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[darkchocolatecoffin]

okay guys i swear im getting the next chapter out this weekend, im sorry for basically dropping off the face of the earth college and fasfa have been a pain nghhhh. this is live footage of me working on chapter 4:

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ALT text image description:

a meme

top panel is jess from new girl sobbing, crying labelled as "me reading tragedy in a book"

bottom panel is charlie kelly from it's always sunny in philadelphia shouting with murder written on a whiteboard behind him and is labelled "me writing tragedy in a book"

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What if…Quasimodo had a Sister?

皿

REPERCUSSIONS

Claudette stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror as the rain pattered against the window, a soothing melody that did little to calm her troubled mind and heart. She released her braided hair, allowing the waves to fall loosely around her face. As she prepared for bed, she hoped to find some solace in sleep, but Claudette knew it would be an unlikely escape from the events of the day. Frollo had not spoken to, let alone looked at her since they left The Festival. She fixed her gaze on her reflection, noting the similarity to her father, and felt a sense of disgust. With a grimace, she turned away from the mirror. The thought filled her with a sense of anger and frustration, the memories of the day's events clouding her mind and leaving her feeling numb. 

Her thoughts raced as she pondered her Father's unwarranted treatment of The Jester, who had sought only to entertain, and the Hunchback who had suffered only because of his physical appearance. She was haunted by the memory of his wounded gaze, the deep pain behind his eyes pulling at her heartstrings, making her realize that her inaction had made her no better than the crowd who had treated him so harshly. The weight of guilt made her question the very fabric of her morality and values in life.

Claudette's mind strayed to Phoebus, The kind and brave Captain of the Guard who had protected her from the crumbling stage. His strong arms encircled her, pulling her close to his chest, his concern for her wellbeing and safety evident in every move. Claudette blushed at the memory and tried to dispel her growing romantic feelings for him, The Sin of Lust was a sneaky and insidious one, and she refused to give into her romantic desires for him. Even so, fighting against the natural pull of attraction was proving to be much more difficult than said.

Matthew 5:28 - But I say to you that everyone who looks at a woman with lustful intent has already committed adultery with her in his heart.

There was an ominous knock at the bedroom door, filling Claudette with a sudden sense of dread. She stood up, brushing out her dress before inching toward the door. With trembling fingers, she reached out to open the door and was met with the disturbing presence of Claude Frollo. With a sickening calm, he entered her room, the chill of death in his steps. Claudette's stomach turned as Frollo paced around the bedroom, his eyes wandering across the furniture before settling on her nightstand. She watched him with mounting unease, sensing the evil that radiated from his presence. When he finally looked up, he locked eyes with her, unblinking and unmoving, as if he could read every thought inside her head. 

“How did you enjoy the festival?”

Claudette's heart raced as her father's gaze burned into her, his expression impossible to read. His words, spoken for the first time since the events earlier, only served to further unsettle her. She looked down at the stone floor, unable to hold his gaze, and clasped her hands together in an attempt to quell her nerves. Frollo continued to stalk closer to her, his movements slow and deliberate. She could feel his presence looming over her like he were sizing her up and judging every move she made. His facial expression remained indecipherable

“It…was wonderful,”

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she answered his question.

“Until it wasn’t.”

Frollo stopped in his tracks, his eyes flickering from her hands to her face, studying the small movements she made.

“Hm…”

He hummed pressing her to continue, Claudette took a breath trying to stay calm as her father pressed her for more information.

“That man-“

“That monster.”

He corrected her in a harsh tone, his brow furrowing in disgust. Claudette finally looked back up at him, her expression wide with fear as he continued to stalk towards her. As he encroached upon her personal space, she felt her stomach drop and tried to inch backward away from the man.

"No... he was just— something must have…" 

She stammered, but Frollo cut her off, his voice growing louder with each word.

 "What you saw was a pure example of the ungodly truth in this creation," He spat, his face contorted with an unhinged fury.

"It's been bestowed upon people such as myself to cleanse the world of such evils. They do not follow the word of our Lord like you and I."

Claudette felt her breath catch in her throat, her fear mounting with each passing moment. Frollo continued to speak, his words filled with a conviction that only fanned the flames of her terror. 

“But—If God created us all in his plan, then why would he create someone that would have to face such cruelty? How can that possibly—“

Claudette felt a surge of fear as Frollo's fist connected with her nightstand, sending her handheld mirror crashing onto the floor. The sound of broken glass echoed throughout the room, Claudette's heart raced as she watched Frollo push the contents onto the floor with a sweep of his arm. The room filled with the sound of clattering objects, and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she watched the remnants of her personal possessions scattered across the floor. She pressed her body against the wall as she struggled to find words, her throat becoming dry as she fought to find her voice.

“You question your Savior!”

He snarled, his fists clenching tightly as he grabbed Claudette's wrist and shoved her into her desk chair. The sudden movement took her by surprise, and she stumbled, landing hard on the seat with a jolt. Her Bible was shoved into her vision, and she stared down at the open pages in a state of shock.

“Thou shall not put your lord to the test!”

Frollo's grip on Claudette's shoulders tightened as he forced her to face him. Staring into his face, The man before her became a stranger. He was no longer her father, but a vessel for anger that was now being unleashed on Claudette.

"You disobey your father's word!"

 Frollo roared, his voice echoing through the room. "Manipulating the Captain of the guards to invite you to the festival, not only that but the complete adultery you committed, That Gypsy man, Captain Phoebus! You've been possessed, and if you wish to avoid the fiery depths of hell, you must repent! Repent your sins!"

His fingers dug into her shoulders, shaking her body and forcing the air out of her lungs. His face was twisted with anger, his grey hair disheveled. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. As he opened them, Claudette looked into his dark and soulless lenses. As he raised a hand to touch her face, she shrank back, trying to escape his grasp. His fingers were icy as they stroked her cheek. For a moment, she thought he was going to slap her, and her heart was racing so fast she was afraid she would faint. 

Then, just as suddenly as he had raised his hand, he let it fall to his side. His face was composed, but his stare was still dark and unsettling.

"I do this because I love you" 

He purred, his voice a harsh, unnatural growl. She felt that she was in the presence of pure evil, and yet, there was a part of her that wanted to believe that he meant what he was saying and that everything would be okay.

As he continued to stroke her cheek, she could feel his stare move from her eyes to her lips, heart-shaped, just as her mothers had been. His fingers moved down her face, his eyes lingering on her mouth. He leaned closer to her face, his breath hot against her skin. His fingers moved to touch her lips, and Claudette immediately recoiled. 

