Claude Frollo paced around the sparse room as he often did when he had thoughts to process. And he had a great many thoughts to process. Many of them revolved around the girl glaring at him from across the room. The others were about the recurring nightmares he had since the night he "rescued" the girl and claimed her for himself.
Night after night he had battled falling to sleep because of his racing mind. He would eventually fall asleep and would wake within an hour with strange nightmares. Some were like those that he had during his sleepless nights at the cathedral where he would toss and turn because of his visions of the gypsy girl seducing and playing with him before throwing him into a fiery pit of sin and suffering. Others were about the dark times of his childhood.
Either way, they didn't allow him to rest for more than a few paltry hours. He would wake in a pool of sweat, gasping for air. He would struggle to reach for the girl next to him because she seemed to be the only thing that was real. He would cling to her unwilling form as though she would give him comfort. He would sometimes fall asleep again, but unfortunately the cycle would repeat himself. Esmeralda had night terrors of her own that he would wake from.
Claude started to think that bringing her to his ancestral home was a mistake. The old home held many ghosts and shadows of the past for him. He could swear he could sometimes hear the deep tones of his father's voice and see the shadowy spectral form of his mother's haunted face. He could almost hear the soft tones and wailing cries of the many children that were born there before illness took them one by one.
He had lost many brothers and sisters in those old stately building. He almost died of an illness himself. He contracted the swelling sickness and it spread to his brain. The doctors had told his parents that he likely not be able to father children because of the swelling in his nether regions. It was of no consequence to his father and mother because they had a different life planned for him. During his illness, his mother would speak of the lost children and remind him that the Holy Father had blessed them with one surviving son that would go to serve His church like how Hannah had pledged the prophet Samuel to service. He eventually recovered.
Claude had watched Esmeralda those few days before through the keyhole as she found the many tiny blankets and children's clothes that his mother had kept in memory of those who were lost. His father was cold and aloof and his mother was not a woman of many words. She suffered from a cold melancholy that was blamed on her constant sense of loss. She never spoke much to him except to remind him of his destiny of service and of how many she had lost before him and after him. He didn't know that she had kept those reminders of the past.
His parents seemed to ignore him as a child out of fear that he, like all the others, would not live. They did not show tenderness or the doting nature that he had seen many families share with their children. It left him with a sharp sense of loss.
As a child, Claude had craved their affection and it was never truly given. He felt as though it were something he had to earn from his father and mother. He worked as hard as he could to strive for perfection in hopes that he would earn their praise, but it was never given. He felt as though their love was always out of his grasp.
Love. Such a strange thing.
During his priestly studies, the concepts of love and its many forms were discussed and debated. Agape, the unconditional love of God. Phileo, the love from the soul for those around them. Storge, the love of empathy and familiarity. The last one was not commonly debated outside of discussions of sins that fell from it: Eros.
Agape was a concept that was limited to the supernatural in his mind. It was an incomprehensible concept that simply existed. Storge, the sense of familial love was foreign to him as well. He had never understood the feeling and action of familial love and devotion until he saw the pitiful form of his infant brother. His empty heart filled with adoration for the child until it felt like it would burst.
"Oh Jehan…", Claude sighed to himself.
He lavished his adoration on the young Jehan. His brother gave him many laughs and a sense of belonging. Jehan's every want was seen to and every desire fulfilled. Claude did not have that experience as a child and he would not let Jehan share the same experience.
As Jehan grew older, he started to turn Claude's affection against him and use it for personal gain. Gone were the days of the little boy clinging to his legs, begging him not to leave. Instead Jehan seemed bored of him acted as though he wanted him to leave so that he could fall into whatever act of debauchery that he found fit to do. Claude was painfully aware of it and it broke his heart.
The only one who seemed to return his affection was his adopted son Quasimodo. The sight of the deformed child had warmed his heart and awoken the same feelings of pity that he had felt with his infant brother. The child needed him and Claude needed to feel needed. It filled a part of his soul that he could not comprehend.
Like Jehan, Claude threw himself into raising the child and giving him the same education that he gave Jehan. He would read to him and eventually taught Quasimodo to read on his own. Others scoffed at his effort, but Claude simply ignored them. He taught him of the nature of man and the world around him that he would never see. A Quasimodo's hearing eventually deteriorated, he taught him a form of sign language that they used to communicate.
Claude was temporarily satisfied for a time until Quasimodo, like all the others, no longer needed him. Quasimodo was a strange soul that was far more interested in his bells than in the world around him. Granted, the bells never teased him or threatened him because of his deformities.
Claude once more found his heart empty and resorted back to filling it with knowledge as a form of distraction. There was nothing he didn't want to know. As time went by and he fell deeper and deeper into himself, he grew cold and hardened his heart against the world around him. The ice in his heart grew to fill his soul and he became bitter.
One day, an unspoken and strange need filled him. It was a feeling unlike any other.
Eros, the forbidden love for him filled him.
He had a new obsession.
