Chapter 41: The Feelings
"You're getting the firewood today." Claude's mother instructed.
"Why?" Claude cried. "We have people to do that for us..."
"It's because you need it." Claude's mother insisted.
"I need it? What do you mean by that?"
"Must I spell it out? You're too skinny! You need some work to bulk you up!"
"But I already train with swords!"
"Clearly it isn't enough!"
"But-"
"Your father asked me if you're really his son! I told him, 'Well, of course he is!', but he was too caught up in the fact that you don't look enough like him! We thought you would have at least broadened out by now, but you're still a pathetic twig, so it's time to do something about that!"
Claude was hurt by the criticism. It wasn't the first time that his build had been insulted, but his parents had only said such things in petty tones before. They'd assumed that he would grow older and naturally become a more massive man, like his father. But the likelihood of that was looking lower now that Claude was eighteen years old.
"I don't have time..." Claude attempted. "I have to study. My professors are expecting so much. I really can't-"
"You must!" Claude's mother snapped. "Your studies can wait!"
Claude reluctantly gave in. He felt hopeless as he collected the wood. It wasn't the first time he'd done this. He'd been sent to do this work as a punishment before, but this time the reasons were worse. Being punished for doing something wrong felt just, but being given extra work because he wasn't good enough made Claude extra upset.
He cut the wood into transportable pieces and carried many of them at a time. Claude was disproportionately strong for his size, so this was too easy. He should have been grateful for that, but the implication was disappointing. This was just like all of his physical endeavors. Claude had no difficulty gaining strength, but he never became much bigger. The fact that this job was already easy told Claude that it wouldn't bulk him up more than any other activity did.
He hoped for the best when he built a fire. His father sat in front of the fireplace, silent. It made Claude nervous to see the man quiet. When he was quiet, it was only a matter of time before he became angry.
"So your mother had you get the wood." Claude's father finally mumbled. "You certainly didn't take long..."
"I'm strong." Claude explained.
"But skinny." His father complained.
Claude worked up the nerve to ask a question.
"Do you really think I'm not your son?" He asked.
"I questioned it for a moment." His father admitted. "But you're clearly mine. We have the same face. Thinking you weren't my son was merely wishful thinking."
A painful look crossed Claude's face. Did his father really WISH he was a bastard?
"But... Why would you wish that?" Claude asked, upset.
"Well, look at you!"
Claude's father got up and strutted up to him, grabbing his shoulders disappointedly.
"You're too thin..."
He nudged Claude's face with the back of his hand.
"Can't grow a beard..."
His fingers frustratedly twirled the curls of Claude's hair.
"And you have this stupid curly hair! Apparently I expected too much when I thought my son would look like me. Or to look like a man at all!"
Claude really didn't resemble his father in aspects other than his face. His father was a stocky, bearded, straight-haired man. But Claude had never thought much of the difference, especially in regard to his hair. He liked his curly hair, which made the complaint about it especially hurtful.
"You don't like my hair?" Claude asked.
"No, I don't! It doesn't even fit your career choice. A lawyer with curly hair... It doesn't look proper! It's too frivolous!"
Shaking his head, Claude's father returned to his seat in front of the fire.
Claude regretted questioning the man's dislike of his hair. He was even more upset now that his future career was seemingly hurt by his appearance. Claude couldn't allow that. Law was his purpose. Enacting justice was his chance to be a righteous man. It was what would make his life worthwhile.
After that conversation, he began to comb his hair back with oil, straightening it.
Claude wiped the sweat from his forehead when he joined Esmeralda on the log. He was exhausted from hours of chopping and carrying wood, and the exhaustion had worsened since the work reminded him of when his mother had ordered him to gather firewood.
"Is something troubling you?" Esmeralda asked, passing an apple to Claude.
Claude was impressed by how well she could read him. Esmeralda always knew when he was upset.
"I just remembered a time when my mother made me get firewood." Claude explained before biting into the apple. "My parents tried to bulk me up. It didn't work, obviously."
"They were the ones who gave you trouble for being too skinny?" Esmeralda asked with disgust.
"Not the only ones." Claude replied. "But yes."
"I don't understand that." Esmeralda said with bewilderment. "You look... So good..."
She realized she was looking over Claude's body again. She was getting used to being around him while he worked bare chested, but it was easy to get stuck in a stare if she allowed herself to focus on his physique. That chiseled form was easy to admire.
Esmeralda blushed when she realized she was staring. Her eyes darted back to Claude's face.
"Sorry..." She apologized.
Claude chuckled.
"It's quite alright." He assured. "You flatter me."
He was smiling at Esmeralda. It wasn't a smirk or a teasing look, but a genuine, happy smile. Esmeralda smiled back, though she still blushed slightly.
