A/N: Hi all, and welcome back! This is my first ever Esmeralda POV chapter, pretty much ever, as I kind of skipped over her in my other ND stories, but this time around since it's a blend of the German musical and the Disney movie, I'm trying not* to do that this time lol.
I've never written for Esmeralda, but considering how much I adored watching the German musical, I can't see anybody else but Mercedesz Csampai and Felix Martin in the roles of La Esmeralda and Claude Frollo, respectively, though in this version obviously, I've kept Claude as the Judge and not the Archdeacon of the church. Felix provides a handsome, refined status to Frollo and at times I empathized with his character in the musical to the point where I felt sorry for him (but did not condone what he was doing) and Esmeralda, Mercedesz brought such a fresh perspective to our favorite Romani dancer that I've not seen before, and has such, has left an impression on this story lol.
I hope you're enjoying the story so far! As usual, I don't own any of the characters associated with Walt Disney Properties or any characters from the German version of the musical, merely a few originals sprinkled here and there.
Chapter Twelve: To Atone Her Sin
THE thunder outside of Notre Dame de Paris seemed to crack the very air itself as if the heavens were threatening to split apart. A cloaked figure shrouded in a blue cape looked towards the sky. Then, she heard it, like a negative reflection of the magnificent cathedral's own church bells pealing, just above her head.
Esmeralda lowered the hood of her cloak, allowing a raven curl to tumble in front of her face, and with a minor huff of annoyance, she swiped it out of her way with one swift movement of her thumb and forefinger as the thunder rolled across the malevolent sky.
The untamed power reverberated and echoed across the bleak-looking landscape. The town square had been cleared of the festivities within the last hour, by order of the notorious Judge himself.
Esmeralda shuddered as quiet vibration plastered underneath her skin.
Claude Frollo.
Just the mention of the reviled man's name in the dark recesses of her mind send a tremor down her spine and was enough to send her weak. She hesitated, biting the wall of her cheek as she lingered near the wide oak double doors of the main level of the sanctuary.
She had, in her short time of living in Paris, the City of Lovers, lust, wine, and good food, never once dared to set foot through the doors of Notre Dame de Paris, the Lady of Peace is what the Parisian peasant folk called her, though the weather, it would seem, had other ideas in mind for her.
Black clouds sprawl across the sky, billowing in from the west. Their brassy glare drained the color from the roofs of houses and trees, leaving Paris tinted bronze in the faltering light. The air grew heavy, almost suffocating in a way, and the humidity pressed down, smothering and thick. The scent of rain was dark and heady, carrying with it the smells of spices from other distant lands.
A stillness falls over the town square of Notre Dame, and in the silence comes a low crackle of thunder, rolling across rooftops to the pattering of tiny raindrops. For a moment, everything stops. Even the wind held its breath.
A streak of hot silver split the dark sky, and the downpour began. Sensing no other choice, Esmeralda steeled herself, reaching out a trembling hand and tugged, almost grunting with the effort at how heavy the doors were, to open them, and slipped inside into the darkness, unfastening her cloak at the shoulders and letting the garment fall at her feet before stooping to pick it up.
Esmeralda raised a hand to her eyes as she felt her pupils dilate the moment the oak doors slammed shut behind her, and she visibly winced. She did not even know if she was allowed entrance into such a holy place, this house of God, considering what she was.
Where she came from. What she had done in order to survive, though her attention was drawn towards the sound of bells, coming from somewhere above her head. Each slow chime was a soft melody, echoing through the cavernous inner hall of the main sanctuary, reverberating off the ancient stone wall of the massive cathedral before her.
A baritone voice from behind her, gruff, rough, and coarse sounding, made her skin crawl.
"So… a gypsy dares to enter this holy place. What are you doing here, witch?"
Esmeralda froze, her feet planted firmly on top of the black and white checkered tile beneath her feet and she visibly cringed, biting her teeth. Slowly, as if in a dream, a horrible nightmare, Esmeralda turned to face the distinguished Judge Frollo, and the handsome, refined older gentleman seemed to feed on the terror brimming in her glistening green orbs.