Eroticism was not fully unknown to him. As a priest, he had felt strange stirrings in his body. The stirrings were aroused with the sight of a lovely face and the forbidden curves that he had seen of a woman's breasts as she knelt in prayer. He suppressed the thoughts and feelings as he had with all others by losing himself in his work. He avoided woman like they were the plague. He thought his desire was contained until he saw the flash of a young woman's hair in the sunlight.
From that day forward, he saw an obsession of something he had to have. He wanted her sweet form to himself. He wanted her moans and kisses to be for him and him alone. When he learned of her state of purity, he wanted that too. His body burned night after night and day after day. The kiss he gave her the night he stabbed the captain only fanned the flames of desire. That overwhelming desire led him to where he was now.
Claude simply did not know what to make of her and his every changing mood did not help the situation. Sometimes she appeared to him as a succubus that caused his fall with her seductive ways. Other times, he saw her as an angel that looked up at him with those beautiful dark eyes. Claude had to deal with both.
He tried to tame the seductress by bending her to his will. He had conquered her body time and time again. The mad side of him saw her resistance to his actions as a falsehood. She knew what she was doing. He punished her after the nightmares in the same way by forcing her to submit to his attentions. The witch must have sent them to torment him.
He had shown his mastery of her by taking her time and time again. He had taken her, not as a lover, but as one that wanted mastery and dominance. He bent her to his will and the dark twisted side of him found pleasure in watching her tire and eventually submit to him.
Another side of him knew that what he was doing was wrong.
Instead of the sweet moments that they were supposed to share, Claude had only shared moments tinged with brutality. The softer side of him that needed to be needed suffered from it. It wanted to guard her from tears, not be the source of them. It wanted her to willingly come to him for comfort and be her refuge, not be forced into his embrace. He ached for her to share the same sense that the child within him so desperately wanted and was denied all those years.
Claude also admitted to himself that he felt a sense of satisfaction when he eased the girl's suffering during her time of bleeding. Esmeralda was completely dependent upon him in that moment to provide for her and provide for her he did. He clothed her, eased her pain, and even gave part of his own gown to keep her taken care of. The look of shock and confusion was written all over her lovely face at his actions.
Her confusion must have stunned her into brief submission. Claude was shocked himself that she let him perform such an intimate act of helping her with her hair. She still flinched and jerked away when he would touch her back, but she didn't flee. Claude felt every flinch as though it were a dagger in his heart. He cursed her for hating his touch and cursed himself for being a source of disgust.
"Things will change in time" Claude told himself.
Claude knew he would eventually have to change her way of thinking. We can't keep on like this for forever, can we?
The girl would surely lose her fear and disgust of him and learn to submit herself. After all, he was her sole caregiver and provider in all things. The girl had no where else to go and no one else to care for her.
He would try his hardest to make her see his way of thinking.
Maybe I will change my approach. And I will start now.
His gaze darted to the girl across the room.
Esmeralda watched the disgusting predator pace the room like the madman he was. She found her irritation growing by the second at his incessant pacing. He had once more woken her up from her brief moments of rest with his flailing, gasping for breath, and pained groans. She had enough night terrors that she fought in her own mind. She most certainly didn't want to deal with his. Between the pain of her cycle and the pain of his presence, sleep had evaded her for many nights.
She threw one of the pillows over her head and ears to try and block out the sound of his footfalls and incessant sighs. She glared in his direction from underneath the pillow and gritted her teeth.
She could still hear him.
Esmeralda squeeled with anger into the pillow. She was exhausted and he obviously paid no heed to her need for rest. If he wasn't waking her up to violate her person, he was waking her up with his flailing and wretched grabbing of her flesh. He would weep his tears of acid into her flesh as though he were capable of deep emotions. She doubted he was even capable of feeling anything beyond base and wretched things.
What more do I expect from a Vampire? At least they sleep during the day! That wretched, selfish, disgusting…
He stopped his pacing. It sounded like he was coming closer to her.
Go away!
She felt a frigid hand stroke her shoulder and fury struck her like a bolt of lightning with the contact.
How dare he!
She shot up and struck him as hard as she could with the pillow. Her aim was true and she hit his face. "Just because you don't need rest, it doesn't mean that you have to keep the rest of us from sleeping," she yelled at him.
The pillow struck his face again and fell to the floor as she readied her fist to strike him with it. The priest looked at her with a look of pure shock and bewilderment.
Esmeralda balled her little hands into fists and readied to strike at him. His wretched hands grabbed hers before she found her target. She tried to claw at his arms instead.
"Peace child! It was never my intention to keep you from your rest!" He struggled to contain her. He fought to contain her, but she fought like a wildcat. Esmeralda managed to scratch him hard enough to draw blood. He yelped.
Good.
She glared up at him. "Well, you did! And I'm tired of it," she spat as she wrenched her hands out of his grasp. "I have had enough! If you want to stay awake, you could at least have the decency to leave me alone and let me sleep!"
"Peace child!" he pleaded as he tried to immobilize her. He struggled with her and pulled her flush against him. The priest captured her arms and crossed them over her breast. She struck out with her feet.
