Fandom What makes a monster, and what makes a man?

[DaffodilsAndDragons]

6th December 1481, somewhere in France

The plague. The words that struck fear into the very core of any Renaissance man, woman or child. A cruel illness that was devastatingly quick but excruciatingly painful. A reminder that no one is safe from the might of the powers that be. For Anna, it had never made a presence in her life. People talked of how towns and villages had simply been erased from the earth. The young woman would never quite believe these stories. That was until, of course, it happened to her.

She was sat next to her father, Jehan. With one hand, she cradled her father’s head, keeping it propped up. With the other she covered her mouth with a loose rag, hoping it would protect her somewhat from the wickedness that coursed through his body. She hadn’t contracted the disease, a lot of the older adolescents in her community seemed to be doing the best. Perhaps they were stronger. He wretched suddenly, a violent cough that brought up blood which dripped from the side of his mouth. Anna pulled another rag from her pocket, wiping the liquid away with a wince. She heard him whisper something. Water.

Anna reached over to the bucket beside her, dipping in a wooden cup and bringing it to his darkened lips. She waited until he was done, and he looked up at her. A smile crept across his face. “You are so much like your mother” he croaked, moving her arm from his head and sitting up himself. The disease was debilitating, but he had a surprising spark of life left. Perhaps the final adrenaline before the fall, or simply the fact that Jehan had always found strength in the darkness. Anna forced a smile in return. It was always nice when he spoke of her, which had become rarer and rarer as the years passed.

“I wish she was here, from the way you’ve spoken of her she would know what to do with you far more than me” she replied, handing him a wet cloth which he held to his head. He shook his head gently.

“You are doing all that you can” he responded, which failed to bring comfort to Anna as she watched steam leave his forehead when the cloth was removed. The sign of his deadly fever coupled with the cold winter air that circled the shabby building which housed the other plague victims. From his low, makeshift bed, Jehan stared out the crack between the low window and the ripped fabric curtain, the sun was low. “He is going to be here soon” he added in a low voice. Anna looked out of the window at the evening sky, letting her hands fall either side of her onto the stone floor to support her.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“The intuition of a brother, it never leaves” he answered, taking in a ragged breath. He stared at his daughter for a few moments, her golden hair catching the evening light. She had inherited his fairness, but she had inherited the Roma eyes. Luxuriously dark brown. For Jehan, his daughter embodied what was good about the world. His brother however, embodied what he despised. Alas, this cruel twist of fate made him force his two worlds to collide. “Anna, pack our things, will you? Easier to move if we have to” he suggested in a way she knew was suspicious.

“Do you not want me to be here when he arrives?” she wondered aloud.

“It has been 18 years since we lay eyes on each other, it may be a shock to my brother to see you immediately. Don’t you think?” he said with a smile. He watched as she sighed, she reached out for his hand and held it for a moment. She went to stand up, starting with her left leg. Anna cried out, a sharp pain shooting down her right leg when she moved it. Her father jumped to attention as any father would, reaching out for her. She shook her head and waved her hand. With a whimper, she straightened her leg out. This always happened when she sat on the floor for long periods of time. A dull ache set in that was present at some point in her day to day life as she stood still to recover. “Is it bad today?” he asked, eyes glazed over in hopelessness of still not knowing how to help her condition, whatever it was.

“No, just normal” she said shortly, not wanting to add to his own pains. As she stood, her left knee jutting out as it bent - she rubbed her lower back, another area affected by what she called her damned abnormality. Jehan watched her methodical way of easing her pain, the stretches and the strength of her mind to simply push it away. He wished he do this same, but the plague was persistent but he knew the end was close. So close now. “They are storing personal belongings in the basement with all the medicines, I’ll see if they have any of those herbal pain relievers for you” she mumbled, wincing as she started to walk away. Her left leg carrying the right one along in a limp that was familiar to the pair of them. Anna looked back at him for a moment, seeing the furrowed brow of concern she knew too well. “I’ll be fine Papa” she assured him.