Frollo's anger was tempered this time, replaced by a cold, calculating gaze that seemed to pierce Claudette's very being. He watched her every move as she stood up from her seat and moved across the room to her bedside, scanning her up and down before turning away to make for the exit of the room.

“Repent yourself Claudette.” His words were laced with warning. “If you know what’s good for you.”

The silence of the room was suffocating as the door clicked shut behind Frollo, leaving Claudette alone to confront her thoughts. She leaned against the wall, her breathing shaky as she tried to steady herself. She struggled to keep her emotions at bay, the tears wouldn't stop falling. Silent sobs choked her as she sat on the edge of her bed, staring into the nothingness of her bedroom. The weight of her sins crushed her, Claudette knew that she had brought this all on herself. She should have never gone to the festival, She had strayed from God's path, and she knew that her father was right - she had to repent, or risk facing the eternal punishment of Hell.

The night sky above Paris was a dark canvas, the rainstorm from earlier had passed, leaving only the residue of puddles on the wet streets and dampness in the air.  Claudette walked with her head bowed, her breath visible in the cold night air, holding her Rosary in her hand. Her cloak was a patchwork of shadows, hiding the tears that stained her cheeks.

She entered the church, Its towering walls illuminated by the warm glow of candlelight. The church was empty, as she expected it to be at this hour of the night, she walked down its center aisle, the sound of her footsteps echoing on the stone floor. The stained glass windows cast a mystical glow over the walls, and the smell of candle wax and incense hung heavy in the air.

 Her eyes fell on the image of the Virgin Mary, and she crossed herself, kneeling in prayer.

 "Dear Mother of God," She murmured. 

"I come to you in supplication, asking for salvation and forgiveness for my sins." 

Claudette's voice echoed in the silence of the Church, the only sound save for the soft crackle of the candlelight. She lowered her head, her heart filled with humility and a sense of shame for the choices she had made. Her attention was taken by the gentle voice of the Archdeacon, who stepped forward to meet her. His face was turned to one of concern as he took note of her tear-stained cheeks.

"My Child... what troubles you?" He asked softly.

"I've strayed from God's path, Father. I've questioned the Lord's decisions, and I'm afraid I'm being tempted by - "

She couldn't finish her sentence, tears already choking her words. The Archdeacon frowned softly, rubbing her back soothingly as he led her to a seating section and lowered her down onto a pew. His large, bear-like paws wrapped around hers, holding her hand in a comforting grip.

"Claudette, my child... what makes you say all this? What happened?"

Claudette struggled to meet his eyes, wiping away her tear-stained vision. With a heavy heart, she spoke her story.

“I went to the Festival today…and there was a man—he was…different from the others and he was being abused and everyone just stood by laughing at him, engaging. I’m—I had to ask why God would create someone who he knew would face such torture. I should’ve never asked such a thing!”

He watched her with a sympathetic expression, and as he listened to her speak of her doubt in God, he whispered to her, his voice soft but firm.

"Claudette, my child... that's the beauty of this life, of this faith. God wants you to ask questions, what is life if not to ask why?"

Claudette listened to the Archdeacon's words of wisdom, twisting the prayer beads in her hand as she digested his message.

"Even if it's asking his motive to create a life of someone that faces such ridicule?"

She asked, her voice soft and laden with uneasiness. He paused to consider her question, she raised her head and gazed at the beautiful decor around them, searching for an answer. His eyes were fixed on the decor as well, and he hummed thoughtfully. 

"Perhaps he is here to teach the People of Paris a lesson of acceptance."

Claudette tilted her head, peering up at him with a thoughtful look on her face.

"Leviticus 19:18 states, 'You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against any of your people…”

“...But you shall love your neighbor as yourself.'" She said, finishing the verse in unison with the Archdeacon.

He smiled kindly to her, his eyes filled with admiration. 

"It seems that's a lesson for all of us to learn"

Claudette sat silently, she gazed up at the intricate decor of the building and contemplated her thoughts. She sighed deeply, her eyes settling on her lap.

"I don't understand my father," She finally spoke, her voice low and filled with frustration. "He's taught me to follow the word of God like himself, yet I can't help but wonder if he has lessons he still needs to learn."

The Archdeacon listened intently, his expression gentle and understanding.

"We all have lessons to learn, my child.” He confirmed, his voice tinged with wisdom.

 “Some more than others, no one is without sin, not even myself." 

As the midnight bells tolled through the church, Claudette turned to the stairwell where the bellowing tones emanated. Her thoughts went back to the Festival, to her encounter with Quasimodo, the way the tragic figure of The Hunchback retreated into the relative safety of the church after being scorned by the crowd. The town told tales of his solitary life in the Bell Tower of Notre Dame, controlling the bells that rang throughout the city, but she had never heard much beyond that. She rarely had the opportunity to get out and socialize, leaving her out of the loop when it came to the whispers and idle chatter that went on. She knew very little about The Hunchback, but she couldn't help feeling a sense of resonance with him and a desire to know more about his life in the tower.

The Archdeacon watched with a knowing expression as Claudette observed the stairwell 

“You should see them.” He encouraged, his voice soft as he gestured towards the Bell Tower. 

"They glisten in the moonlight, it's a sight to behold." He whispered, praying that she would take his suggestion.

 As the final bells tolled through the church, Claudette stood, her feet faltering as she made her way towards the stairs. Carefully, she began to ascend the winding stairwell, her eyes fixed on the upper floors, where the Bell Tower rose into the night sky.

The darkness shrouded her as she made her way up the narrow staircase, guided only by the flickering candlelight that illuminated the path forward. As she reached the top of the stairwell, Claudette hesitated, examining her surroundings. It was desolate, void of life, save for the enormous bells that loomed above her like a massive, imposing giant. She pushed forward, the moonlight streaming in through the open doorway, bathing the room in a soft, blue glow. Claudette peered upwards, seeing the sheer size of the bells, marveling at their size and power. They were bigger than she had ever imagined, their metal glimmering in the night glow, reflecting the beautiful hues of blue.

She stepped closer to the ledge, seeing the breathtaking view of the city below, Inhaling the scent of freshly fallen rain, she took in the peacefulness of the moment, basking in the moon. 

As Claudette turned to continue her exploration, her eye caught a small table in the center of the room, adorned with a scale model of the village below. She examined it, admiring the intricate wooden carvings of the characters that resided in the town. The Sheperd, The Fisherman, The School Teacher, and even her father, Judge Claude Frollo. But one figure in particular stood out from the rest. Claudette let out an inaudible gasp as she saw her likeness, standing proudly among the others. She gently caressed the figure, admiring the handwork.