"No!" Esmeralda screamed up at him. "I have had enough! Let me go!" He gathered her tighter and tighter against him. She continued trying to wriggle out of his hold.
She felt a hardness grow against her back. She heard the wretched man groan into her ear. The nerve of this man! Finding pleasure in my suffering! And in such an unclean time! They call us the barbarians!
She tried to wrench herself from his disgusting hold. "You have taken everything from me and won't let me out of this wretched place! The least you could do is give me a few hours of peace!" She stomped down as hard as she could on his foot.
He let her go. She darted away from him and glared up at him. The priest had a noticeable bulge forming at the front of his nightshirt. She felt nauseous at what it implied. She made sure she was nowhere near the bed. He will not be forcing himself on me tonight!
"Esmeralda, I have asked for the same thing since the day I first saw you. A moment's peace. A clear thought. Sanity."
"The fault is your own. Not mine! Enough of you forcing your suffering on me!"
She made a note to not put herself near a wall. She learned that position would not be in her favor in his current state. She had no intention of being cornered by him. He would only use that to take advantage of her again.
She planted her feet into the ground and crossed her arms in irritation. Her glaring gaze didn't leave his form. She couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes. They blazed with a light that hinted at strange things. Instead, she focused on a noticeable tick in his jaw.
Esmeralda stood her ground. She locked her knees to keep them from the tremors that threatened to take over. The two stood there and stared at each other for what felt like an eternity to her.
The priest finally slouched over and rubbed his brow. He turned his back on her and sat back against the bed. His gaze appeared to soften as he took on a look of exhaustion.
"Esmeralda, you aren't the only one who suffers at night".
She huffed at him.
"Or suffers during the day."
She huffed at him again. Pathetic old man. Only thinking about himself.
"Come back to bed Esmeralda. No more of this for tonight. You aren't the only one that Somnos has deserted."
"No! I know what you want from me." she spat at him and she gestured to the front of his gown.
"Esmeralda, come to bed and I give my word that I won't do that to you tonight. I promised that I wouldn't take you during your bleeding".
"Your word means nothing to me priest".
Despite her fury, Esmeralda yawned. She was exhausted, but she didn't trust him to do anything untoward. He had done a poor job of respecting her person and she doubted he was capable of doing so now. "I would rather sleep on the ground than with you".
"If you lay on the ground, I will join you there," he warned her.
She rolled her eyes and yawned again. The priest started to rise as though he were going to join her.
"Either way, I will be with you so you might as well join me up here. We will both sleep better that way."
Esmeralda decided that maybe it would be a better option. He held a hand out for her to take. Esmeralda ignored him as21 made her way to the opposite side from the priest and proceeded to roll up a blanket. The priest looked puzzled by her action. She carefully placed the blanket at the center of the bed.
"This is the line that you won't cross. If you try to touch me, I promise I will strike you."
The wretched man threw back his head and started to laugh at her. "Insolent girl. Have it your way. But first…" The priest rolled over her flimsy barrier and pressed a quick kiss against her lips.
Esmeralda turned on her side away from him after she made sure he was back on his side of the barrier. Exhaustion overcame her irritation. Maybe I will be able to sleep without being disturbed tonight.
Claude lay on his side of the bed. He did not understand where Esmeralda's sudden fury came from. She had struck him out of nowhere and tried to fight him for simply caressing her shoulder. He glanced at the painful scratches that she left on his forearm. The girl had fought him like an angry cat.
"Maybe she is losing her fear of me!" he whispered. The girl slightly stirred so he silenced himself.
He truly hoped she was losing her fear. She had never gone out of her way to strike him like she just had. She had previously cowered and trembled before him. She would not strike out unless provoked. She acted as though a mere touch was a source of great agony. She went out of her way to touch him, even if it was with violent intent. He though back to the cell where he begged her to torture him with one hand, but caress him with the other. She had at least performed the first part of that.
Still. She touched me! And oh, the way she rubbed herself against me.
Claude had not meant for himself to become aroused, but the girl's pressure and friction against his groin had made his body beg for her. Once her bleeding ends… I can wait until then.
Claude forced his arousal down. He also echoed back to her complaint of not being let out of that room. He too felt like the old home was closing in on him with its many ghosts of the past and unpleasant memories. Maybe Esmeralda could feel them too?
Maybe a change of scenery would be good for us. One where I could give her fresh air and sunlight. She surely would appreciate me for that?
Claude decided that he was going to do just that. Yes, a change of location would be better. And I know just the place.
He felt proud of himself. He also felt cold and his arms needed something to hold. After a lifetime of deprivation and coldness, he wanted warmth.
He cautiously listened to the girl. Esmeralda was breathing deeply and fast asleep. He cast her barrier aside and drew her into his arms and buried his face in her mass of braided hair. He inhaled its sweet fragrance. It felt like a sedative to his mind. Her warmth filled his body.
Fatigue overcame him and he fell into a fitful sleep.
He had much to do in the morning.