“I know you will” he replied, giving her a smile as she wondered out of the room, hearing her greet one of the ‘nurses’ that weaved in out of the building, mostly to check if people were still alive. No more than ten minutes after she had left that one of these nurses appeared at the door of the little room he was housed in. “Yes, Sister?” he acknowledged, lifting himself up into a seated position once again.

“Your brother is here” she said sharply as though she had no time to waste. Her revelation, which came as no surprise to Jehan, caused a dreadful feeling of anxiety that rose through him unexpectedly. 18 years.

“Show him in” he replied in a voice just above a whisper. He needed to get a hold of himself. He had summoned his brother for one purpose. The greatest purpose of his life. Though when the tall figure appeared at the door, he hoped he hadn’t misplaced his last-ditch trust in the man. Jehan pictured him as the caring older brother of his teenage years, that was the brother he liked to remember. “Claude” he croaked. “You’re looking old” he said with a sparkle in his ever-dimming eyes.

 

[AdAstra]

Claude Frollo didn't often receive letters.

If he was needed somewhere - for whatever reason that might be - the message was delivered either by word or mouth, or to him directly. Within the borders of Paris he was, by now, a well-known figure; either feared or worshipped by the commoners who secretly yearned for just a fraction of his power. He was aware of this. There were still times, somehow, at this stage of his life, when he couldn't quite believe it - but he knew. He knew what people were thinking when they walked past him in the street, eyes widening with respect. And he enjoyed watching people react that way to his presence. Some days, it was the only thing that filled him with enough strength to get out of bed in the morning.

That day had been one of those days. Tired and strangely unmotivated to do very much at all, even though duty called, he had opened the door to his chamber in his usual forceful manner...and realised that there was something stuck underneath it. Confused, he had kneeled down to discover a small envelope with his name written on it in tiny, slightly smudged, letters. A gasp had escaped his lips as he inspected it further, recognising the handwriting. Could it be?

Tearing it open, he felt his heart pounding violently as he read the first couple of lines. A letter from his brother, Jehan. Urging him to come and visit him, as soon as possible.

A fortnight has passed now, since that morning, and Frollo was suddenly finding himself stood in his brother's - rather humble - abode. The journey had not been particularly long, but also not particularly pleasant considering the weather had been dreadful all week. He was not in a good mood, and somehow he wasn't expecting the day to improve very much, either. 18 years of silence, and now this...what could Jehan possibly want from him now? How dared he even command him to visit, after all these years?

He would have to stop thinking about that for now. He didn't want to lose his temper by dwelling too much on the past, even though he felt like he had every right to do so. After all, they were still brothers. Family.

As Jehan spoke, Frollo carefully moved closer. The dim light cast its eerie glow upon the man's face, revealing skeleton-like features. A strange smell lingered in the room, making the stuffy air even more difficult to inhale. He swallowed.

"You don't look too good yourself." he replied, ignoring a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't quite identify. "In fact, if I didn't know better...I'd say you were dying."

 

[DaffodilsAndDragons]

Claude was correct, of course. He was dying, and Jehan was sure that his daughter knew it as well. It was the plague, you had to have the Wheel of Fortune spinning forever in your favour to survive it. Though the younger brother found it hard to not be intimidated by his brother’s lack of emotion in the face of his soon approaching death. Still, he had come to expect it from a man with such a heartless reputation, so it didn’t hit him as hard as it might’ve done.

“The plague, it’s spread like fire here” Jehan heaved, his breath growing a little more rapid as the beads of sweat from the fever made him wipe his hand across his face. “I know what you’re thinking, brother, it’s God’s judgement on me for all my sins” the man added with sarcasm, knowing his brother’s deeply rooted ideas. After years in Notre Dame himself, it was hard to let go of some of the cagey philosophies – though spirituality was something still close to his weakening heart. Perhaps he would be damned, but by whatever God that might be, his daughter wasn’t going to be.

