A couple days went by, but Frollo still couldn't gather the courage to try to speak to Esmeralda. He knew she was still staying at the stables, with Pat. He had made sure of that by paying the boy short visits with poor excuses, and checking that Pat's nervousness when he saw him appear remained the same. He had also ordered his servants to increase Patrice's share of food, for he suspected that the boy was sharing it with her so she didn't have to set foot in the palace and risk being seen.

The boy was indeed sharing his meals with the gypsy, who kept insisting that he should take them, assuring him that she had gone days without eating before and it was no big deal. But Pat wasn't willing to yield, so she would take a few bites now and then. The boy was very worried about her. Esmeralda's usual happy disposition had turned into a gloom mood, and she spent most of the day laying down in the hay, in a fetal position, with an absent look in her eyes. Whenever Pat addressed her, she made an effort to smile, but it was just a sad shadow of her real smile. At night, he could hear her crying herself to sleep.

Only she didn't sleep. Any time she closed her eyes, horrible images of cruelty and murder filled her mind, making her heart jump in her chest. She was exhausted. But it wasn't the lack of sleep what caused her exhaustion. It was her inner battle. She was in a constant fight with herself, trying to straighten her heart into the realization that Frollo was a monster. But her heart kept fighting back, begging her to consider his side of this story, whatever it was. There was no consideration possible, she thought. Nothing could make the cold murdering of an innocent right. And the lying… She had bared her soul and body to this man. She had revealed the parts of herself she was most embarrassed about. And the whole time, he had been hiding a lie. There was no way she could even trust him again. So why the hell couldn't she just leave, leave him and everything behind, and start a new life far away from this whole heartbreaking story?

She was sick of tossing and turning in the hay. She got up quietly so she wouldn't wake Pat, and walked outside into the courtyard. There was no moon that night, and she could see the stars in the few clear spaces between the clouds. Looking up to the sky from there, she remembered that orange and purple sunset she had watched, the night of the big storm, before she had heard the harpsichord music and followed it to the library.

Even though she tried to fight it, the memory of that night, of Frollo playing that hauntingly beautiful melody with such delicacy and sorrow, came back flooding her eyes with tears. Once again, she asked herself how could he be the same man that had committed such terrible crimes. Maybe it had all been a trick she had played on herself, some kind of self-suggestion in which she saw what she wanted to see because of her feelings towards the judge. That seemed more believable. But she suddenly felt the urge to know for sure, so she decided to enter the palace and go upstairs. Maybe being in the same room again would help her remember with clarity.

The palace was deadly quiet, since it was the middle of the night, and even the last of the servants were asleep.

She snuck up to the library, silent as a mouse. Luckily, the door wasn't locked, so she was able to enter easily.

The whole room was dark. The fireplace wasn't lit, and though there were tall windows, the absence of moonlight made them look almost like a continuation of the wall. It took her a long time to get her eyes used to the darkness enough to not bump into any furniture and wake everyone up if she dared to move.

She walked to the instrument at the far end of the room. Though it was irrational, she felt as if the harpsichord was a living being, soundly asleep. She softly caressed the keys with her fingertips, and sat in the bench. Maybe it was the darkness, the silence, or her lack of rest, but she started feeling Frollo's presence as well. She closed her eyes, frustrated. This hadn't been a good idea. If she was trying to regain clarity, she was achieving just the opposite thing.

Feeling his presence there, surrounded by his things, was only making her feel weaker and more confused. The part of her that missed Frollo was growing stronger in his territory. If she wanted to be able to leave him behind, she needed to get out of there as soon as possible.

She got up from the bench and turned around towards the door. Because of the darkness, it took her a few seconds to realize there was a tall figure standing beside it.

- God! - she gasped, clasping her shirt.

- It's me. - Frollo's baritone voice whispered in the silence.

Esmeralda felt the adrenaline running through her veins as she fought hard to find a valid reason that justified her presence in the palace, in the middle of the night. But no words came to her empty, shocked mind.