The young Romani woman swallowed nervously at the darkening look in the Judge's cold gray eyes as they narrowed until they were nothing but slits.
She felt her throat hollow and constrict, and when, by some miracle of God, if He even looked out for the likes of her and her people, she found her voice, though she knew her voice lacked the conviction she really wanted to make in order to sell her argument.
Esmeralda began to hear herself stammer. "And why not?" she challenged, gulping again as she could feel the Judge's inquisitive eyes curl over her backside as she turned away from him.
Esmeralda had come here to find that boy, to apologize for the horrific way she had treated the man, wretch though he was, if she would have known… Her curiosity getting the better of her, Esmeralda slowly turned at the waist as she felt the Judge's shadow consume her in darkness, and she did not even have to look behind her to feel the man's presence as he stood behind her.
Though, against her better judgment, she found herself turning to meet Claude Frollo's gaze.
This was…foreign, and most unusual for her, not to feel anything but an alien chill in the man's presence, and yet, she could detect no hint of malice or deceit within the man's eyes, merely an insatiable curiosity.
"Because your kind is not allowed in here, heathen witch," he spat, his words dripping as a poison from his silver, languid tongue, and she shivered.
Esmeralda stared with wide-green eyes at the man she knew that she feared. The Judge's face, lean, though it was quite sleepless, as evident by the crumpling at the edges of his light gray eyes that reminded her of the last ashes of a fire, billowing in the wind, or the gray of a pigeon's wing, or the dull skies outside as the thunderstorm currently waged war on the city of Paris right now.
The much darker shade beneath Claude's eyes suggested to Esmeralda that he was not sleeping, and the man's lean face, hard from his pale skin currently pulled taut with a rage, a frustrated rage, to his thick tuft of salt and pepper hair, met Esmeralda's with a critical interest she did not know what to make of. Esmeralda had heard stories of the Judge and the man's cruelty.
There were not many things in this life Esmeralda wanted for herself. The young woman had been bent, bruised, despised, jeered at for her affiliation as a member of Monsieur Clopin Trouillefou's Court of Miracles, physically hurt. Any dreams that she might have once had, life saw fit to murder them all.
Her entire family had been killed, slaughtered at the hands of Claude's own soldiers when she was but a little girl, no more than four or five, at best. A kindly old crone had taken her in by the name of Gwendolyn, and the pair had fled Paris, France, for a number of years, roaming the countryside.
La Esmeralda, this strange material of beauty, was a broken woman.
She had no one left in this world and was utterly alone. She had but one dream left.
Esmeralda dreamed of safety, of peace. Just a moment when she and the rest of her people would be able to breathe without constantly fearing for her life or that of her virtue, which menfolk sought to take from her at every whim.
The Judge made an odd little strangled sound at the back of his throat and she heard the clacking of his boot heels as he moved to stand beside her.
She felt herself stiffen instinctively and involuntarily at such unwanted closeness, though she knew if she were to move away now, it would surely produce unwanted results and perhaps make situations worse for herself.
Judge Claude Frollo was a man who would do whatever he deemed necessary in order to achieve the desired results. A time of peace was what the man sought to adhere to, and he firmly believed he would be able to do that.
His cold, listless gray eyes wandered the length of the young dancer's body, studying her features.
The young woman's emotions were not easily hidden on her seemingly innocent face, though Claude refused himself to allow his mind to become ensnared in the heathen witch's trap. Her pain was evident in the crease of her lovely dark eyebrows as they knitted tougher in a quandary as she sensed the man spying on her, though the girl offered up no verbal retort.
The down curve of her full, luscious pink lips held the Judge captive as he was unable to tear his gaze away from them, resisting the beck and call of the witch's aura, his hand balling into a fist and shaking as he lowered it to his side, feeling his fingernails dig into his skin hard enough to pierce the sensitive flesh and stain his palms crimson with his own blood, wanting nothing more than to reach up with the pad of his fingertip and trace the conclave of her lip and its divot, to see if it was as soft as it looked, or if this was all just an illusion.
When she spoke again, the Judge closed his eyes in an odd half-smile.
