are you bequeathing me is incredible. Truly. I have no words. This library will be cherished for all time."
"See to it." The lord of the estate opened his mouth to speak further, but didn't get a chance as the sound of the door opened, making a horrible lingering creaking noise that echoed long after it had stopped.
"Father? I heard voices. Whom are you talking to in here?" Jehan's powerful voice echoed and reverberated off the library walls. Madellaine cringed at the harshness of Jehan's tone and immediately ducked behind a large marble pillar to avoid being seen. She had hoped after the fiasco with her haircut as her punishment for daring to talk to another boy without Jehan's express permission, to avoid seeing the man ever again. Geoffroi noticed her discomfort and pitiful attempt to hide from his son.
"You may stay," he said. "But keep quiet," he advised slowly.
She nodded, shrinking further into the shadows, hoping to hide herself from Jehan's view. It wouldn't do to be discovered here.
"May I speak with you, Father, if you have a moment?" came Jehan's voice, uncharacteristically polite, not like his normal mannerisms.
"Of course," Geoffroi nodded cordially. "I know that my decision to have the girl rule in my stead after my passing disappoints you, does it not? Don't bother lying to me. You're a Frollo. It's in your eyes," he said, taking deep strides as he perused the dusty shelves full of old books and tax ledgers.
Jehan blanched and a muscle in his jaw jumped. After a long silence, he spoke at last, his voice quiet and pained. "You wrote to me once listing the virtues of a powerful leader, the makings of a good man. As I read it, I knew I had none of them. But what I have that Claude lacks is ambition, Father." he demanded. When Geoffroi didn't respond, the younger Frollo son took that as his cue to continue. "None of my virtues were on your list. Admit it, Father, you've always favored Claude over me. What is it in me that you hate so much?" he demanded, his voice cracking a little.
"I don't hate you, my son. You are my son, Jehan."
"I begged to God to find ways to please you, to make you proud of me, just like you're proud of Claude. The only thing I've ever wanted was to live up to you, and you cast me aside and shut me out," he shouted angrily, choking back a hoarse sob as his father embraced him in a tight hug.
"You made your choices, boy," Geoffroi retorted.
"I'd—I'd butcher the whole world for you if only that would make you love me!" he sobbed. He pressed a chaste kiss to Geoffroi's thick head of gray hair and ignored him as his father flailed in his embrace, the life force draining out of him as Jehan strangled their father to death. He cried, tears dripping down his cheeks and sniffing every couple of minutes. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this, ever.
Lord Geoffroi flailed and whimpered in Jehan's arms, but his son didn't relinquish his old on his father. Geoffroi grew cold in his arms, so cold.
The life that had dwelt within him was now gone and Geoffroi was safe from the perils of this world. No harm can come to him now. His heart that used to beat with love was now still. Geoffroi's mind that once felt so many emotions were now blank. His body, once a repository, was now an abandoned shell left to rot in the open as Jehan dropped his father's body to the ground, where he fell, slumped over, un-moving.
Madellaine bit her knuckles to keep from screaming, crying silently as tears poured down her face like a damn bursting. If this man could kill his own father in cold blood, then what would he do to her and her unborn child?
Likely no one but her would dare to mourn Geoffroi Frollo and pray for his eternal soul. Cruel though it sounded, once the light left his eyes, Frollo was just another corpse to bury. His soul has moved onto the heavens, and she, the living, and perhaps the only left who cared about him, was left with the task of his burial.
She would pray for the departed, but all of her energy was now going to be spent on the living, more particularly, her. Madellaine had to survive to live with Jehan, no matter what. She felt her tears spill over and cascade gracefully down her cheeks, as she looked into the dead face of her lord, her surrogate father. His eyes stared up at the sky he would never again see.
"You can come out now, darling," called out Jehan coldly. "I know you're there, hiding in the corner. I can hear you breathing. Get out here," he commanded, his tone irate, not to be trifled with.