"To be honest," Claude said sentimentally. "I've felt significantly better about my life ever since you said I have a nice build."
"Really?"
"Yes. It was quite satisfying to receive a compliment like that for the first time."
Esmeralda was glad that her embarrassing, girlish admiration had given Claude something to be happy about. She smiled with relief, but soon she looked at Claude with a mysterious curiosity.
Claude nearly asked what the look meant, but Esmeralda cut off his train of thought by running a hand over his hair.
"Tell me I haven't lost my mind." Esmeralda begged. "Has your hair always been this curly?"
Claude was startled. One of his hands darted to the top of his head. Sure enough, the natural curls of his hair had returned. He sighed as he realized why.
"You've discovered my secret." Claude jested. "My hair is naturally curly."
"I could have sworn it wasn't like that before..." Esmeralda said with confusion.
"It wasn't." Claude admitted. "Normally I use some oil and comb it back. But I didn't do that while I was hurt, and after I recovered I was too busy to think about it."
"And I was too preoccupied to notice the difference." Esmeralda realized.
"Lord knows what people have been thinking."
"I wouldn't worry about that. It looks great."
Claude questioned if he heard correctly.
"You like it?"
"I do."
"You don't think it looks frivolous?"
"No, I think it's quite nice."
As if to prove her point, Esmeralda ruffled Claude's hair with a sweet smile. Claude smiled back.
"Do you think I should keep it like this?" He asked.
"If you like it this way." Esmeralda replied.
Claude was both happy and disappointed with himself. All those years he had hidden the natural texture of his hair, all because his father had convinced him that it wasn't proper. That was foolish when he thought about it. But he wouldn't do it again. He would keep his hair the way he liked it, now that someone assured him it was good enough. Claude wondered if his additional feeling of inadequacy could be helped.
"Out of curiosity," He started. "What are your thoughts on facial hair?"
"I don't mind it." Esmeralda replied.
Of course. She did like Phoebus, after all.
"Why?" She asked. "Now are you asking if you should grow a beard?"
"No, I can't grow a beard. I was wondering if you considered that a flaw."
"Not at all! Actually... I like that I can see your whole face."
Claude was smiling like a child. Esmeralda was happy to see it, but sad at the implication. She hated to think of the harsh words he must have heard about his appearance, which made compliments such a big deal now.
"Thank you." Claude said gratefully.
"I just speak the truth." Esmeralda assured, returning the smile.
Claude was in an exceptionally good mood when he finished his meal and returned to work. Esmeralda watched him for a while. She was amazed at how well she was coming to know him. The angry, tyrannical judge had always been a familiar figure. But now Esmeralda was familiar with the Claude Frollo who had curly hair and enjoyed her company. She felt herself liking him more every day.
As she watched him work, still smiling from their conversation, Esmeralda was filled with a warm feeling of fondness.
"'Now, a good night's rest,' said the knight, 'I beg you!' Then he goaded Gringolet with his gilded heels, and by good luck the horse chose the perfect path to brilliantly bring him to the bridge's end at last."
Esmeralda took a breath as she finished reading. She was proud of her progress.
"Well done." Claude praised. "I just realized: I should have named my horse Gringolet. It's a good name."
"What did you name him?" Esmeralda asked.
"Geoffrey." Claude replied. "After the English writer, Geoffrey Chaucer. I didn't like Chaucer back in the day. I found his writings painful to read. And my horse was rebellious and painful to train. So, being petty, I named him Geoffrey."
Esmeralda laughed. Claude shook his head, grinning.
"Why don't you read now?" Esmeralda suggested, handing the book to Claude.
"You're doing so well, though." Claude acknowledged.
"You're more fun to listen to." Esmeralda informed. "I like your voice."
"Keep up these compliments and I might never stop smiling." Claude joked with a grin.
He picked up where Esmeralda had stopped reading. Esmeralda enjoyed herself. She was sitting next to Claude on the bed, resting her head on his shoulder while he read aloud. She loved the sound of his voice and the way he expertly read the text with rhythm. She never wanted this to end.
"'That's a good one!' said the good man." Claude eventually read. "'Greatly I thank you. Perhaps, since yours is better, you briefly could tell me where you won this wealth by the wits you possess.' 'That was not the agreement,' he said. 'Question me no more! For you have what's due to you and so your yearning may cease.'"
Esmeralda laughed again.
"Gawain sticks to his word and does no more than that." She commented.
"He meets his obligations!" Claude chuckled.
"Why in the world is Bertilak's wife flirting with him?" Esmeralda asked. "Does Bertilak find out about this?"
"You shall see." Claude promised, closing the book and putting it down.
Esmeralda didn't want to remove her head from his shoulder. She stayed in the comfortable position, letting her eyes wander.
"You put up Elaine's painting." She noticed.
