A/N: I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but for this fanfic, Claude Frollo did not perish in a pit of fire. He was simply trialed and exiled. The murder of Phoebus helped the case against him.

Anyway, I do have plans for the chapter after this and how the relationship between Charles and Esmeralda will grow. Although, the rating might, in fact, change. Like I stated previously. I highly doubt I have quite a few number of readers for this story, so I'm not expecting it to be a huge deal if I were to change the rating. Still, tell me your thoughts.

Good Things Shall Come

Charles stood beside his son, Henry, as the young boy tried again at shooting a successful arrow with his new bow. The air was fired into the air and hit a nearby tree, crashing through the leaves and falling into a small, trickling stream. Henry let his shoulders sink in defeat and said with a frown, "That was the tenth one today!"

Hiding his smirk, Charles replied, "Try again. It's going to take practice, son. Just aim for the target." He put a hand on Henry's shoulder. His son would be going off to spend a few months with Catherine, her worries for Henry becoming greatly obvious with the letters she often sent requesting he return to her own manner Charles had purchased for her months prior. Catherine saw that the stress over the conflictions between France and England were taking a toll on many and she refused to have her adoptive son anywhere near that type of chaos. Charles wasn't in total disagreement—whether the concerns came from his heartless wife or not. He'd miss Henry all the same. "I promise, you'll get it eventually. It takes some practice, though."

Henry sighed loudly and headed to fetch more arrows sitting by his quiver a few feet away. Charles watched and steadied his own bow, casting an arrow and hitting the target as he wished. "But I've been practicing!" Whined Henry, tired of the same boring routine.

"Good things come to those who wait, Henry," Charles said with a chuckle.

Henry stood next to his father once again and Charles helped him prepare his arrow and aim. "Have good things happened to you, father, because you waited?" He shot an arrow and it landing in the tall grass near the standing target. Henry looked up at the older man.

Charles grew a smile. "I'd like to think so, yes."

Court was quiet. Or so it seemed. Charles sat alongside the King and Queen, silently counting down the hours until the festivities were over for the night. He had looked forward to tonight, if only he was able to see Esmeralda for a few moments. The King had had him busy for the majority of the week, only allowing free time for Charles to sleep. It was dreadful. But even more dreadful was the scene of not a single Esmeralda in sight.

"Enjoying yourself, Charles?" Henry leaned over and asked, taking a gulp of wine.

"Very much so, Your Majesty," Charles lied. Inwardly, he was glad the King had been held up in treating yet another guest with the best hospitality than to try and engage in another conversation on the assumptions he had over Katherine and her medaling ways. He glanced out over the crowd before added, "It is nice to have some free time on my hands."

Henry laughed, "Well don't let me keep you from spending that free time wisely, my friend."

Charles scooted back his chair and smoothed down his shirt before asking, "May I be excused?"

"Yes, of course," Henry gave a nod and turned his attention back to his wife.

Charles stood and walked off into the crowd, his jaw tight. He had the urge to search every last inch of the large court room, but decided against it. He wasn't some immature young man anymore. He had more important things to think through than to chase after more women.

During his walk toward the doors, the sweet comfort of his chamber bed calling out to him, Charles was nudged roughly by a few dancing girls. They gasped with high pitch tones and backed away with slight fear. "We apologize, Your Grace." One spoke, a shy smile playing across her lips.

With a polite smile, Charles replied tightly, "No worries, M'lady." He pretended not to notice their girlish giggles and seductive looks. If he was ten years younger, he would have danced his fingers along their overly exposed cleavage and whispered tempting things in their ears. That was who he had been. But now, it seemed, his heart could only ache for one woman at a time. And that woman, to his dismay, was out of sight. He tore his eyes away from the girls and his tired blue orbs landed on a moving bush of black curls. "Esmeralda . . ." He narrowed his gaze to get a better view and began walking hurriedly; chasing the feeling of hope that it might be her.

Esmeralda hurried through the court room doors and out into the dark corridor. The candle lit torches flickered their orange flames as she picked up her pace toward her chambers. She forced herself not to look back, the drumming of her heart like a rhythmic thumping in their ears as she began to sprint her way through the hall. She made a sharp turn around a corner and was instantly gripped sharply by two hands, forcing her back against the stone wall.

Like a nightmare that replayed in one's mind after they'd already been waken, Esmeralda stood face to face with Claude Frollo. The elder stared down at her with menacing eyes, lit with their own flames of hatred and disruption. "Well, if it isn't the lovely Esmeralda." His voice cooed, vicious like an angered snake. He hadn't changed much; his angular face still sent shivers down her spine. He'd grown a bit of a beard and his skin had aged incredibly. His clothing was dark and reminded Esmeralda of a demon phantom, a shadow that she'd always be looking out for behind her and in the dark corners of reality.

"Get off me!" Esmeralda growled, shoving at him to no avail. "Frollo, you bastard—"

Frollo held up a bony finger to her lips, but moved it away when she snapped her teeth at it. "Now, now," He grinned like the devil. "Is that any way to treat an old friend, Esmeralda? And to think—I came all this way just to see you."

"Go to hell." She said through grit teeth, her jaw cramped tight enough to cause pain.

The old judge dropped his grin. "As long as you join me, gypsy filth."

Esmeralda narrowed her eyes, dancing her fingers silently to the back of her skirt where a small dagger was safely guarded beneath it and her belt. He had a hold of her upper arms, the grasp threatening to cause bruises. Esmeralda was careful not to attract too much attention to her faint movements. "What do you want, Frollo? Aren't you supposed to be with the King at the gathering?"

"And miss the opportunity to get you alone?" Frollo leaned in to sniff her hair. Esmeralda cringed and tried to squirm away. "I wouldn't dream of it, my dear Esmeralda."