Trembling, she somehow managed to take the first few steps forward, despite her mind screaming at her feet to make a run for it. But she knew better than to try. Just one look at his face was enough. Jehan would catch her before she could reach the door, and after that, who knew what the hell would happen to her?
"Jehan, what have you done?" she choked out, fighting back her sobs, but it was no use. Seeing Geoffroi lying there, so lifeless, was enough to give her nightmares for the rest of her life. "You killed him," she whispered, in shock. "You did this." I don't want to believe it, but Jehan really did. He murdered Geoffroi.
"He died in his old age of a complaint of the heart," he replied coldly, wiping away the last of his tears with the back of his sleeve.
Madellaine glared at him, hardly daring to believe all of this. "I know the truth, Jehan. You murdered him! What's to stop me from telling anyone? You did this, not I." Jehan's face remained stoic for a moment. He moved so fast she barely had time to process what was happening.
Jehan gripped her delicate wrist in his hands and there was the unmistakable sound of something ripping and popping as the ligaments in her two left fingers as her punishment for daring to talk back to him. Madellaine bit her tongue to keep from screaming, but it wasn't enough. It slipped out before she can stop it. Her scream tore through her like a great shard of glass. She felt her eyes widen and her pulse quickening, her heart thudding like a rock rattling in a box.
The scream came again as Jehan, without a word, popped her fingers back into place. Her scream was desperate, terrified…human. The blood drained from her face and before she was even aware of making a conscious decision, her legs collapsed underneath her and she fell to the dusty library floor, groveling at Jehan's feet.
"He died of a complaint of the heart," Jehan repeated, his dark eyes fixated on hers, her blue eyes streaming with tears from her pain at now having two broken fingers. "You are mine now, to do with as I please, and it pleases me to please you, milady. You will eventually marry me, Madellaine. But you will come to me of your own volition, I will not force you unless I have to, but I already know you'll come to me willingly. Trust me. I am taking over in my father's stead, and if, you are foolish enough to try to tell anyone else what you have seen or to escape from here, I can promise you that you will very much regret it. Am I clear?" He stared, his jaw drawn and taut as he waited for her answer. "DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?" he shouted, his voice echoing.
Madellaine clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white from the effort and she bit her tongue hard enough to draw blood. She jammed her fist into her mouth to stifle her scream. She wouldn't, though the pain from her first broken, now mended two fingers throbbed, screaming for relief.
All she could manage was a nod.
Jehan, satisfied, smirked. "See to it my father gets a proper burial," he snarled, leaving her alone in the library next to her lord's corpse.
Madellaine felt the sweat drench her skin as her forehead began to feel clammy and warm. She felt the throbbing of her own eyes, her ringing screams vibrating in her ears, the thumping of her heart against her chest. Her nails dug into her palm hard enough to hurt. Madellaine felt the air flooding in and out of her lungs as she took in deep breaths, willing herself to remain calm. As much as she tried to hold it in, her pain came out like an uproar from her throat in the form of a silent scream.
The beads of water started falling down, one after another, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. Madellaine tried to scream, but her voice was melted by the sound of the place. The muffled sobs wracked against her chest as she cradled Geoffroi's body in her arms. The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds.
The taste. The smell. Everything was gone. The last painful emotion slammed against her before Madellaine lost the feeling of feeling itself. Everything darkened into nothingness as she stared into the soulless eyes of a man she'd hoped to one day call grandfather.
Hesitantly, her eyes look at the dead corpse before her, the one person in this place that perhaps might have been kind to her, Jehan had killed.
Fear tortured her guts, churning her stomach in intense cramps. Fear engulfed her consciousness, knocking all other thoughts aside for the moment. Her fear overwhelmed her body, making it drastically exhausted. However, most of all, the fear was making her calm and that was what scared her the most. Madellaine's fear was now her shackles, her own prison. Jehan held the keys to her cell to set her free.
But he wouldn't.