“Though I believe it was also in our teachings to show kindness” he started after a moment. “To show charity” he murmured, closing his tired eyes for a moment. He forced them open, he didn’t have long and he wanted his wishes fulfilled. “I have a daughter” he confessed, loosing eye contact with the man in fear of instant rejection. He assumed Claude would know what was coming next. “She is sixteen, and don’t worry, despite her mother she’s fair like ourselves” he explained, knowing all to well his brother’s sickening prejudice. “She can’t stay on her own, not yet – she would struggle, she some difficulties” he coughed, finding it hard to speak. “You must take her with you”.

 

[AdAstra]

Frollo's first reaction was disbelief. For what felt like rather a long time, he kept staring at his brother without saying a single word; just trying to take in what he had just told him. A child? A daughter? He should have known. In fact he had thought about it on a few occasions - whenever he had actually allowed his mind to wander off to the topic of his brother and his potential family. Jehan was always the more weak-minded of the two. It got him in trouble even when they were children, and evidently he had learnt nothing from the mistakes of his youth, either. Of course he would be misled by dark forces...by heathens with no conscience and no intentions but to take advantage of kindness. And this niece of his, that he had never heard of until now and certainly didn't want anything to do with...the mere thought of her impure blood made him feel sick.

Then, another feeling made itself known inside him. Anger. Not only at his brother, but at God and the universe itself. He thought about Quasimodo and how he had been forced to take him under his wing all those years ago. How the cursed boy child had been nothing but a nuisance for most of his life and had only just begun to settle...why was he finding himself in the same position once again? Regardless of the girl's age, she would still need to be taught the ways of the Lord. And how did he deserve that responsibility? How was it fair of Jehan to pass this burden onto him?

Had the man before him not so obviously been dying, he might have shouted at him in response. But somehow, Claude Frollo managed to keep his voice calm as he eventually spoke again.

"I cannot take her, Jehan. It isn't my duty to raise heathens."

 

[DaffodilsAndDragons]

Upon Frollo's words, Jehan started to feel a crushing feeling, a collapsing within his chest. This was both physical and emotional - the desperation was setting in. He needed to know that Anna would be safe, safe before he passed on to whatever awaited him above or below. He stared at his elder brother square in eyes, searching for an ounce of compassion as he began to cough, retching as he did so. This time he was finding it hard to catch his breath. As though by instinct, who else but his daughter would answer to his struggling. Anna appeared at the doorway, holding a bundle of personal belongings. She barely took a moment to look at the other man present, rushing to her father's side without a moments thought - their two small bags falling out of her hands as ignored her aches and pains to sit beside him. He reached out and grasped at her hand, his cold damp fingers entwined with her healthy ones.

"You see, brother" he breathed, gesturing to the young woman, her golden locks and pale complexion a contrast to the dark room and darkly dressed men. "You wouldn't even know, not to look at her" he exasperated, throwing his head back in pain. It was only then that Anna turned her head to look at the man she had pushed past in the doorway, her Uncle. Tall and eerily thin, she wondered how the two men could possibly be related. "She just needs shelter, protection...just for now" his breathing slowed as Anna stared at him in confusion, a fire in her eyes appearing whenever she darted her head around to see the reaction from the stranger. What was he talking about? Her father reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small letter with an unsteady hand. He passed it to her, motioning for her to read, talking was becoming difficult.

She carefully unfolded the letter, her eyes skimming the words. If Jehan had never been a member of the church, their ability to read would be non-existent, it set the pair apart from the other gypsies. She shook her head slowly as she processed the words.