 There was a creak in the darkness, She quickly lifted her gaze scanning the room warily. The dimly lit space made it difficult to see, but as she looked up, her eyes met those of a shadowy figure clinging to the railing. Claudette froze in her tracks, her breath catching in her chest as the darkness stared back at her. The shadowed figure leaped down, causing a loud thud that echoed in the room. Her Rosary slipped out of her hand and she stumbled backward, falling onto the wooden floor as the figure approached. She raised her arms to shield herself, a silent cry escaping her lips. The shadow suddenly stopped, reaching out with gentle care and picking up the Rosary. 

“You dropped this…”

Claudette’s face softened, her fear slowly subsiding in the face of the figure's gentleness. She reached out her hand, taking the Rosary from him, feeling the warmth of his touch as he gently placed it in her palm. As Claudette took the Prayer Beads, she saw his face illuminated by the moonlight, revealing him to be Quasimodo. Her body relaxed, her tension dissipated and a hint of relief showed on her face.

“I don’t usually have visitors…especially so late at night,” His voice was soft and solemn, his face betrayed a tinge of regret, as he bowed his head in apology. “I didn't mean to cause you any distress.”

“I came to see the Bells…” Claudette admitted, looking up at the towering structures before them. ”The Archedon said they’re beautiful in the moonlight.”

Quasimodo's gaze followed hers

“They are beautiful.” 

They stood there in silence for a moment, both lost in thought until Quasimodo spoke again. 

"What's your name?"

Claudette smiled, a feeling of warmth rising within her chest.

"Claudette"

"That's a beautiful name" Quasimodo said, his voice full of genuine admiration.

For a moment, she felt a strange sense of connection between them, A feeling of comfort and safety, as if she had found a kindred spirit, as if they were both bound by the same thread of fate.

“This is beautiful, did you make it yourself?”

Claudette's eyes wandered back to the scale model, admiring the meticulous detail put into each building and its miniature inhabitants. Quasimodo hesitated for a moment before answering, still feeling somewhat abashed by his appearance.  He had grown used to being the object of fear or disgust, and yet this girl, Claudette, had not responded with revulsion at the sight of him. 

“Oh—Thank you—I did make this” He said slowly, his voice laced with a hint of pride.

“You must have worked a long time on this”

Claudette continued, noting the intricate details and the care that had gone into its creation.

“Well, I have a lot of free time…”

Quasimodo mumbled a response, feeling somewhat embarrassed at the thought of the endless hours he had spent crafting the perfect miniature version of the city. But Claudette did not laugh or dismiss his work, instead, she continued to admire it and asked more questions about the process and the stories behind each building. Quasimodo felt a sense of contentment wash over him. Claudette found herself wanting to know more about Quasimodo. He was intriguing and mysterious, and she couldn't help but feel drawn to him in a way she had never felt before. She knew there was more to him than met the eye, and she was determined to find out what it was.

“Do…you like living up here?”

Quasimodo turned to face her, for a moment, she could see the longing beneath his disfigured features, a longing that spoke of a life that was cruelly denied, but then he turned away, staring at the miniature town as if it were a bitter reminder of what he could never have.

“It’s safer here, People don’t see me.”

He said simply, but there was a depth to his words, a depth that spoke of a pain that she knew all too well.

“I’m sorry about today”

He didn't react, instead, he moved to rearrange the three stone Gargoyles he had placed at various points along the walls, as if her words had fallen on deaf ears. He murmered to them while Claudette watched him move the figures, trying to decipher his words, but she couldn’t understand him

“Did you make those too?”

Quasimodo paused, He rubbed his arm self-consciously, a small sign of vulnerability

“No…these are—My friends…”

The words hung in the air, and Claudette felt a lump form in her throat as she realized the extent of the isolation that had consumed Quasimodo.

“What are their names?”

She asked, trying to break the heavy silence. Quasimodo was surprised to hear her ask this, he didn’t think she would look too fondly on the fact he was friends with Stone. He smiled shyly, looking at the three stone figures.

“Well—This is Victor,” He said, pointing to the first figure. “And these two are Hugo and Laverne”

 It was almost unbelievable that he had been able to create such life-like creatures out of stone, and yet there they were, standing proud on the ledge. Victor was a lanky creature with massive wings that were stretched wide open as if he were mid-flight. Hugo was a round and tubby gargoyle, with wings that were far too small to support the creature's weight. The last gargoyle, Laverne, was a mixture of the two, with a lanky body and a round belly that gave her a playful quality.

“It’s nice to meet you”

Claudette greeted the gargoyles, She knew that they were more than just sculptures to Quasimodo; they were his companions, his friends. She couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the way Quasimodo took care of them, making sure that each one of them was kept clean and well-maintained.

“They like you” He said softly, afraid of how she might react.

“I’m glad, I like them too”

She extended her hand as if to shake hands with The Gargoyles. Quasimodo watched, a sense of tranquility washing over him. As Claudette took her seat beside Quasimodo on the floor, The Gargoyles watched over them, their stone faces looking out into the night, like they were protecting them from the outside world. They looked out at the open ledge, watching the stars as they twinkle like little jewels in the night sky. 

“How did you end up here?”

She hoped that her question hadn't been too invasive, that she hadn't crossed any boundaries. 

“The Archdeacon…He saved me when I was a young child, if not for him I would’ve been drowned by my mother”

Claudette frowned, feeling her heartache at his story. With a sense of compassion, she put a hand on his shoulder, offering him a touch of solace.

“He’s allowed me to live here in the Bell Tower…It’s my sanctuary” He said, his voice filled with a sense of gratitude

“Having all this space to yourself must be nice” She said, looking into his eyes with a smile, seeing the kindness in his heart.

“Well it’s not just me, there's the Gargoyles–Oh, and of course the Bells” He waved his arm to motion to the Bells, as if they were a part of him.

 She leaned in closer to him, their shoulders touching.

“I’m glad I got to meet you, Quasimodo”

“Really?” He asked, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and gratitude. 

“Of course. It’s not often I get to talk to people, especially those who are as kind as you”

 She knew that Frollo had been wrong about Quasimodo, he wasn't the monster that he had portrayed him to be. He was a man who had been isolated from the world, a victim of circumstance. Her Father had been influenced by his own prejudices and beliefs, a man who lived in fear of what he didn't understand. She had always struggled with his presence, the way he had controlled her every move and word, constantly leaning over her, never giving her any room to breathe. But now, sitting here with Quasimodo, surrounded by these ancient stones, everything seemed different.