The nightmare felt more like a night terror because it felt as if Madellaine might die from the pain in her brain, and she knew she was desperately trying to wake up, screaming for help, yet nobody came. A flash of black appeared out of the corner of her eyes and Madellaine felt her head whiplash sharply to the right.
Jehan! She felt her lips part slightly in a silent scream, feeling her stomach lurched and she bolted upright, quickly realizing that was a mistake as she tasted the bile coating the back of her head. Jehan sat next to her bedside, back up against the rest of his chair as he poked her side with his finger and broke into a charming white smile that did not quite reach his eyes. Madellaine gulped nervously and repressed a shudder.
"How long have you…have you been sitting there?' she whispered, moving to gingerly pull his hand away from her thigh, and instead she found her hands drift towards the scratchy woolen blanket, where her fingers curled into a protective fist around the thick thing, the only barrier between her and Jehan's likely assault of her body, which she wouldn't put it past him to try, given the fuming look in his eyes.
She swallowed as his blue eyes narrowed. Madellaine knew what he was thinking. Here she was. His. Her beauty, her flaming red locks like winter fire.
Madellaine knew Jehan had been expecting her to be screaming and crying at the top of her lungs, begging for someone to come to her aid, to save her from Jehan. But no one was coming.
Jehan shifted in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. Madellaine stared, fixated on his blue eyes. She knew she wasn't going to get the chance to be brave this time. She would be afraid of him one way or the other before the night was out. "You can scream if you want," he drawled lazily, not relinquishing his grip on her thigh on top of the blanket. "But I've ordered no one to come check on you, milady," he said, his tone sounding clipped, hard.
Madellaine found herself unable to avert her gaze from Jehan's and she jumped as a kindling crackled in the lit hearth in the fireplace across the room. She flinched and guilty turned towards it to look. One glance over at Jehan and down at his hand confirmed her suspicions. The edges of his fingers were covered in soot. Dirty. "Y-you lit that fire?"
Jehan rolled his eyes and scoffed, though he finally removed his free hand from her thigh and brushed them on his simple black linen shirt, which hung open slightly to reveal the hollow column of his throat.
Madellaine stared, not even caring that she was staring. However evil the man sitting next to her might be, there was no point in trying to deny that he was a handsome man. She bit her lip and waited for him to speak.
"Yes," Jehan answered. Madellaine flinched at the coldness of Jehan's simple response.
"But…why? Could not have one of the maids done it? You did not need to trouble yourself," Madellaine whispered meekly. "Why?" Jehan had seemingly chosen silence as a response, and this greatly unnerved her. How was she to know what it was that he wanted of her now and what he was going to do to her if he wouldn't even talk to her? Is that his game? Is that it? Madellaine wondered and shuddered as he offered his bride a seemingly genuine smile, kind and almost…gentle.
"Because I did not trust our healer and maester, Ashan, to care for you in the way that you...deserve." His voice, while kind, had a slight edge to it. One she recognized.
Though Madellaine was not fooled. She knew the truth about Jehan. It was a miracle she opened her voice to speak, and nothing came out but a tiny, breathy squeak as she looked around for any sign of Hilda or any of the other maids. "Help," she whispered, glancing around for an escape.
But it was as Jehan had just said. No one was coming to help her. His wolfish, predatory grin merely widened, and she could not help but feel an enormous sense of fear. It paralyzed Madellaine, rendered her frozen to her spot, unable to bolt from her bed and make for her front door.
"No one's coming for you, Barreau. It's just you and me. I think we should have a conversation now that your monstrous husband is dead. I killed him," he answered coldly, his face impassive.
His words chilled her and turned her blood to ice. "No…"she whispered, her voice cracking. "T—tell me it's not true!" she shouted, feeling her tears well in her eyes. "You—you bastard!" she yelled. Madellaine cried like there was too much raw pain inside her to be contained.
She cried like her spirit needed to break loose from her skin, desperate to release an elemental rage on the world. The false concern and the soothing words of Jehan made no difference at all. She was beyond all reason, beyond all natural methods of calming.
