The time had come.
Claude Frollo had been busy making arrangements to fix what he had destroyed, and talking to the people affected to spare his reputation.
But once Quasimodo had forgiven him, there was no longer any excuse to postpone the inevitable. So next morning, he woke up with his mind made up. He had to face her.
They hadn't seen each other since the gypsies were released under her window. He knew she had been resting in her chambers without going out for a couple of days, during which the meals were brought to her by her assigned maid. He had also commanded that a seamstress visited her and took measurements to make her proper clothes, as she only had those she was wearing on the night they were captured. On the fourth day, she had wandered around the main hallways of the Palace, as the guards promptly reported. He had make sure not to cross paths with her until everything else was settled. He told himself this was for clarity of mind… but truth be told, he was terrified of the encounter.
At least during the persecution he had a target, a purpose in mind, as crazy and consuming as that purpose was. But now he had found her, and made sure she would stay under his watch… What was next?
When he was after her, all he could think of was seeing her again, having her close to him again, as she had been during the festival or later at the cathedral. Her eyes, her warmth, her hair and its perfume… kept clouding his senses and mind.
But now she was just a few chambers away, all of that fell short in comparison to the paralyzing fear he felt. One thing was to fantasize about something, or someone, but having them within your hands reach… that was very different, and confusing.
It would be easier if this was just a physical desire. Though he had never felt that kind of mundane lust about anyone, he'd seen enough to guess it worked in a pretty simple, instinctual way. He could just… well… get to it and be done with it.
But there were two problems with that. First and foremost, he knew she didn't want it.
But also… he wasn't sure he wanted it either.
For as strong and burning as that desire was… There was an even stronger, deeper force, like a magnetic pull that dragged him towards her, that he couldn't understand at all. Is as if his soul knew something he didn't. As if there was something in her he never knew he had always needed. And this went way beyond his body, or even his heart. It was something that dug deep into his very essence, way past his identity into his core, the most remote corners of his soul.
And it terrified him, for he had never dared to go that deep within himself. He was all about his character, his identity, holding himself up to his own values and expectations, and keeping his reputation towards everyone else. And he dreaded what he might found down there.
But he knew, the closer he got to Esmeralda, the stronger that pull grew, and he also knew, deep in his bones, that eventually it would overpower him.
A knock on the door distracted him.
Magdalene, the housekeeper, poked her head through a slit.
- Will you be having breakfast on the dining room today, Sir? Or should I fetch you some refreshments?
- Yes, Magda, thank you. - he answered, formally. - Please make sure our guest joins me there.
- Of course, Sir.
She left without a noise.
Frollo inhaled deeply, and turning to the mirror, he readjusted his dark silver hair. At least he did no longer look like a dying man, he thought to himself. The rest and peace of mind had done him a favor with that. Though his eyes still looked strangely gleaming, as if the feverish glow hadn't left them.
He looked away, and left the room.
- I've been sent to escort you to the dining room, miss. - the housekeeper said nervously when Esmeralda asked her about her usual breakfast.
- What? - Esmeralda replied, with a sudden twist in her stomach. - With… him? - she inquired with a dry mouth.
She knew this moment would come, eventually. She had been lucky enough to have a few days to herself, and though she saw his presence in every wall, torch and lock, at least she hadn't had to put up with the man himself.
For a moment she had tried to convince herself that maybe he despised her so much that he was happy just to have her under control, without the need of further interaction. But she knew that was just a naive pretense. If all he wanted was control, he would have burned her on the pyre. He wanted something else from her. But what?
He hadn't seemed too eager to actually being with her for a man who had went on a rampant pyromaniac search for her just a week ago. Perhaps he had changed his mind? Perhaps he was only interested in the chase and catch game?
It made her nervous not being able to figure him out. She believed she could deal with almost everything as long as she prepared herself to, but the uncertainty was killing her.
- Please, miss… - the maid insisted, visibly restless.
Esmeralda understood she was worried about the consequences if she didn't achieve to fulfill his orders.
- Yes. Sorry. Of course. - she muttered with a weak smile, and she followed the old woman down the stairs.
When she entered the dining room Frollo was already sat at the table, waiting. He stood up in a well-mannered way when she approached her chair, and only sat back after she had as well.
The table was filled with delicacies, and the sight and smell of it all made her stomach growl in hunger. She tried to cover the sound with her hand, unsuccessfully. Though she didn't look at him, she could see from the corner of her eye that he was hiding a smug smile.
- Enjoy yourself – he invited, opening his hand. - I must assume it's not everyday you get the chance to have a proper breakfast. I find it hard to imagine this kind of nourishment at the catacombs.