“I’m glad I met you too Claudette”

Quasimodo admitted, As he looked away, she knew there was something on his mind, something that he wanted to tell her, but couldn't bring himself to do it.

“It gets lonely up here”

She thought of her upbringing, how she was forced to stay inside, and how the only outside interactions she had were under the observation of her father.

“It gets lonely at home too”

Claudette looked at Quasimodo, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and despair. She knew in her heart that what she was about to propose was a risk. She reached out a hand to Quasimodo, inviting him to stand.

“Come with me, we can run away from here, and make a better life for both of us.”

She studied his features, desperate for him to understand, to see that there was a life for them beyond the confines of Paris. However, Quasimodo shook his head, denying her idea. He had been isolated for so long, that he couldn't fathom the world beyond the walls of the cathedral. The idea of starting over, of leaving everything he knew behind, was too much to bear.

"I can't," He said, his voice heavy with sadness. "This is my home. I belong here."

Claudette's face fell at Quasimodo's rejection, but she quickly tried to conceal her disappointment, hoping that he would see the value in their newfound friendship.

"Then I'll visit you," She said, her voice filled with determination.

His eyes widened.

“But–You could get in trouble—It’s not safe for you”

“If it means we can talk again like this then it would be worth it”

Quasimodo was torn, He enjoyed Claudette's company, and it wasn't often he got to talk to others like this. He sighed in defeat, knowing that he was making a terrible decision, but one he was willing to take.

“Okay…Just—you have to be careful, you can’t let anyone else see you”

He muttered, his voice apprehensive. He knew that he was putting himself at risk, especially under the particular circumstance.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Quasimodo”

She promised, and as she turned to leave, he handed her a torch to allow her light as she made her way down the dark steps. 

“Goodbye Claudette”

He whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and appreciation for her kindness. She had vanished into the shadows, her form lost in the darkening steps that stretched away from the flame. As its illumination grew faint, he leaned against the wall, lost in thought. How had it happened that in a day, he had been introduced to not one but two beings who saw past his exterior? The beautiful Romani woman, Esmeralda, with her kind-hearted nature and intelligent mind, had captured his heart without even trying. He was torn between the conflicting emotions, as he grappled with the realization that his life had the possibility of being so much more than what his Master had always led him to believe.

Then came Claudette, a sister that he had known for the duration of his entire life, but he was forced to observe her from afar, refraining from ever interacting or speaking with her. Despite their apparent connection, this bond was unbeknownst to her.

The burning desire to reveal the truth to her consumed him, the revelation that though they were not blood-related, they shared a familial bond. However, He knew that such a revelation was not plausible. Claude Frollo, their father, would no doubt bear a grudge against him—and worse, for revealing such information, and Claudette would face punishment for seeking Quasimodo out without permission. 

 It was for the best that she remained oblivious to the extent of their bond, a decision he felt was far safer for her.

[darkchocolatecoffin]

Hey uh sorry if i’m intruding but I think I remember that there was a chapter three for “What if… Quasi had a sister?” Did you delete it? I was planning on reading it soon

Hi! Yes I did but I had to take it down because Tumblr had problems with the gif set I was using, I‘ll be reposting it again later but I have it published on my AO3 as well. :)

[darkchocolatecoffin]

[darkchocolatecoffin]

[darkchocolatecoffin]

Another What if…Story in the works, any guess on what it’s about?

[darkchocolatecoffin]

rewatched this movie the other day for inspiration and i cannot get over how beautiful it is

[darkchocolatecoffin]

Hey, your “what if Quasimodo had a sister” story is cool. Keep up the stuff. I’m looking forward to the next chapter :)

awee thank you so much! this means a lot to me!

[darkchocolatecoffin]

NAVIGATION

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 ℑ𝔣…𝔔𝔲𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔬𝔡𝔬 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔞 𝔖𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯?

˚₊‧⁺⋆♱ CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

[darkchocolatecoffin]

What if...Quasimodo had a Sister?

Ⅱ

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴏᴏʟꜱ

AN- I wanted to post this Chapter on January 6th because of when the festival takes place in the story lol. so I didn't proofread this, if you see the writing change in the next few days no you didn't.

Stepping into the carriage, Claudette felt a twinge of excitement. For nineteen years, she had been confined to the confines of her bedroom, forced to watch as all of Paris celebrated the Feast of Fools.  It was inconceivable, here she was on her way to the Festival, thanks to the help of Pheobus. The Guards assisted Claude Frollo and His Daughter into the carriage, Phoebus gave a slight bow, holding Claudette’s delicate hand to grant her balance as she stepped inside. No one had ever treated her with such care before, and the thought overwhelmed her with a sense of excitement. The soldier, with his golden armor, possessed a striking appearance that made Claudette's heart skip a beat. His physical features were rugged and manly, but what truly caught her attention was his kind and compassionate nature, for it was something that Claudette had been longing for all of her life.

The doors of the carriage shut, engulfing the cart in darkness, aside from a singular candlelight illuminating the inside. The silence was overwhelming, save for the gentle flickering of the flame, and yet, Claudette could feel her Father's stare upon her, his gaze never leaving. She fixed her watch onto her lap, refusing to meet his eyes. She knew what she was in for once they returned home.

Outside of the carriage voices of the crowd began to emerge, growing louder the further they ticked on. The carriage came to a slow crawl, finally resting to a stop before the doors were opened. As Claudette peered out of the carriage, she was greeted by the sights and sounds of the bustling festival, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer thrill of it all. A symphony of voices, mixed with the upbeat melodies of the festive music. Claudette was mesmerized, trying to take in as much of the lively scene as she could. It was a departure from the monotonous life she was accustomed to, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and wonder at the sight of it all. She followed her father to his seating section, trying to make sense of everything. Claude Frollo sat, his eyes moving to meet hers, his gaze assessing her with unspoken judgment.

“You will stand for the duration of the event, seeing you weren't supposed to be here there were no preparations for a seating arrangement.”

His voice was cruel, but Claudette nodded obediently taking her place beside him, standing.

“Yes Sir”

She should’ve known being here at the Festival would come with some sort of drawback. Standing throughout the nine-hour event would prove to be intolerable but Claudette was willing to withstand it. 