Trembling, she lifted her left hand to study her wedding ring and even she could not help but to admire the sheen of the simple yellow gold band that rested on her ring finger. She brought it to her knuckles and gingerly kissed it, as she struggled in vain to blink back her tears. "I...I'm so sorry, beloved," she whispered, her voice cracking. Fuming, feeling her muscles in her jaw lock up and tighten, she turned towards the man who had killed her husband. "Y—you killed him," she sobbed. "What did you do to me? Did you…" she demanded, not even caring if Jehan heard the trembling.
Her voice trailed off as she fought back tears, and to her surprise, he shook his head. She felt her shoulders sag with relief that he hadn't gone that far. Though judging by the look in his eyes, Madellaine liked to think she knew him well enough by now to know that for that, he wanted her awake and alert to feel it. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, blinking back tears. Jehan spoke up, his voice surprisingly quiet, though taught with rage. "WHY?" she shouted. "Why kill him?" she sobbed.
"To ensure that you did not attempt to leave me again, beloved," he growled. He leaned forward in his chair slightly, and Madellaine automatically recoiled and scooted towards the other side of the bed, flinching, and letting out a pained gasp as Jehan's arm shot outright, effectively wrenching her arms above her head and pinning them to her pillow. Madellaine recoiled and clenched her eyes shut. She could smell the wine wafting off his breath. He had been drinking. Again.
When she reluctantly opened her eyes to look Jehan in his listless eyes, they flashed with such indignance and anger, much like lightning would on a pitch black night. Madellaine swallowed hard as she felt his body weight crush hers and clenched her eyes shut as Jehan buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender and pine from the woods.
"Where did you go, my little éclair?" he murmured, and Madellaine shivered as his lips began trailing surprisingly gentle kisses down the column of her throat. "You fled from me," he growled, sounding much like a young boy pouting because he did not get his way, though that did not stop the fear from overtaking Madellaine's body completely, nor the immense shaking.
Madellaine let out a breathy squeak as he paused, locking her eyes with his, and was given no time to react as she felt Jehan's fingers drift downwards, the pads of his fingers lightly ghosting over her collarbones, tugging at her shift. "Wh—what are you doing?" she whispered.
"We will be married, now that you are widowed, and you're mine, my dear," he growled angrily, fumbling with the buttons of her shift. "You owe me an heir. Two or three sons, even." Madellaine tried to open her mouth to speak, but nothing came out except a violent coughing spell.
She had expected Jehan to be angry with her as he bolted upright, but if she wasn't mistaken, and she liked to think about reading people, she usually was. She watched as something within Jehan's cold, unreadable expression softened. "Here," he sighed wearily. "Sit up, Madellaine."
Madellaine frowned, quirking her brow at him, not sure if she trusted him fully. Jehan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, and exhaling slowly through his nose, as though exhausted. The young woman watched, her eyes wide and fearful, as he poured two chalices of water, keeping one for himself, handing her the other. When she made no move to lift the rim of the cup to her lips, he frowned. "Drink," Jehan commanded, his tone clipped and hard. "I've not poisoned it, you know. If I wanted you dead, Madellaine, you would be."
His words chilled her insides, and her throat felt like it was on fire, and it was only after she watched her lord husband lift his own cups to his lips and drink heavily that she decided to follow suit. She really was thirsty. Madellaine felt her arm shoot out as if to stand, and she winced as she felt Jehan's fingers curl around her forearm, helping her to stand, though she ignored his touch as his fingers drifted towards her hair, absently playing with a few of her blonde locks.
"Why?" Madellaine did not need to elaborate.
"Because if we are to be married, Madellaine," Jehan growled. "What kind of husband would I be to my lady wife if I kill her on our wedding night? What do you think of me, Madellaine?" he asked, sounding sincere in his asking.
Madellaine had not anticipated the question, and she would have fallen had Jehan not wrapped a firm hand around her waist. Claude's brother's eyes were filled with an utter rage, and his voice sounded distant, muffled. "Evil," she gasped out, feeling like she couldn't quite breathe all of a sudden.