"What did my people ever do to you, Your Honor?" she asked, feeling the edges of her lips tug upward into a twisted sneer, more of a pained grimace. "Why do you hate us so much?" Esmeralda continued, finding that she genuinely wanted to hear the truth from this man's thin lips for once in her life.
"More than you know," Judge Frollo answered by way of retort, feeling his breath catch in his throat for a moment as his gaze continued to slide over the heathen gypsy witch's entrancing body, assessing her slender figure in her simple ivory chemise with the short-capped, off-the-shoulder sleeves and rich purple overdress.
As the young woman slowly lifted her chin and glowered at him with a look that he could only perceive as venom in her forest green eyes, her very eyes showed her soul. The young woman could not have been older than twenty-three or four. Older than his ward by a few years, he knew, at best.
The girl had a kind of understated beauty. Perhaps it was because she was so disarmingly unaware of her natural prettiness.
Her skin was flawless. La Esmeralda was a woman of filthy repute, this Claude knew, he had seen the way she had twisted her body in dance, just as her kind twisted the truth, and yet, the witch before him who had dared to cross the threshold of the outside world and into this holy place was also all about simplicity.
Making things easier, helping those around her in the wretched circle of horrible vermin she associated with to be comfortable and happy with what they had, which was not much, and Claude aimed to ensure that their condition stayed that way.
Perhaps that is why her skin glowed so, it was her inner beauty that lit her eyes and softened her features. She was still so young she held the exuberance of youth. Her muscle definition was perfect, and the girl walked with the confidence of someone a decade older, in their early to mid-thirties. She was not just flawless in her bone structure; her skin was like silk over a glass and the young woman who had pulled his deformed monstrosity of his ward up onto the platform for all of Paris to see radiated an intelligent beauty.
Her hair was the brown of aged mahogany, rich and deep, yet with the subtle hues only time brings. With each stride the strands tumbled, reflecting the strengthening daylight in waves, and it hung loose in relaxed ringlets and natural curls to just past her shoulders, stopping at right above her breasts.
Claude sucked in a sharp breath that pained his lungs as his gaze settled and lingered on her eyes. Her eyes were like a clear lake in a dark forest, if you looked closer at that lake you could see around a shallow crevice filled with completely transparent water. The water didn't tug or ripple in the closed-off space, though there was reason enough to.
In that already unnaturally beautiful scene were two identical and gigantic green koi fish - trapped in an unbreakable and frighteningly fast chase for each other's long tails, fusing into a seamless circle. The only thing that got through their immortal war was a white light from the moon, a gracious beam to caress the bodies of the two.
How it bounced off their scales making the water turn a paler green. As the Judge looked into La Esmeralda's eyes, he knew that all the beauty of the entire world could not compete with this simple thing that she possessed.
Passion. Passion turned her green eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them, Claude read that this witch would fight to the very last tear for her wretched, miserable existence. This was a woman who would not let the world break her spirit.
La Esmeralda clung to it with a fiery passion hotter than any dragon fire from the tales of old he used to tell Quasimodo when the boy was much younger as a form of entertainment for his rare good behavior.
A trait that made her beautiful.
Judge Frollo sneered, his lips tightening as he gave his head a curt shake to clear it.
"I would ask you again, young mademoiselle, and please do not make me repeat myself. I am a patient man, witch, but that does not necessarily mean that I enjoy repeating myself. Why are you here? And do not make me say it for a second time, or you should find yourself removed from this holy place, witch, never to set foot within her walls again," he growled, hardening his voice, feeling his blood boil within his veins, though not as hot as before when he had gotten a good look at his ward on the pillory, hearing the boy's frightened pleas to him, alerting the entire city of Paris that he was the wretch's master, bound and tethered to him by his duty.
Esmeralda felt her face shatter and when she took a half step away from him, she let out a pained gasp of surprise as she felt the man's strong arm shot out and latch onto her forearm to prevent her from walking away from Claude.
"Do not walk away from me. You have not been dismissed, wench. Answer the question. Why have you come here? Certainly, it is not to pray…" Judge Frollo bristled at the young girl's lack of response, though he forced himself to tamper down the worst of his temper.