The streets of Paris were alive with the sounds of music, laughter, and lively chatter. The atmosphere was one of sheer thrill and festivity, with food and drink being consumed in abundance. The smell of delicious cuisine and flowing drinks permeated the air, igniting her senses. Children raced and played games, competing for small prizes, their laughter ringing through the streets, adding to the joyous ambiance. As she watched the people enjoy themselves, Claudette felt a tug of longing in her heart. She longed to be amongst them, to laugh and dance and play, but her father's cold and disapproving stare made it clear that she was not welcome. The weight of his contempt sat heavily on her shoulders, reminding her that she was still under his thumb, even at the Festival. 

As Claudette stood, staring vacantly at the crowd, A Jester appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She was startled by his radiant outfit, his top and bottom consisting of yellow and purple patches, topped with a long nose mask and bells ringing out with every movement. The jester swept into her field of view, bowing before her with a kind smile. Claudette, intrigued and somewhat curious, tilted her head to study the jester, her gaze fixed on his unusual outfit.

“New face over here!" 

The Jester exclaimed, his voice exaggerated for effect.

"Are you as gloomy as our Judge Claude Frollo?"

As the Jester performed an overemphasized impression of Frollo stomping in a circle with his arms crossed, Claudette covered her mouth to hide the smile that forced its way onto her face. She was amused by the Jester's antics, and he seemed pleased by her reaction. The jester, with a flourish, took her hand and kissed it, sharing a moment of connection with Claudette amidst the chaos and commotion of the festival.

“Clopin Trouillefou-”

“Claudette.”

Frollo cut the interaction between the two before she could respond. Clopin would turn to look at Claude, and he glared at the jester with a cold and menacing stare.

“Don’t interact with them.”

He spat in a low, threatening voice, putting a heavy emphasis on "them". It was as if he considered the Jester to be less than human, and he did, but it wasn’t because he was a Jester. Clopin, however, saw past this preconceived notion and performed one final bow to Claudette before making his exit, determined to spread joy and entertainment to others in attendance at the festival.

There were a multitude of contests being put on for the people to join, From eating contests that challenged how much pie one could consume in a certain time frame, to the incredible feat of drinking beer while trying to balance on a tightrope, the contests were endless. There was even a competition to see which farmer could grow the fattest pig over the course of a year. Despite the many options of games and activities, Claudette found herself standing, unable to participate in any of the fun. She was transfixed by the joy and enthusiasm that surrounded her, obligated to be an observer of the festivities rather than a participant.

“Hurry hurry! Here’s your chance to see the mystery and romance!”

    Clopin took the stage, waving his arms, and beckoning for the crowd to gather. 

"See the finest girl in France, Make an entrance to entrance! Dance La Esmeralda! Dance!" 

He called, his voice echoing throughout the square.

The stage exploded into a vibrant burst of red smoke, and then, from the darkness, a beautiful figure emerged. A Romani Woman came into view, Her wavy black hair hung down to her shoulders flowing in the air as she danced, and her emerald eyes pierced the audience. From her fingertips flowed a sheer purple cloth, as if it were an extension of her fluid movements. The sun, like a crown of gold, illuminated her dark skin and the gems sewn into her beautiful red dress, shimmering like a thousand precious stones. Claudette was enchanted, watching the beauty of this woman with wonder and amazement. 

“Look at that disgusting display.”

Hissed Frollo, his gaze dark as he watched the woman dance across the stage. 

“Yes sir.”

As Claudette strained to listen to the conversation surrounding her, she managed to pick up a statement uttered by Phoebus. However, her attention was quickly drawn back to the bewitching movements of the woman, which now held the undivided attention of Frollo as well. There was an intensity to his gaze, as he closely monitored the woman's every move, his interest completely absorbed by the captivating performance before them.

She leaped across the crowd allowing the music to take control of her steps. She approached the Judge, Frollo had never witnessed such a performance before. He was frozen, his eyes locked on the beautiful woman before him. Esmeralda smirked as she pulled the judge toward her. She wrapped the purple cloth around his neck their faces mere inches from each other now, Frollo was utterly mortified, grasping onto the sheer fabric, trying to free himself from her grip. He glared at Esmeralda with a mixture of rage and utter humiliation as she pulled his hat over his face, blinding him.

Esmerelda jumped back to the stage, her eyes locked onto Frollo's reaction over her shoulder. She finished her performance, and the crowd erupted with cheers and howls of approval. Men threw their coins on the stage, in appreciation of her beautiful and mesmerizing talent.

“Here it is the moment you’ve been waiting for, here it is you know exactly what’s in store! Now’s the time to laugh until our sides get sore! Now it’s time to crown the feast of fools!”

Claudette tried to keep up, everything was moving so fast. One moment Esmeralda was performing, and the next, a line of masked men were gathering on the stage, each hiding their features behind a cloak of anonymity. As Esmeralda approached the line of masked men on stage, the crowd's anticipation grew. With each removed mask, revealing a face more hideous than the last, the audience's excitement mounted to a fever pitch. Claudette couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for the men, seeing their faces met with looks of disgust and revulsion.

The first contestant was a sorry sight, with a gigantic schnoz that took up half of his face. Below his nose was a sad excuse for a mustache, consisting of just three thin hairs that looked like they were about to fall out at any moment. He sucked in his bottom lip, trying to give the ugliest face he could manage. He was met with the crowds booing before being kicked off the stage by a small grey goat.

The second contestant had crooked teeth and a mop of unkempt hair on top of his head. He tried to be dramatic as he yanked on his lip, revealing his gums for the crowd to see. Clopin shook his head in disapproval and nudged him off the stage as well.

One by one, the men were picked off until there were only two left. Neither seemed to be "ugly" enough to win the competition, and the crowd was getting restless. But the real surprise was yet to come. The first man wore his bald head as though it were a badge of honor, standing proud and tall despite his lack of hair. Yet compared to the other masked men, he appeared quite average, and as such, was swiftly voted off by the jeering crowd.

The final contestant stepped forward, The man had a fairly large build, An Immense, bulging mass protruded from his back, forcing him into a hunched-over position, his arms nearly grazed the ground as he walked. His arms were scruffy, his brows bushy and large, obscuring most of his facial features. The large wart on the right side of his face made his eye disappear completely.

Esmeralda reached to remove his mask, only to discover that he wasn't wearing one in the first place. The audience was aghast, but none more so than Frollo.

"That's his face!" 

Screamed a woman in the crowd, clutching her child close to her. Claudette took a step back, her eyes locked on the sight of the man's face, then to the rest of his body. 

 A look of panic spread across The Hunchback’s face, he slowly coward moving to hide his face in his hands, he had been dreading this reaction.

“It’s the Bell Ringer from Notre Dame!”