- It's okay. - Frollo spoke again. He was resisting the impulse to move towards her. He didn't want to do anything that wound send her running again. So he stood there in the dark, barely able to discern her features in her curvy silhouette against the slight clarity of the window. However, he could perfectly hear her accelerated breathing, and he knew she was either furious or terrified. - I know you've been staying with Pat. It's alright. - he said, trying to reassure her.

Esmeralda was surprised, though she had suspected something when she noticed Patrice's food increasing in quantity. But she had discarded the thought, for she had been very careful not to be seen or leave any trace of her presence at the stables. But Frollo was smart, and he had probably found something that gave her away.

- I'm sorry. I'll leave now.- she mumbled, though she stood on her spot, for coming close to the door meant coming closer to him.

- You don't have to… - Frollo replied, and she could hear the hidden plea behind his tone. - I once told you that as long as I lived, you would have a safe home here. That still stands… whatever happens between us.

Her heart shrunk in her chest when she heard those words. But then she remembered the context in which he had pronounced them. Having her naked and afraid in front of him, completely exposed, while he was keeping secrets. And her anger came flooding back.

- I don't think I can feel safe here anymore.- she replied bitterly. She heard Frollo's soft gasp of pain.

You are safe, he wanted to say. I would never, ever hurt you.

But he knew those words would mean nothing coming from him now. So instead, he seized the opportunity to warn her.

- The Court of Miracles isn't safe for you anymore either. - he stated.

- What makes you think that? - she asked, skeptically, considering his warning an excuse for him to keep her under his watch.

- I was there the other day with Quasimodo. - Frollo began to explain.

- What? - she asked, baffled, suddenly forgetting about her anger and unconsciously taking a step forward. - When? Why?

- When you didn't show up to the cathedral… we got worried. - Frollo revealed, slightly embarrassed.- We didn't know if you were okay, or where to find you… so Quasimodo suggested we went there and ask around.

- What happened? - Esmeralda inquired anxiously.

- They weren't happy to see us. - Frollo said grimly. - They… knocked Quasimodo unconscious.

- What!? - she yelled, and the sound of her angry voice reverberated through the silent room.

- He's alright. - Frollo quickly reassured her. - Sore, but safe.

- And you? - she asked, and though she tried to sound cold and calmed, the underlying concern in her tone was palpable.

Frollo hesitated. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea to tell her the truth. It may look like he was trying to turn her against her people. But he figured that lying was precisely what had brought him to this situation in the first place, and he had nothing left to lose. If she didn't believe him, that was her problem.

- They sentenced me to hang to death. - he stated plainly.

He saw Esmeralda's body immediately leaning forward, willing to come closer, her hands raising towards him in an unconscious attempt to comfort him. But it lasted only a fraction of a second. She instantly held herself back, containing her impulse, though her voice was trembling when she asked:

- What happened?

- I… convinced them to let me go. - Frollo murmured, glad that the darkness was concealing his reddening cheeks.

- No, you didn't.- Esmeralda blurted out without thinking. She knew there was not a single chance that Clopin had had Frollo at his disposition and had been convinced to give that up.

Frollo didn't answer that. Esmeralda narrowed her eyes, trying to discern his facial expression, but the darkness was just too thick.

- What truly happened? - she insisted.

- Alright. - Frollo yielded with a sigh of surrender. He felt that revealing this would place him in an even worse position, more vulnerable and exposed to her wounding despise. But again, he had nothing left to lose. - When he was about to pull the lever, I… I begged him to tell you… how much I loved you.

Esmeralda's fists clenched, and she gritted her teeth, fighting to keep that information from reaching her heart. It couldn't be. She couldn't believe that. If she did, she would be lost.

- And then? - she asked, trying to focus on the story.

- He believed me. - Frollo explained. - I don't know why, but he did. And he chose to let me go.

- Just like that? - Esmeralda asked, in disbelief.

- Yes. - Frollo confirmed. - However he warned me… that if he ever saw any of us around them again, he wouldn't be so forgiving.

- That sounds more like him. - Esmeralda murmured darkly.