No matter. He was a patient man. He had all the time in the world to interrogate this heathen witch and needle the answer out of her. He was well known for his patience in Paris. La Esmeralda was resisting his attempts to engage in a conversation, and nothing more, and the fact spurred him, and he felt his eyelid twitch in rancor.
Esmeralda froze, biting down hard on the wall of her cheek, and she flinched, squeezing her eyes tightly shut as she felt the Judge's grip tighten. His attentions were not wanted, though they were not necessarily unwanted. Esmeralda did not know what to make of the reviled Judge Claude Frollo.
Merely that his attention directed towards her at this moment were much too intense for her to be comfortable with, too invasive, way too heated…
She heard the Judge huff in frustration, and she dared not look, though she could imagine the distinguished older man pinching at his front temples in frustration.
"You do know how to stir a good conversation, my child. Tell me."
The sudden shift in the man's countenance gave Esmeralda pause, and for a moment, she did not know how to react. The Judge's gruff voice was softer, much more subdued than before, though it still sounded rough at the edges.
"I—I came here to find that boy," she whispered, at last, her voice meek.
The hairs on the back of Esmeralda's neck stood upright, and she breathed out a shaking but relieved breath through her flaring nostrils as she felt the Judge's ironclad grip upon her arm slacken, and then he released her.
Almost sanguinely, Esmeralda slowly lifted her chin, jutting it out slightly defiantly to meet Claude Frollo's gaze, to show him she wasn't afraid.
Oh, but she was.
Immediately upon meeting the man's listless gaze, Esmeralda was quick to conclude this was not going to be at all pleasant.
"That boy does not need your help, he is my charge," Frollo answered coldly, and Esmeralda pursed her lips, hoping her crestfallen mood did not betray her and give away her current emotion in her eyes. "You should leave."
But Esmeralda could not bring herself to follow the Judge's commands. The fear traveled in her veins but never made it to her facial muscles or skin. Her complexion remained ashen and matt, her eyes steady as if she were shopping for food in the marketplace. Esmeralda let out an understated sigh and turned to leave, showing the man she was not afraid to turn her back, though she did not head off in the general direction the Judge expected her to.
"Stop." The command left the Judge's lips without hesitation, and there was a hint of hardened steel in the man's voice that told Esmeralda she needed to listen, or it would be she that would suffer the consequences of his temper.
Esmeralda did as he bade her, turning slightly at the waist to regard him.
"You are clever, witch," Judge Frollo murmured after a moment of silence, still keeping his hands clasped folded in front of his middle. "The exit is that way. Where you are going, heathen witch, is his domain. He would only succeed in frightening you. You are lucky, my child, I find myself in a merciful mood. If you leave now, I will…forget the crime you committed this afternoon by disobeying my command when you helped free the wretch from the pillory."
Esmeralda favored silence as the only apt response at the current moment, afraid that if she allowed her own temper surging as a fire within her veins, a coil in her gut-twisting as her stomach lurched and churned nauseously, that she would only succeed in provoking the man's violent ways.
She inclined her head in a show of submission, though a question burned on her tongue. "I am afraid that I cannot do as you ask, Your Honor."
Esmeralda felt a hollowing on her throat and the will to scream as she watched as Judge Claude Frollo's head whiplashed sharply upward to regard her words, and she knew by the look on the man's emaciated face, and in his eyes, that they had hit their mark.
"What?" he asked, as though he had misheard her when the girl knew full well that he'd hung onto her every word.
Esmeralda swallowed down hard past the growing lump in her throat, feeling as small as her breaking voice when she finally managed to find her voice, and, in a show of utmost respect for the man who detained the power with a single snap of his fingers to make her life going forward a living hell if he so chose, she gathered the skirts of her chemise and dark purple overdress and sank in a low curtsy, her gaze fixated on the man's boots, not wanting to meet his eyes, in an effort to placate him and also get her way regarding the boy.
Claude's expression turned almost languid, as his gray eyes darted briefly towards the bell tower stairwell behind her and then back towards her.
Esmeralda, sensing imminent danger, continued trying to bargain with the man.