Spoiler

I will only give this to you when I can no longer explain myself. Your uncle, Frollo, is going to take you to Paris - he has status there. He's going to give you a home. He will give you a standing in life, a way to get a job, to make something of yourself. You cannot take to the streets and do physical labour, no matter how much you protest. Go with him, and take everything he says with a grain of salt, you are an open minded child and I pray to God that does not change. Just until you are no longer dependant. If he's just an ounce of the brother I remember, he'll tolerate you. Tolerate him.

"No, Papa" she murmured softly. She still had a community here, of sorts - most of their travelling group had died but there was still a foundation, crumbling as it might be.

"I think you mean, yes, Papa" he stammered, the traces of a smile barely visibly on his drooping, white face. His eyes were once again drawn to those of his brother's, who he searched for a conclusion to this visit. Jehan had to have faith that he would take pity. He never imagined the man would be present at his death, but there he was, over-watching one of the most private events of a person's life - maybe watching his death might make him just a touch more merciful. His head rolled back in pain and Anna reached out to cup his head, she stroked his cheek, her face crinkled up in what was the beginning of tears.

"Please don't leave me, not yet" she said, her voice breaking through the lump in her throat. No amount of telling herself that this was going to happen would ever prepare her. There was blood starting to creep out of the sides of his mouth again, and she wiped them away briskly - she didn't want it to look ugly, but no matter what she did, his appearance was deteriorating. His fever became so violent that she doubted he even realised she was there. The disease was so cruel to the onlooker, as well as the victim.

Jehan's eyes were closed now, and his hand started to loosen its grip on hers. "Florika" the name was barely above a whisper. Perhaps he thought instead of his daughter, it was his departed wife beside him, grasping desperately at his hand. Then, his breathing stopped. Like an antique clock that finally stopped ticking. He was soundless. He was motionless. What broke the deafening silence was the choked sob from Anna, who's eyes and nose stung like fire with the oncoming tears. Her hand remained clung to his own, the other slid from his face to his chest, grasping at his shirt as another sob escaped from her painfully.

 

[AdAstra]

Frollo could see it coming long before it actually happened. With every single breath followed a deep rattling sound from the dying man's lungs, his skin slowly turning from its ghostly white shade to grey. What disturbed him more than any of these things, however, was the increasingly empty look in his brother's eyes as their flame was slowly being extinguished by illness. Those eyes, that once looked up at him with such admiration...there was not even the slightest hint of that left now. Hatred had torn them apart long ago, but it was only now that Frollo began to wonder whether he had been too harsh. Even good men could be misled by the Devil, was that not what their father had told them so many years ago? Admittedly, he had been wrong about many things, but surely that wasn't untrue?

“Never place the blame on the victim, Claude.” he recalled him saying, in his deep, commanding voice. “Evil wears many masks. It can even disguise itself into beauty, if it needs to. The demon is always to blame.”

Jehan had never had any memory of watching their parents die. Nor had he ever recalled much of the fire from which the two of them only narrowly escaped. Frollo, however, remembered everything. He remembered their mother's screams as she perished in the flames trying to save their newborn sister. He remembered tripping over their father's body as he grabbed his brother by the hand and began to run. He had spent the majority of his life trying to forget this, but he remembered it all now and it was making his head spin to the point where he was beginning to feel nauseous. Trying to catch his breath, he leaned against the wall; turning his gaze away from Jehan for the first time. Lord help me, he thought, overwhelmed by an urge to walk out the door and pretend that this day never took place. Lord, help us all...

In that moment, Jehan stopped moving. His final breath was not much more than a sigh, but the silence that followed was deafening. Frollo stared at the corpse, then at the girl next to it, whose presence he hadn't fully acknowledged until now. Their gazes met for a brief moment before she broke down; the inconsolable cries of someone who lost everything echoing around the room. He realised then that he could not leave her. He knew there would come a day when he would regret this decision, just like Quasimodo had given him many reasons to regret taking him in, but if this was God's plan...he had to follow it. After all, she was now an orphan...just like he had once been.

“I'll leave you alone.” he said, still keeping his distance, “But before sunset, we must leave.”