Once again, they both stood in silence, feeling the weight of their words.

- You don't have to talk to me – Frollo said, all of a sudden.

- What? - she asked, puzzled.

- If you stay here. You don't have to even see me. I can eat in my chambers, and I can let you know when I will be out so you can roam freely. But I meant what I said. This is your home too.

- No. - she replied quietly. - I can't. But… - she paused for a moment. - I will stay at the stables with Pat if that's okay. Just until I decide what I'm going to do next.

- Of course. - Frollo agreed immediately, visibly relieved.

She inhaled deeply, and began walking towards the door. He took a step back, to leave her space to come through. But when she reached his side, she suddenly stopped.

Frollo held his breath, afraid of what her next move would be.

She looked up at him, and with her proximity, he finally was able to discern her eyes. They were so filled with pain and torment that he instantly hated himself for putting her through that.

- They shouldn't have done that. - she murmured, with a strangled voice.- I'm sorry.

It took Frollo an instant to understand she was referring to the gypsies trying to execute him.

The judge nodded slowly. She gave him a single nod, and walked out the door.

When the timid light of dawn illuminated the horizon, Esmeralda woke up. She was startled at first to find herself laying in hay, but quickly remembered what had happened. After last night's encounter with Frollo she had finally been able to relax enough to sleep. It wasn't because she was feeling any better, which she wasn't. But at least now she wasn't concerned about accidentally running into him and his reaction when he learned she was staying there secretly. This gave her a little more time and clarity to consider what her next move should be.

But the stables were starting to feel a bit like a prison as well. She needed fresh air, and she thought that maybe a change of scenery would allow her a change of perspective as well. So she let Pat know that she was leaving for the day and would be back at sunset. She called Djali, who was happily eating in his box, and together they climbed through the crack in the back wall into the outside world.

A few steps further she began to feel already lighter. But she wasn't ready to face anyone, and she was terrified of running into Clopin or any of the gypsies in the streets. She didn't really believed Clopin's threat, but she wasn't eager to confirm he was bluffing anyway.

So she decided to head towards the edge of the city, where the river entered the forest. She thought that nature's calm would help soothe her mind. But once she got there, the silence and absence of distractions only made it harder to ignore that little voice protesting inside her heart.

She sat under a tree, laying her back on its trunk with Djali's head on her lap, and with a sigh of frustration, she spoke to herself out loud:

- Alright. Let's state the facts. Frollo killed Quasimodo's mother, in cold blood, according to the archdeacon.

She recalled how hard it had been to convince the priest to reveal Frollo's secret. However, she was way smarter than him and had found the way to manipulate the information out of his hesitant mind. Since then, she had regretted doing so countless times. But she knew she shouldn't regret it. She needed to know the truth.

- And then he lied about it every day for the past twenty years. - she continued, very matter-of-factly. - So that's it. There's really not so much to consider, is it?

Djali bleated weakly, as in response to her question, which made Esmeralda smile.

- I agree. There is no excuse. He's a murderer, and a liar.

And you love him, the little inner voice added.

She wanted to deny this affirmation, but she couldn't. Sitting there in complete solitude, where no one except herself could hear or judge her, she allowed herself to admit the truth. Yes, she loved him still.

It was completely irrational. This wasn't some kind of gray, complicated moral area. Murder was murder. There was no other way to look at it, but somehow, for her heart, that didn't change the other, equally true reality of her love.

Once again, she found herself considering what that said about her. What kind of person would stay in love after something like that?

Esmeralda yelled with exasperation, leaning her head against the tree's bark and looking up at its canopy. The branches hanged low, with lots of green, elongated leaves also hanging down, swaying softly in the breeze. She allowed her gaze to sway with them, slowly back and forth. But then, something caught her eye, bringing her attention back. She stood up, startling the goat who bleated in protest.

She looked closer at the trunk, observing the strange marks on it. It looked as if someone had ripped out the bark with a knife, leaving tender wounds in the wood. It was definitely human made.

- Who would want to rip…? - she began asking herself out loud, and then it hit her.