Clopin jumped to the defense of the hunchback, trying to quiet the crowd and bring order to the scene

“Ladies and Gentlemen do not panic! We asked for the ugliest face in Paris and here he is! Quasimodo the Hunchback of Notre Dame!”

He pointed to the hunchback, who stood there nervously, the crowd's jeers and insults ringing in his ears. But Clopin's words had a miraculous effect on the crowd—as if a spell had been put on the audience, they began to cheer and clap for Quasimodo hoisting him onto their shoulders like a hero. Claudette slowly stepped forward from her place beside Frollo, her eyes softening as she saw him smile. Frollo saw her move in the corner of his eye and watched her intensely, uncertain of her intentions.

Quasimodo, overwhelmed and unsure at first, smiled tearfully as he was greeted with hugs and kisses from the crowd. He now stood tall and proud, elevated by the crowd's sudden change of heart, and soon he was laughing and dancing with the people, his face lit up with genuine happiness. 

The warmth and joy surrounding him was palpable, and Claudette felt a sense of unity with her fellow Parisians, Clapping along with the crowd, she threw some colorful confetti in the air she had found on the stage of Frollo’s seating section. Claude, however, was not so pleased. Clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, he watched as his ‘children’ embraced the very kind of debauchery and tomfoolery that he had sought to suppress. Quasimodo raised his hands triumphantly in the air, his heart filled with a newfound sense of purpose and belonging. After a lifetime of being told that he was a monster and unworthy of love, the people had accepted him. Claudette realized that everything she had imagined the festival to be was becoming a reality. The music and celebration surrounded her, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the power of unity to bring strangers from different walks of life together. 

Until it wasn’t. 

“You think he’s ugly now? Check this out.”

Quasimodo was struck in the face with a rotten tomato. The crowd, once loud in their praise and support, fell silent, watching as the rotten fruit splattered across his face like a foul sickness.  Claudette, who had once praised Quasimodo, covered her mouth in shock, her smile vanishing as she witnessed the scene unfold before her. He inspected his hand then looked in the direction of which the fruit was thrown,  his heart heavy with betrayal, as he realized what they had done, and how quickly the love they had shown him had turned to mockery and torment. Quasimodo stumbled backwards in shock and horror, his hands coming up to his face to shield himself from the onslaught of trash and food that was being thrown at him. As the crowd's laughs turned to jeers and insults, Quasimodo's heart sank. The same people that had once been claiming him to be their fellow peer, were turning on him. His humility was being torn to shreds in front of his very eyes, and he had no way to stop it. 

“No!”

He let out a yelp, his voice shaky with fear and on the verge of tears. The contents of the filth made their way into his eyes, burning and forcing him to close them tight. Quasimodo cried out, praying for the humiliation to stop, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

          "Where are you going, hunchback?" One person sneered, pulling a rope around Quasimodo's neck, effectively choking him as he struggled to break free.

"The fun's just beginning!"

Quasimodo was tied down, forced to endure the humiliation and abuse, all while sobbing and begging for them to cease their attacks. He desperately searched the crowd for any sign of compassion and his eyes rested on a familiar figure: Claude Frollo. 

“Master! Help me!”

He cried out, his voice choked with despair. Frollo sat silently, his face a stony mask, betraying no emotion or empathy as the humiliation unfolded before him. Claudette saw Quasimodo's pleas for help, his eyes pleading with her father to call off the attack. She wished desperately that he would put an end to the abuse, that he would punish those tormenting Quasimodo. But Frollo stayed put, his hands resting calmly on his lap, without so much as lifting a finger to intervene.

"Master!" Quasimodo's voice was stretched and strained with desperation, his words choking in his throat. With tear-stained cheeks, he screamed out one last time, his cries full of sorrow and anguish. He struggled to speak, his voice hiccupping with every word as he spoke. He was sobbing, his heart shattered by the realization that the festival that he had come to see had turned into a cruel joke at his expense. The crowd's ridicule continued on, leaving Quasimodo to realize he was truly alone. All he could do was apologize, over and over again, for the way he was born, hoping that somehow it would satisfy the crowd. 

“I- I’m sorry! Please, I'm sorry!”

She wiped away the tears brimming in her eyes, trying to hide her emotional conflict from her father. Witnessing such abuse, knowing there was nothing she could do, caused her to feel a sense of nausea. Seeing the man sob and apologize for his existence made her throat go dry. She wanted so desperately to help and defend Quasimodo, but the fear her father induced in her was too great. She regrettably stayed put, her hands and feet tied by the bonds of obedience.

“Sir, Request permission to stop this cruelty.”

Phoebus spoke urgently, who also felt outraged at the situation, and tried to step in and put an end to the cruelty, but Frollo denied his request.

“In a moment. A lesson needs to be learned here.”

 Despite his desire to help, He clenched his jaw, and gripped the reigns of his steed, Achilles, with a grip that belied his inner turmoil. The urge to intervene in the situation gnawed at him, yet the orders that he had been given left him with no other choice but to follow.

The crowd fell silent, a familiar figure stepped on stage slowly inching closer to the abused boy. She knelt down using the cloth of her dress to wipe his face clean. Quasimodo flinched initially but relaxed into her touch as she wiped away the filth.

“Don’t be afraid”

Esmeralda said in a soothing voice.

 “I’m sorry…this wasn’t supposed to happen”

“You! Gypsy Girl! Get down from there at once! 

“Yes your honor, just as soon as I free this poor creature”

Esmeralda spoke with grace and determination. 

“I forbid it!”

Without a word, Esmeralda brandished a dagger and moved to cut the ropes, freeing Quasimodo from his entrapment. She helped him stand and gave him a gentle smile before turning to face Frollo.

“How dare you defy me!”

“You mistreat this poor boy the same way you mistreat my people! You speak of justice yet you are cruel to those most in need of your help!”

As she spoke, Esmeralda stood strong, her determination clear for all to see. Frollo looked upon her with a mix of shock and anger, but Esmeralda held her ground, unwilling to back down from the injustice that she witnessed before her. Ultimately, the crowd watched in silence as the events unraveled, their hearts filled with a mix of emotions as they witnessed the courage and kindness of the young Romani girl. 

“Silence!-“

“Justice!”

Esmeralda's words rang in Claudette's mind long after she had spoken them. She looked back and forth between her father and the Gypsy woman, feeling a mix of emotions coursing through her body. She quickly turned away, unable to bear the gaze of the woman who had so courageously stood up to the cruelty of the crowd and Frollo himself.

“Mark my words, Gypsy You will pay for this insolence.”