- Oh, definitely not, your honor. - she answered in a fake impressed tone. - We didn't have fresh baked pies or roasted apples there… we had to settle for joy and good company. - she finished, with an ironic smile, that made his disappear instantly.
- You ungrateful witch – he snapped, dropping the cup on the table with a clinking noise.
She shot him a piercing gaze that he held firmly. None of them said anything further, and after a few seconds, the tension had built up to the roof. But neither one was willing to be defeated by looking away. The whole power dynamic of the situation was, quite literally, on the table, and they'd both rather drop dead than giving it away.
Luckily for them, a servant walked in bearing a trail with a steaming teapot, and broke the challenge by offering them a refill.
After that, they kept eating in complete silence, without ever looking at each other. Esmeralda tried to rush so she could be finished soon, but to her despair, she saw Frollo eat slowly, as in luxuriating himself in every bite. Though she heavily suspected he was actually taking delight in her restlessness, for she wouldn't be dismissed from the dining room until both had finished.
When he finally placed the cutlery over his empty plate, he took the napkin and softly cleaned his lips with its tip.
Esmeralda watched him do that with exasperated impatience, when suddenly a memory popped into her mind.
It had happened the night of the Tupsy Turvy. The gypsies had kept the party going on the Court of Miracles, playing music, and dancing and feasting on the food they had brought back from the city.
She had arrived late, after Quasimodo had helped her escape the cathedral in a terrifying climb down its walls.
When she got there everyone was happy and relieved to see her, calling her name and grabbing her arm to invite her into the dancing. But she was fixated on finding Clopin. She eventually spotted him, standing up over a table, and drinking a huge horn full of beer at one sitting, while other men cheered and teased him loudly.
She walked straight to him and arrived to the edge of the table, just as he dropped the horn, and grabbing his stomach with both hands, let out a huge burp. The men laughed and clapped, as he bowed humbly. When he raised his head and saw her, he squeaked in delight:
- Esmeralda! Where have you been? We lost track of you after the festival!
- Yeah well – she angrily answered, pulling him down to the floor, making him almost lose his balance. - Frollo cornered me into the cathedral and I had to wait there until Quasimodo helped me out, thanks for asking!
- Hey, hey! I knew Frollo's soldiers didn't stand a chance against you, little sister! - he said cheerfully, tapping her shoulder. - At least you got to spend the evening with the newly crowned King! - he added, with a wink and a poke to her ribs. But her scorching eyes let him knew she wasn't in the mood for jokes. - What is it?
- That's what I wanted to ask you, Clopin! What the hell was that?
- What? - he asked, puzzled, with his gaze still blurry from the alcohol.
- Quasimodo! How could you let it get that far?
- That wasn't me! - he replied defensively. - It was the people that took him after we crowned him!
- But you didn't do anything about it! You know they listen to you!
- Come on, now. The boy wasn't hurt, was he? It was just some tomatoes and vegetables, not like they were whipping him or anything…
Esmeralda's frown deepened.
- You're an idiot. - she spat, and turned around on her feet to leave.
- Hey, wait! - he said, but when she looked back at him, another man came out of nowhere holding an even bigger horn in his hand, and said:
- I bet you can't finish this off without throwing up!
- Is that a dare? - Clopin asked, pretending to be offended. And just like that, he took the horn and jumped onto the table again, completely forgetting about her, with beer foam dripping grossly through his goatee.
She had felt so disappointed, so out of place there, among those drunken people who couldn't care less about the painful events that had transpired during the day. Maybe she was too sensitive, she thought to herself, and patting Djali's head, she went off to bed.
Frollo cleared his throat, and brought her back to the present, to realize she had been staring.
This man in front of her, she then thought, could be accused of many things. But carelessness wasn't one of them. Every one of his actions and words was purposeful and conscious. He was well-mannered and chivalrous, and for the first time in her life, Esmeralda found herself valuing those qualities that she had so often called off as old-fashioned and stiff.
Truth be told, she hadn't met anyone who actually embodied them among her loose, laid-back cheerful people.
She tried imagining the judge climbing onto the table and drinking from a horn, and the absolute absurd of it made her involuntarily chuckle.
Frollo's expression darkened, thinking she was laughing at him for some hidden reason, and he tried to control his insecurity with a cold, detached tone:
- I'm told you haven't been to the stables yet. Maybe you should pay them a visit.- he said, suddenly standing up and prepared to leave.
- I'm not very keen on horses – she confessed, a little confused by his suggestion.
- Well, perhaps you'll find something there that's more of your interest. - he replied with an enigmatic tone, and before she could ask anything else, he left the room.
A/N: I don't know if you're looking forward as much as I am for some Fresme action... But I wanted to get there in a realistic way, for I believe there is a real way this could have happened if we understand where they both come from... So be patient! We'll get there! ;)