The painting was hanging from the wall, since Claude liked to look at it.
"I do love art." Claude remarked. "And it is very well done. I've seen some very good paintings in my time."
"I'd love to see more." Esmeralda said with interest.
An idea crossed Claude's mind.
"Would you be interested in going to Italy?" He asked. "I saw amazing works of art when I was there."
"You went to Italy?" Esmeralda asked, finally lifting her head to look at Claude.
"A few times." Claude replied.
"And you want to take me there?"
"If you're interested."
"It sounds fascinating. Do you speak Italian?"
"Fluently."
"You'll have to teach me that next."
Claude loved Esmeralda's desire to learn. He loved everything about her.
"You are such a pleasure to know." Claude told her.
"Am I?" Esmeralda asked.
She knew that Claude wasn't lying, but her troubled state forced her to ask. She still struggled to feel good about herself, feeling unwanted after being rejected by Phoebus and villainous after upsetting Quasimodo.
It hurt Claude to see that she still felt that way. He wanted her to know exactly how delightful he thought she was.
"Truly, you are." He confirmed.
Esmeralda looked at him quietly, absorbing what he'd said. Claude liked her. He delighted in her. She became emotional thinking about it. It felt good to mean so much to someone, but also frightening when she started to think about what it meant.
Claude froze as he looked at her. He realized the depth of what he'd just said, and how obvious it was. It was written all over his face. But Esmeralda's expression was unreadable. He was scared of what she might be thinking.
She was thinking about what he meant to her, which was more than she'd wanted to admit. Esmeralda felt something for Claude that she'd never meant to feel, even at his best moments.
There was a shine in their eyes. An energy seemed to move between them, making their hearts beat faster.
Esmeralda found it hard to control her feelings. She started to give in to the slightest degree, barely inching her face toward Claude's.
Claude's eyes widened as soon as he realized it. His heart pounded in a strangely pleasant way. He couldn't think. It was mere adrenaline that brought him to follow suit, slowly leaning in.
As they each saw the other draw closer, they found the strength to complete it.
Their lips finally touched, moving together gently. They'd never kissed like this before. Their first kisses had been aggressive and sexual. After that, they'd become a source of comfort. But this one was a product of mutual desire, and not the lustful sort.
It lasted a few seconds before they broke apart, looking at each other in shock.
"...Claude." Esmeralda eventually said. "I think we need to start telling the truth."
Her tone was depressing. Claude felt that this wouldn't be good, but he nodded unfortunately.
"I have feelings for you." He admitted. "I didn't realize it. Consciously, I've only been enjoying you as a friend. But if I let myself think about it..."
Admitting it to himself was overwhelming. As soon as Claude let himself imagine the possibility, his deeply emotional view of Esmeralda finally had a decent description.
"...I adore you." Claude finished.
Esmeralda looked down in shock. This wasn't very surprising, given the way that Claude treated her. But she was still shocked to hear it said out loud. The man who had oppressed her people and practically taken everything from her... Even though he had changed his ways, this was still incredible.
Even more incredible was how Esmeralda felt.
She looked back into Claude's eyes, sadly.
"I have feelings for you too." She returned.
Under different circumstances, Claude would have been happy to hear this. But he sensed that there was something wrong, that there was a catch.
"But?" He asked.
Esmeralda sighed.
"But... Not like the feelings I have for him."
Phoebus... Of course... Esmeralda still loved him. She still thought of him all the time. She did have feelings for Claude, but they weren't as strong as what she felt for the former soldier.
"I see..." Claude accepted sadly.
Esmeralda looked at him with sorrow.
"I'm sorry." She said sincerely.
"No." Claude said firmly. "You don't need to apologize."
"I don't want to hurt you." Esmeralda explained. "I don't want to ruin what we have."
"Neither do I." Claude agreed.
"Can you tell me this won't change anything?" Esmeralda begged.
"Nothing at all." Claude promised.
"Thank you..."
Esmeralda hated this. The last friend in her life was the next person to be hurt by her. And she was hurt by this too.
She needed to take some space. Claude understood. She kissed his cheek before leaving the room and going to a spare one.
Claude was left lonely and miserable. He'd never expected Esmeralda to want him as more than a friend. Being wanted as a friend was incredible in itself. He was more hurt by her need to walk away from him, though he respected it. He was used to her company now. Having her around was such a pleasure. That was taken away from him now, and he didn't know when, or if, it would be fully given back. He shed a few tears thinking about it.
Esmeralda ended up crying into a pillow again. Part of her wanted Claude, but it was blocked by the part of her that still wanted Phoebus. She resented her feelings.
But it wasn't as if romance was a reasonable option. Quasimodo would be upset. Clopin would be out of his mind. Phoebus would cringe.
This was for the best...