She watched as the blue of his eyes darkened to an almost cerulean hue, and violently jerked out of Jehan's ironclad vice grip. She stumbled towards the corner of the room, and with each step her stomach tightened and ached all the more.
She kept swallowing, and her throat kept clenching, but no matter what, she could not stop the warm feeling rising through her chest. Madellaine lost the color from her pale face. It was as if her heart had suddenly stopped beating and all the blood had run down into her slippers. She swayed for just a moment before Jehan caught her and surprisingly gently, lowered her to the ground.
He was talking to her, asking if she was all right. Madellaine could not understand his words, he sounded as though he were underwater. With a hand against the cold stone wall of Jehan's chambers to steady herself, she slumped against the wall and huddled in the corner of his quarters.
"Don't make a sound, Madellaine, or you'll regret it," he warned, leaning in from behind her and buried his face in her hair, trailing gentle kisses down her neck. "You know what you do to me," Jehan growled through gritted teeth.
Goddamn you, Jehan. Poison. He poisoned it. Poison. He's poisoned me, Madellaine thought wildly, though it was becoming harder and harder for her to resist.
Gods, she felt so sick, and everything was blurry, her vision hazy and white. She struggled against him, her hand accidentally grazing against his thigh and he covered her mouth with a passionate kiss.
Madellaine spat in his face when he broke apart, defiant and furious. She kicked him, but it was to no avail. Hot blinding rage filled Jehan's vision and there was a horrible ringing that echoed in his eardrums. Momentarily aware of what he was doing, Jehan grabbed Madellaine's arm and shoved her against the wall of her bedroom.
"I will never love you, Jehan! "YOU KILLED MY HUSBAND!" she shouted, letting out a startled scream as he wrestled her to the ground, her head hitting the cobblestone street harder than he intended. "GET OFF OF ME! LET GO!" Madellaine bellowed, but it fell on deaf ears.
"Who are you going to love, hmm, if not me? Your husband is dead," he challenged, feeling his voice go dangerously soft and quiet. Jehan reached up a gentle hand brushed back a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "You're mine," he growled. "You're not going anywhere, and you belong to me, pet," he threatened, shifting so he was practically crushing her under his body weight. Jehan leaned down and kissed her, his kiss rough. "I warned you, didn't I?" he snarled, his voice low. She momentarily stopped struggling against him to stare up at him, her eyes wide in fear. "You've not done as I asked of you, now you pay the price."
"Jehan, please," she begged, hating herself as her tears came, but it was no use. "Don't do this to me, please, if you've any respect at all…"
"The next time my hand flies, Madellaine, I won't be so forgiving. Soon, this will all be over. You will love me, as I love you, and you will provide me with an heir. You'll see." Recognizing he had broken her spirit, he laughed and stormed out of their bedroom.
Madellaine lay on the floor, her vision coming in ebbs and waves, black mists swirling. She dove for them, wishing she would faint, so that she could escape the swells of burning pain in her body at what Jehan had just gone. She shakily tried to take a few steps forward and collapsed, too weak to walk. Madellaine flinched as she touched a hand gingerly to the back of her head. Her fingers came away bloody.
She glanced down, assessing her now ruined white silk robe and her condition. Other than the back of her head, the cut on her cheek, and her wounded pride, there was no other sign that she'd been attacked. She lifted her head to the heavens and cried. By God, someone help me.
God wasn't on her side. Not anymore. Not after this, for He had so cruelly allowed Jehan to murder Quasi and her punishment for daring to love a man as different as he was, was for him to no longer be by her side. "I...I'm so sorry, Quasi," she whispered, tears streaming down her face."I...never meant for this to happen."
Please. God forgive me. But as usual, her prayers were meant with silence. No one was coming to save her. She was on her own.
If Quasi really was dead at Jehan's hand, then she knew what she had to do to see him again. "God forgive me," she croaked hoarsely.
She began to scream.