"What happened to your ward was my fault, Your Grace, and I would like to apologize," she murmured, not at all wanting to meet his gaze, a fiery heat spreading to her cheeks, and she blinked back the beginnings of salty, briny liquid. Tears.
She blinked, momentarily startled. She had not cried in a number of years, thinking it to be an utmost weakness. The guilt at what she had done to that poor accursed creature that was rumored to live in this very cathedral sat on her chest. What she had done to him, Esmeralda could not take that back.
Esmeralda could attempt to make amends towards the creature in subtle ways, but the confession was out of the question, even to a priest within these walls. Only in her silent prayers could she speak to God and beg for His mercy.
If God even listened to an outcast's prayers like hers.
Esmeralda prayed that one day she would feel removed from her sin today, to be washed clean of it, but the guilt was a stain on her, an ugly scar. She had to believe in redemption and rebirth, she had to leave her deeds in past and move on.
Esmeralda felt herself stiffen as she straightened her posture from her curtsy and cleared her throat, needing to beseech that boy, if he was up there.
She owed it to him to apologize for the despicable way she treated him.
One second passed. Two. Three seconds passed as the Judge regarded her in silence.
Guilt was eating away at her soul and pestering Esmeralda to no end. A fire burned in her throat and in her mind, and she could feel his eyes as daggers aiming at her from where the distinguished judge stood by the stairs.
"As far as I am considered, witch, the fault is that of the boy's," the Judge growled cuttingly through gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes as he turned his head, that discerning gaze of aloof coldness towards Esmeralda, who froze. "You should not trouble yourself, mademoiselle, to give him an excuse for his actions. He is not allowed outside of this sanctuary. No part of the boy's body is allowed anywhere outside of Notre Dame. You may not be aware of this, but the boy certainly is," he barked, his tone clipped and hard as he regarded the girl.
"Please," Esmeralda begged, hating hearing the faltering crack and dip in her husky tone, just as the Judge turned his back on her and prepared to leave. "He meant no harm, monsieur. He is innocent. If you must punish anyone for what transpired out there today, then you will punish me, but don't take it out on that man. Has he not suffered enough? He's no less human than you or I."
The Judge halted, stilling his movements, and slowly turned towards Esmeralda, who swallowed, thinking she had just made a grave mistake in overstepping her boundaries, and she mentally slapped herself for her error.
Esmeralda did not know exactly what she had been expecting, but for him to take a moment merely to regard her, to stare at her, his gray eyes glistening with unshed moisture that was not exactly tears, per se, well, it was not what she had anticipated from this man of many rumors standing before her.
The fact that the Judge did not immediately respond to her plea irked Esmeralda, and she began to feel more than a little nervous by his staring. He reacted towards her begging by proceeding to raise his eyebrows in alarm and smiling at her, almost in an intimate manner, as if the Judge were enjoying some private joke with himself. Esmeralda sighed and continued.
"Should we not treat others as we wish them to treat ourselves?" she pressed, wanting nothing more than to put an end to their conversation.
Judge Frollo blinked, seemingly startled by Esmeralda's follow up. "Our Lord Jesus said something similar once," he murmured softly, glancing towards the white marble statue nearby of the Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus. Esmeralda heard herself let out a concentrated, shaking breath.
She forced herself to level her eyes as she did her absolute best not to raise her eyebrows in somewhat of a sarcastic manner.
What did he want?! Though, it occurred to her that Judge Claude Frollo was enjoying this, toying with her like this, much like a panther would stalk its prey. He spoke to her softly, however, Esmeralda's stomach twisted and churned at the hungered look in his eyes. The Judge's gray eyes burnt like midnight torches, and Esmeralda could see the loathing that spiraled as endless, fathomless pits.
But there was something else in there as he met her gaze. Something that caused a tremor of fear and…something unidentifiable, to waft down her back. Something that resembled abhorrence, loathing, and even worse…frustrated desire.
For… for me, she thought and swallowed hard, trying to ignore the beads of sweat forming on her brow bone, at her temples. And still. Esmeralda forced herself to look at Claude Frollo without a hint of fear or recoiling away from the man, though internally, she quaked.
