His Angel

Chapter 1 - The Bells of Notre Dame

The man and woman huddled closer together, fear over-taking them as Frollo continued to bore his harsh gaze down upon them. They weren't going to be together for long as a few guards grabbed the man and his companion, handcuffing them in the process, while the woman continued to hold on tightly to her baby.

 "Bring these gypsy vermin to the Palace of Justice." Frollo ordered coldly.

"You, there! What are you hiding!" One of the soldiers demanded as he latched onto the poor woman's arm. She tried to run away but his grip was tight. All she could really do was hide her baby away from their terrible gazes.

"Stolen goods, no doubt." Frollo interjected, having no real proof to his words. "Take them from her."

...

"She ran!"

...

The woman ran through the snow-covered streets, knowing her life and her baby's life depended on it. She clutched the child close to her chest as Frollo pursued her on his horse. She panicked as she heard the thunderous breaths of Frollo's horse practically descending upon her and she just managed to hop a fence and run off. 

It didn't take long for her to reach the doors of Notre Dame and she pounded on them with all her might, pleading, "Sanctuary! Please give us sanctuary!"

Frollo rode his horse straight towards her and she attempted to make a break for it. However, he was quicker, latching on to the bundle in her arms that she refused to let go of. In anger, he kicked her away, sending her crashing to the cement steps, where she bashed her head against them. But her death did not faze him at all. His gaze was still cold as he stared down at her lifeless body.

However, his harsh gaze turned to one of confusion as a cry bellowed from the wrapped bundle.

"A baby?" He questioned, uncovering a bit of cloth to reveal the baby's face. But what he saw only repulsed him and he was quick to cover it back up. "A monster!"

He looked around frantically and his searching eyes settled on a well. He rode over to it, ready to plunge the baby down into its watery depths when a voice yelled out to him.

"Stop!"

...

"Cried the archdeacon." Clopin explained.

...

Frollo glared at the old man, who kneeled down to take the dead woman into his arms, as he stated, "This is an unholy demon. I'm sending it back to hell, where it belongs!"

🎵Archdeacon: "See there the innocent blood you have spilt on the steps of Notre Dame."

"I am guiltless. She ran, I pursued."

🎵Archdeacon: "Now you would add this child's blood to your guilt on the steps of Notre Dame."

"My conscience is clear!"

🎵Archdeacon: "You can lie to yourself and your minions. You can claim that you haven't a qualm. But you never can run from nor hide what you've done from the eyes. The very eyes of Notre Dame!"

The archdeacon glared up at Frollo as he pointed to the holy statues of the cathedral. These very statues seemed to stare down at Frollo with judgmental gazes, that were as cold as his own. Their gazes seemed to stir fear within Frollo; a fear he had never felt in his entire life until now.

🎵Clopin: "And for one time in his life of power and control. Frollo felt a twinge of fear for his immortal soul."

"What must I do?" Frollo asked almost desperately.

The archdeacon stared up at him as he gathered the woman's body in his arms and stated, "Care for the child, raise it as your own."

"What? I'm to be saddled with this misshapen- "

He was cut off as the archdeacon exclaimed, "Have you forgotten about the other baby who you have orphaned? Whose father you killed because he helped gypsies? Who you so carelessly shoved into mine and the church's care?"

Frollo was silent for a moment. He had actually forgotten about her. She had been a baby herself when Frollo had sentenced her father to be hanged. He was after all guilty of hiding gypsies and helping them in many other ways. 

Though, it was only after he had hanged that man did he learn about his infant daughter. Frollo hadn't really thought much of her and had simply handed her off to the church to be dealt with. It had been two years since then.

Rolling his eyes, he looked down at the misshapen infant before an idea formed in his head. "Very well. But let him live with you and the girl in your church."

"Live here?" The archdeacon asked incredulously. "Where? With (Y/N), there's already very little space."

"Anywhere." Frollo answered dismissively. If he was going to raise this child, he'd rather not have to look at it every day of  his life. "Just so he's kept locked away where no one else can see. The bell tower, perhaps. And who knows? Our Lord works in mysterious ways."

🎵Frollo: "Even this foul creature may yet prove one day to be of use to me."

...

Clopin continued his story as he stared down at his small, entranced audience. "And Frollo gave the child a cruel name. A name that means half-formed...Quasimodo."

He brought up a puppet of Frollo carrying the small bundle in his arms up some stairs. It soon transitioned to some shadow puppets that ascended the stairs, that of Frollo, a young Quasimodo and the young girl, (Y/N). The last of the shadow puppets were of a grown Quasimodo and (Y/N), both climbing the stairs, with Quasimodo going to ring the bells while the girl watched him, just as the bells started ringing in real life.

🎵Clopin: "Now here is a riddle to guess if you can. Sing the bells of Notre Dame. Who is the monster and who is the man? Sing the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells, bells. Bells of Notre Dame!"