"My people and I aren't in France any longer." Esmeralda said sharply, "You have no control over us here. Here we are guests—not scum."

Frollo laughed, "This isn't about your lewd people, dear. This is about you." His nails bore into her arms as he hissed, "Because of you and your traitor of a husband all those years ago I lost my place among the high and respected. I was forced to live in exile by the King of France himself! Now I'm here to return the favor."

"Esmeralda?"

Charles, she thought with a sudden wash of relief. Esmeralda turned her head as she heard the footsteps grow closer. When she looked back at Frollo, he was glaring with his lip curled in a snarl. "I will inflict pain on you, Esmeralda. More pain than you've ever known. I will make sure the King sees you for what you really are—a stupid little whore." He leaned in, his nose threatening to bump hers as they held eyes. "You're not getting rid of me so easy this time, dear." With that, he let her go and disappeared into the shadows.

"Esmeralda?" Charles called again.

Esmeralda turned the corner and into the brighter lit part of the corridor. Charles paused for a moment when he saw her and then rushed to her side. He folded her in his arms and held on tightly for a long moment in the quiet. Esmeralda felt as if she wanted to melt into his warm embrace, but the feel of Frollo's hands on her arms still lingered like a burn. Charles released her from his embrace and placed his hands on either side of her paled face. "Where have you been? Has something happened?"

Quietly, she answered, "I've been working, is all, Charles."

"Working?" Charles looked doubtful, "What's happened? You look sick." Esmeralda hadn't looked directly into his eyes since she'd shown herself in the empty hall. Her gaze looked distant, scared almost. Even now that he gently moved her head to face him, she stared off into the darkness elsewhere. "Esmeralda—"

"I have to leave, Charles." She said in a whisper. She shifted her eyes up to his then, her lips parted.

"Leave?" Charles shook his head, "I don't understand."

Esmeralda pressed her cheeks closer to his warm palm. She closed her eyes and felt her heart sink. She had no choice, no freedom. She had to leave—she had to escape. She'd go to Clopin tonight and inform him Frollo was back. He was back and he was more than just vengeful. A tear threatened to spill and Esmeralda quickly pulled away from Charles, rubbing the back of her hand against one eye as she turned away to go. "I have to . . ."

Charles caught her hand and guided her back toward him. With a gentle tone, he leaned his head down to meet her at eye level and probed, "Esmeralda. Tell me what has happened."

"I have to leave, Charles." Esmeralda said sternly, pulling her hand out of his. "I cannot even begin to explain what is happening. But there isn't much time to wait around any longer. I have to go—I have to find the nearest ship and leave England before more people . . ." She let the sentence hang in the air.

Charles noticed then the pointed object in Esmeralda's other hand, glinting in the dim light. He baited the small knife from her hold and studied it. Without looking at her, he questioned, "All the better to kill someone with?"

Esmeralda waited for his eyes to meet hers. When they did, he broke into a smile and she couldn't help but return it. "I—"

"Tell me what has happened. I cannot help you unless I know what is wrong first."

"I do not want your help." Phoebus tried to help me, she thought sadly, and he's dead now.

"But you need it." Charles placed the dagger back in her hand.

Esmeralda shook her head slightly, "You wouldn't understand, Charles."

"I understand that Claude Frollo has made himself a guest in our court." He replied without hesitation, implying he knew well what kind of trouble was lurking around. "I understand that—whether or not you'd like to admit it to me—he's got a secret vendetta of his own."

"How do you know all that?" She questioned, her brows creasing.

"An old friend of mine has informed me well of this Frenchman." Charles said, "He's one of the few types of men I'd ever wish to meet. Judging by the look on your face from only moments ago, I feel inclined to ask if he's spoken to you alone since his arrival."

Esmeralda moved to lean against the wall behind her. She felt mentally exhausted. The past week had been nothing but dreading the very instant Frollo would make his move and attack when no one was there to witness it. "He has, yes. That is why I must leave. It feels like there is so much I must tell you about him—about everything—but so little time."

"Stay." Charles placed a slow kiss to her temple. "Stay and explain to me everything you wish to say."

"I cannot."

"Yes, you very well can."

Esmeralda looked up at him, "Why is it this matters so much to you, Charles Brandon?"

Charles replied, "Because you matter to me, of course." She looked skeptical, doubtful. He smirked and pressed a little closer to her, "You matter to me, and that is why I wish to help you. I want—I want to be there to listen to you. I haven't a clue why these feelings have suddenly overcome me, but they have. And because I feel this way toward you, I have no other desire but to assist you in any way I can. That is what you do in this type of situation, M'lady."

Esmeralda didn't protest when he captured her lips with his, pressing against her and cradling the back of her head with intense care. He moved his mouth against hers in the most talented of ways, almost making her forget her concerns and fears. It took most of her energy to pull away and speak, "I could be making a very huge mistake in trusting you with this."

Charles chuckled, "I could be saying the same to you, love. But if it's one thing I've learned while at this court, it's that trust is a very valuable and rare thing. And if you find it in a single person, it must be worth the while."

Esmeralda stood up on the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, the dagger still firmly in her hand. She kissed him hard and slow, savoring his taste and feel.

Charles pulled away briefly, "Come with me to Suffolk for a while." He said, "Stay there and put your mind at rest for a few days. It will be safe there, and you can bring whomever you please." Charles paused for a moment, releasing a shaky breath, "Just—just don't leave so soon. I need you here, even if it's just for a little while longer."

Truly, for the first time in a long time, Esmeralda found that Charles Brandon was—out of an awfully horrible situation—a very good thing.

A/N: So, what do you think—some time in Suffolk with the handsome Duke? Should be pretty tempting, no? ;)