She had been trained to mask her panic with apathy the day she lost her family to the Judge's soldiers, and Esmeralda could tell the way that she didn't give in to fear and allowing his intimidation to consume her, spurred his ire.
"I do not wish to discuss in detail anymore what happened today, least of all to you, for you are incapable of understanding," replied the Judge after a moment, stepping away from her, sounding much more subdued and complacent towards her than he had a mere moment ago. "I do not need to justify myself to you, witch," he spat, bitterness laced throughout his tones. "It is clear you and the rest of your race think me a monster, a merciless brute, given the way that I uphold Paris to her laws. I am, however, not as heartless as you might think, and as such, will permit you to find my…ward, and apologize to the wretch. I give you fifteen minutes, though I would be remiss if I did not confess to you that I believe you to be wasting your breath, my child."
Esmeralda felt what little color was left in her face drain, feeling her fury rise within her chest and spreading as a spiraling warmth all throughout her system, causing her to let out a haggard breath and she bit her bottom lip.
She wanted to offer some quip, some cutting remark that would cut the man and his pretentious, arrogant ways, but there were too many tired thoughts swirling around in her tired mind, and she wished to leave, as quickly as possible, to find that boy and go home.
Let the man think what he wanted. It was no concern of hers.
Esmeralda slowly inclined her head and offered an awkward little half curtsy, sensing the Judge was satisfied by the display of respect she had just offered him, for he proceeded to nod his head and made to turn away, though he paused, his ears perking up as he heard the soft susurration of his hearth keep's voice, and her boots descending the stairs.
He knew from Sister Alice the little blonde lass had gone up to the wretch's tower and had attempted to tend to his wounds, though had it been up to him if he had been present at the time, he'd have let the boy stew in them.
It was no less than the monster deserved. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, and turned away, not bothering to look behind him as he stalked out of the cathedral and out of the door without so much as a glance backward.
Esmeralda let out a haggard sigh and turned back towards the stairwell, and was immediately met with tension upon doing so, as she found herself face-to-face with none other than the young blonde woman close to her age.
The very same girl who stood at the front of the stage and had attempted to stop her from pulling Notre Dame's bell ringer up onto the wooden platform.
Esmeralda felt her lips part open slightly in shock. The young blonde with the short blonde hair cut as short as a young boy's and petite, elfin like features did not look at all pleased to see her heading up the darkened stairwell.
A small wooden basin with bloodied, damp rags was tucked underneath her left arm, though as she fumbled off the top step and would have tripped had Esmeralda not immediately shot out an arm to catch her, a little bit of the bloodied water splashed onto the black and white checkered tile beneath their boots.
As the blonde slowly lifted her chin and jutted it out, she was smiling to herself, though Esmeralda could tell that it was strained and quite forced.
Esmeralda did not bother to hide her frown as she looked upon the younger woman, feeling her brows come together in utter confusion and anger. Confusion, because she did know where this woman's animosity directed at her was stemming from, and anger, because she knew she did not like it.
The young woman's bright blue eyes were burning with a smoldering, fathomless rage, with the girl waiting for a remark on what Esmeralda was doing here, at the entrance to Notre Dame's bell ringer's north tower stairwell.
Esmeralda swallowed, feeling her throat hollow and constrict, resisting the urge to scream.
"I er… I came here to check on the boy, to attend to him." She uttered the words almost begrudgingly, hoping that she and this new she-stranger could come to a mutual understanding with one another, and perhaps, Esmeralda might be naïve and foolish to hope for this next part, that she could one day call this young blonde lass close to her friend like a sister.
Esmeralda lacked a female presence in her life, someone to laugh with, share jokes, tell stories, visit the marketplace, ever since the death of her sister.
The young blonde favored silence as the only apt response, looking at her from her face, to the hem of her ivory chemise and dark purple overdress, her eyes speculative and slightly despairing, to which Esmeralda had no comment.
"I…ah... didn't know that you would be here," Esmeralda murmured, the heat creeping to her cheeks, though she refused to be the one to avert her gaze first. Come to think of it, she did not even know this young woman's name! She bit the inside wall of her cheek, thinking that, as far as awkward situations go, this, by far, had to be the worst encounter she had ever had.