“Then it appears we’ve crowned the wrong fool! The only fool I see is you!”

The jester hat sailed across the yard and landed with a thud before Frollo, who had just about had enough of the festivities. He turned to Captain Pheobus, his eyes burning with a cold fury.

“Captain Phoebus! Arrest her!”

The chase ensued, Esmerelda moved with grace and agility, leaping over obstacles and dodging the guards with ease, all while keeping her eyes fixed on the path ahead. Her pet goat, Djali, followed her, running nimbly under the legs of the guards, effectively tripping them up and causing them to stumble. Esmeralda made use of the distraction, slipping away and disappearing into the crowd. The crowd cheered with excitement and anticipation, their attention completely off of Quasimodo at this point. She escaped swiftly with the rest of her people without so much of a hair out of place.

Claudette looked over seeing two guards guarding straight towards the stand riding their steeds where she and her father stood. Phoebus, immediately ushered Claudette to safety, pulling her onto Achilles' back and moving her to safety just in time. The stand collapsed, sheets falling on top of Frollo.

Claudette was pressed up against Phoebus' chest, wide-eyed and shaken from the events.

Esmeralda's escape had them on the edge of their seats, hanging on each move, cheering and hollering with excitement. As Claudette peered over at the commotion, she laid witness to two guards making a beeline toward their stand riding their steeds at an unstoppable speed. Phoebus sprang into action, pulling her onto Achilles' back and speeding away before the guards could lay eyes on them. The stand caved in, the sheets falling around Frollo who was caught off-guard. In the blink of an eye, Esmerelda was gone, having escaped with her people.

“Are you alright, Claudette?”

Phoebus asked looking down at the girl scanning her for any signs of injury, from the looks of it she was just in shock.

“Yes, I’m fine…thank you” 

He helped her down from his steed, holding her hand steady as she gently stroked Achilles' nose. It was a small gesture, but a clear sign of her gratitude to him and the horse for their bravery and kindness.

Frollo turned to Quasimodo with a chilling stare, his eyes piercing and full of hatred while he recomposed himself in a threatening manner, intimidating Quasimodo who tried in vain to cover his torn clothes. Snowball, his steed, strode forward beside him, waiting for his command. Claudette turned to see Quasimodo cowar however, before she could process what was happening, a guard abruptly ushered her away, leading her back to the safety of her home.

Claudette reluctantly followed, looking over her shoulder, her eyes fixed upon the figure of Quasimodo as he fled into the church, the rain pelting down fiercely, soaking him to the bone.

The village was quiet now, the festival over, The decorations, once vibrant and bright, were now wilted and dying. The village was deserted, with only the sound of the rain echoing in the streets and the mournful howling of the wind.

[darkchocolatecoffin]

Next Chapter to What if…Quasimodo had a sister? will be published on January 6th.

“Scurvy knaves are extra scurvy, On the 6th of January, All because it’s Topsy Turvy Day!”

[darkchocolatecoffin]

What if...Quasimodo had a Sister?

Ⅰ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴇ ᴄʟᴀᴜᴅᴇ ꜰʀᴏʟʟᴏ

The City of Paris was bustling about in excitement. Schools were closed for the day, shops closed early, and all cleaning and chores were to be put aside for the day to follow (much to the children's satisfaction). Men and women of all ages accompanied the streets in multicolored garments. Some were amplified with delicate jewels and feathers while others were more modest, meaning to represent a fool or dummy. It was easy to assume that just about everyone was exhilarated by what was to come in the next hour. January Sixth was a day of celebration in Paris, a day where regulations were suspended, and people were granted the freedom to let loose.

It was a day that for once the people of Paris were not divided by their backgrounds but instead were united by the feast. The Feast of Fools was an unofficial day of celebration, but its continued success had made it a permanent fixture on the Parisian calendar, so much so that Public officials were expected to attend, much to the dismay of a certain Judge. 

As you make your way through the quaint streets of Paris, you’ll be met with a shift in the air. The sweet aroma of freshly baked goods gives way to a haunting breeze that sends shivers down your spine. The Sunny embrace that once kept hold of the city is replaced by the chill of an eerie musk that hung heavy in the air. Perfectly placed within the center of this part of town was a gloomy building 'The Palace of Justice' The Gothic architecture stood out promptly creating a devastating display. This was where Judge Claude Frollo resided. A man who was known for his high value of religion, he held himself above the city for he only ever saw sin in everything and everyone, save for himself. He had no tolerance for anything but, excellence, even his own blood was not exempt from his rigorous standards. She accompanied him to the Church Sessions held in The Bell Tower, where he subjected her to his unbending moral principles.

Claudette Frollo

Claudette was often left alone in the confines of the Palace, aside from the ever-watchful guards who patrolled the grounds. Her father, Claude Frollo, would depart daily without a word of explanation, leaving Claudette to ruminate on his mysterious whereabouts. One possibility that lingered was the idea of him having a confidential lover, which, if true, would be a betrayal of everything her father—and by extension, she herself—had stood for.

It was a day like any other, a morning that began with the familiar tolling of the bell. Frollo had made his departure, leaving Claudette with the solemn task of maintaining the building's pristine condition. It was a duty that was bestowed upon her as the woman of the household, and she accepted it willingly. She never complained about the menial tasks that were required of her; the Bible had instructed her that she was to follow her father’s word.

6:1—Children, obey your parents because you belong to the Lord, for this is the right thing to do.

The front door opened allowing a dark and intimidating figure to step inside. The man's visage was stark and angular, with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw. His eye sockets were deeply set and shadowed with dark circles. His nose was long, and hooked at the end, with narrow, downward-turning brows over his equally sharp eyes.

"Father, How was your trip?"

As Frollo crossed the threshold, Claudette welcomed him, stepping forward to gingerly remove his hat and rest it upon a velvet silk sheet placed on a shelf.

"Fine."

Frollo spoke slowly, examining the home from where he stood. His slender fingers, decorated with intricate bands of jewel-encrusted rings, glided along the edge of a wood-furnished bookshelf, pulling them back to inspect momentarily. He finally rested his empty basket on the table as though it were the most precious object in the world. Claudette instinctively bowed her head, feeling small in his presence.

"...May I ask you something?"

Claudette spoke, breaking the tender silence. He gave her a half-sided glance acknowledging her.

"Today is January Sixth..."

"And?”

 Frollo pressed 

"And every year you have me stay here at the Palace while you attend...The Festival"

Getting these words out was a difficult task in itself but to see her Father already so displeased with the conversation at hand made Claudette feel unsure if she should continue, nonetheless, she pushed forward.