She frowned, skeptical. What were the odds?

But she instinctively leaned forward to smell the bark where it had been cut. And the discreet but distinct scent that filled her nose confirmed her suspicions. She recognized it as the same one that that from the tea she had been drinking when she was injured. Apparently, the universe was trying to mock her, or send her some kind of sign.

She took a step backwards and raised her eyes to contemplate the tree again. So this was a willow, the medicinal tree that had helped her heal. In fact, it wasn't just any willow. The marks on the trunk revealed that bark had been taken from this particular tree not long ago, so it was probably the exact one that Frollo had chosen to cut for her.

Before she could raise a defending wall against it, the memories from that event came rushing in. That had been the night were he went outside during a snow blizzard to get her that bark, exposing himself to such cold and exhaustion that it nearly killed him.

And, for what she had learned last night, it hadn't been the only time he had risked his life for her.

She had no proof that what Frollo had told her was true, but somehow she knew it was. It wasn't hard to believe anyway, that Clopin would have tried to kill him if he had been stupid enough to actually visit the Court of Miracles unprotected and unarmed.

What she found almost impossible to believe was that the gypsy had let the judge escape from his fatal fate.

The weird thing wasn't that Frollo had claimed to love her. Despite everything, she knew that the judge was convinced that he did, even if now she wasn't sure he knew how to love at all.

No. The weird, inexplicable part was… that Clopin had believed him. Clopin, the same man who hated Frollo's guts passionately, the one that hadn't even given her the chance to explain herself, to defend him… The man who had warned her about Frollo's darkest truth in a desperate final attempt of getting her to abandon him.

That man had decided that the judge was worth saving.

And that could only mean, he had seen something real in him. Something that, at the very least, began to make up for his crimes.

If Clopin himself had been able to see it… then maybe she wasn't crazy. Maybe, somehow, she had been right about Frollo all along.

She still didn't understand how that was possible, knowing what she knew now, but at least this gave her a glimpse of hope, that maybe she could find a way to end the war between the two parts of herself. She hurried Djali along, retracing her path back towards the palace. It was a long way back, but she was walking fast with determination. She needed to talk to him.

The silence of her absence was roaring in his ears as he stared at her empty spot in the dining table.

Frollo had eaten alone for the best part of his life, but suddenly, watching that empty chair was unbearable.

At least, he wouldn't have to endure it much longer.

After running into Esmeralda last night, when he had gone up to the library unable to sleep, he had fulfilled his mission of warning her. Now he knew she would be safe. At least, as safe as he could try to keep her. He had also made sure to confirm her that she was welcomed there, no matter what happened to him. He hoped that she would remember his words, and understand their meaning.

So that morning, after attending Sunday's mass, he had gone back to his chambers and written his final letter to Quasimodo, revealing the truth and asking for his forgiveness.

And now here he was, tasting carefully this warm, delicious meal the cooks had prepared for him, and him alone. The servants had been extremely surprised when he kindly thank them for all their hard work, and complimented their cooking skills.

But it was the least he could do, now that he no longer had to worry about maintaining their fear or respect towards him.

His only wish now was that he would get to see his mother once again, before being dragged away to hell. Perhaps she could be the one person to still love him, after everything he had done and was about to do.

He got up from the table, and headed towards the dungeon's door. He had decided to do it there, for only his guards were allowed to enter. He didn't want any maid finding his body on his chambers. It would be too traumatic for her, and too undignified for him.

At the main hall, he ran into Magdalene, who was carrying a basket with Patrice's food, towards the courtyard. Pat didn't know how to read, so he couldn't write him a letter. And he wasn't willing to say goodbye in person. Hopefully the boy would find its way with whoever came next to fill his vacant position.

He also briefly thought of his horse. He truly cared for the animal, and for a moment he considered going to the stables for a last friendly reunion with him. But that would take him too long. Now he had made up his mind, he needed to get it over with as soon as possible.

So, with a final sigh, he turned his back on the backyard and began descending the dungeon's stairs.