Or Else Let Her Be Mine And Mine Alone

The Duke of Burgundy

For once Esmeralda was waiting to see Frollo. As much as the sight of the man brought her loathing and apprehension, he was the only one who could provide her with insights on the subject she wished to learn about. She opened the heavy door of his study to find him absorbed in a thick book. He seemed to be mumbling something under his breath, whether the content of his book or commentaries on what it consisted of. Another befuddling aspect of the befuddling creature.

She walked downstairs as silently as she could, taking a look at the queer instruments that adorned the walls, when her eyes caught up an oddity among them: an engraving. A huge, fresh engraving of text which looked like it was from a compass. She could read, but the text was certainly not in French, or any language she understood.

'I see you've made no announcement of your visit,' a low voice stated. She looked towards him, startled.

'What language is that?' she said, pointing to the engraved text. The minister looked at where she was pointing, and for a second, he grew pale. It was a short disturbance, however, and he soon relaxed.

'Greek.'

'You speak Greek?'

He raised his chin and kept the book aside. 'I speak Greek, Latin, and Hebrew. A little English as well. It is the triple sanctuary for the study of theology and medicine.'

'You have studied theology and medicine?' she asked in disbelief.

'With law and the liberal arts. I even served as a doctor at Sorbonne for theology at sixteen.'

Esmeralda raised her brows in surprise. She was sure he was educated, but did not know the extent. He walked towards her with a proud smile, aware of the astonishment she was in.

'I told you; there are many things I am capable of that you do not know. I have self-educated myself on nearly all studies, even the ones which regular intellectuals are...avoidant of.'

As he neared, his eyes cast down, making any hint of admiration that she had gotten evaporate out of her. She could sense that his gaze was fixed upon her bust. His lips parted, increasing her disgust. She turned back to the wall.

'Then tell me what this is, learned intellectual.' The words came out more spiteful than she had thought, but she couldn't use another tone after such an act.

'ANArKH.'

'Well, what is ANArKH?'

'Fate. Or fatality.'

She held back a laugh. Of course. He was the solitary being in Paris for whom having a huge inscription spelling "fatality" in his study was totally reasonable. Arms enclosed her stomach, making her shriek. She threw herself away from him and her back hit the wall. She groaned from the added pain in a place which was already aching.

'Are you hurt?' questioned Frollo, trying to help her. She avoided his hands, but felt something like a lightest thread engulfing her palm. She looked back to see her hand entangled in an extraordinarily long spider web. A crawling thing on her arm made itself noticed the next moment.

She shrieked loudly and flung her arm hither-tither, stopping only when the spider was on the ground and hidden behind a shelf. Frollo's grin made her even annoyed.

'For what reason have you not removed such a thing?'

'ANArKH again,' he answered calmly. 'The spider has built up its web after days of penance. The fly that it catches is young, merry and seeks joy. It is the hand of fate that has given the fly to the spider. The spider must be allowed to devour his fly. It isn't proper to meddle in fatality.'

'Madman!' she cried. 'Utter madman! No wonder people call you a sorcerer.'

He laughed slightly, but his face was giving the idea that he was serious about the allegory. He held her hand. 'If I am a sorcerer, you are a bewitcher. The people hate us equally, that is our fate. That is why we are bound to be together. You resisted, but eventually you had to submit to your fate and love me.'