"Seeing as I'm no longer a child I feel that I may be able to handle going to something like this."

"Claudette."

His voice was unsmiling and grim

"I attend this-Feast of Fools every year because I am a public official. But I do not enjoy a moment of it. The sinful activities of these Gypsies are being paraded around and everyone sits there and commemorates it."

Frollo’s hand drifted towards Claudette’s face, his long fingers wrapping around her cheek and drawing her closer. Her heart raced with fearful anticipation as his gaze intensified. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to speak, but her words were caught in her throat, strangling her like a suffocating noose.

"I don't want to see you be engulfed in that." 

His words seemed as though they were supposed to be charitable but they came out in such a demeaning way it was hard to differ. Ultimately Claudette chose the latter, she knew furthering the conversation would be senseless. 

"Yes Sir"

Frollo clasped his hands together admiring his child. He did this often, though the gesture was rarely accompanied by words, leaving Claudette feeling uneasy. It could be the fact that Claude was fueled by the memories of his deceased wife, who he saw reflected in Claudette’s features.

"We have company arriving...I want you to look presentable, have yourself ready."

As Frollo’s words trailed off, he set off into the dark, his form disappearing into the depths of the dimly lit dungeon. Claudette didn’t hate her father, she couldn’t, but there were moments when she wished things were different, that their relationship wasn’t so strained and distant.

As Claudette gazed out the window of her bedroom, a serene sense of calm washed over her. She admired the bustling city daily, guards on patrol, children making their way to school, bakers and fishermen prepping in the early hours, the way of life going about as it was. Her isolation within her bedroom was her sanctuary. 

But being alone was far from unusual for Claudette, ever since she was a little girl, she was forced to rely on herself. Her memories of her mother were nothing more than hazy recollections, making it impossible to form a clear image of her face. She had to question, how her mother, in all her grace, came to fall in love with Judge Claude Frollo? She couldn’t imagine any romantic gestures coming from him, as cold and distant as he was. Was it possible that, before her birth, he was a different man? Was she the reason for his change?

Her earliest memories with Frollo included being forced to recite Bible verses at the dining table as her father read alongside her, correcting her punctuation. It was instilled in Claudette's mind at such a young age that religion was the singular most important thing in life, and she was made to understand that any deviation, however slight, would result in her spending eternity in the fiery pits of hell.  Hours spent kneeling in the church, hands clasped around her rosary, would sometimes leave Claudette's body weak and trembling, accompanied by whispers of apologies and pleas for forgiveness, The sight of her suffering caused the Archdeacon's heart to ache. Her desperate attempts at salvation never seemed to ease the guilt that gnawed at her, leaving her to lay awake in bed with her mind spiraling into ever-deepening thoughts.

Claudette's dress was a rich ebony shade, its dark and midnight hues forming a contrast to her pale skin, which bore a striking resemblance to her father's bloodless complexion. The decorative lining along the flare complimented the lace undersleeves that neatly hooked over Claudette’s middle finger.  Her raven-black hair was styled into a French roll, with subtle strands falling into her face, softening her sharp features, which shared qualities with her father, including his hooked nose and vampiric skin, yet her eyes were soft and kind, her lips heart-shaped like her mother's had been.

Claudette stepped out of the sanctuary of her room, her arms naturally assumed a position of concealment, tucked away in front of her as she strode down the hall. The dark and foreboding ambiance of the building instantly took her over the moment she left her bedroom. The distant sound of voices moved her focus when she attained the end of the stairwell. Her father ascended from the dusk hallway, and behind him was a soldier. His gleaming armor, the golden hues of which illuminated the room. He was handsome.

“Claudette”

Frollo partially introduced turning to face the man

“My daughter.”

The man nodded his head acknowledging Claudette, and was swiftly followed by a warm and affectionate smile that illuminated his chiseled features. His blonde hair was neatly coiffed, with a small goatee neatly trimmed below his mouth. He had a pair of deep blue eyes that mirrored the hue of the cape that adorned his muscular build.

“It’s nice to meet you, Claudette. My name is Phoebus…means Sun God”

 Phoebus tried to ease the tension he picked up on with playful banner.

 “I hope we will come to get to know each other better during my time here”

Frollo marked the interaction under a dingy gaze. He sighed about to dismiss the interaction between the two but Claudette spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you too…Phoebus”

 She smiled trying out his name

 “I’m sure we will cross paths”

Frollo cast a gaze upon Claudette that only she was able to pick up on. She moved her gaze away and down into her folded hands while Frollo stepped past her. 

“We should leave. I’d hate to arrive while they are scampering around making a mess of-”

“Are you going to the festival?”

There was silence.

Frollo turned to face Claudette his watch hard and unforgiving, as though daring her to offer any sort of explanation for her untimely interruption. Claudette realized her mistake. As she frantically searched for a suitable apology, Phoebus intervened for a rescue. Having spent enough time around her father, he could see that Frollo was a man who possessed little to no compassion for anyone other than himself. He could only imagine how he must have been as a father, with such a lack of empathy towards the world and those around him. 

“We are. Will you be joining us?”

He invited

Claudette’s eyes flickered. While she desperately desired to attend, she had been shut out by her father, who offered little more than a stern refusal and an abrupt dismissal. She couldn't help but feel hopeless, for she realized that there was unlikely any chance that her father would change his mind

“You yourself are a public official no? I’m sure the people would love to see you attend with your father.”

Claudette looked at her father while he held his tongue planning out a response. If looks could murder. 

“I’m sure Claudette wouldn't want to be wrapped up in such defilement. It’s not the place for a woman such as herself.”

“I think it will be a nice experience…even if it is only a one-time attendance.”

Frollo's gaze was dark. If it were just them two alone in the room surely what was to come would have gone very differently. He nodded his body forward, his hands clasped together as he delivered a deceptive smile, willing to make the concession to grant her wish to attend the festival. 

“Very well…if it is the Festival you wish to attend…”

 Claudette found herself both elated and appalled at this prospect, for she was all too aware of the potential repercussions that might follow. Nonetheless, she felt resolved to face any punishment that might come her way, so long as she could attain the opportunity to experience the festival. Frollo turned to depart, trailing behind him the heavy weight of ill will that he held towards Claudette at that moment.

“Come along”

Claudette locked eyes with Phoebus, grateful for how he had stepped in to aid the situation. With her father leading the way, Claudette followed, her heart was filled with a sense of warmth and excitement, knowing that she would be able to attend the festival and experience everything she had dreamed it would be.