The Way Stained Glass Shatters

The Kitchens

It was never locked. Those words had been echoing through-out Viviette's mind, pounding the sides of her head like a Goddamned hammer. How could she have been so foolish? She hadn't even thought to check the door.
She tried looking at the bright side. It wasn't so bad. The room she had was small, but it was comfortable. The food was stale, but it was food. And yes, she was paid, but what good was money if she couldn't leave?
Frollo was honest, except for one thing; Her life truly wasn't her own. It was in his hands.
He had freed her, but immediately put her on a temporary 'house arrest'. She wasn't allowed to leave the Palace of Justice. He gave her no answer when she asked when she would be allowed to leave. He hadn't given her much of an answer on anything.
Viviette had been tossed in the kitchens and left to the wolves. The other workers were not very kind to her. If she had questions, there was no answer. If she had statements, no response. Anything she said fell on deaf ears, anything she did was met with immediate reprimands.
"You're over-kneading it."
Flour had covered Viviette's face and clothes, her arms elbow deep in dough. She glared at the man who had spoken to her.
"Would you like to do it?" She spat back, annoyed.
The baker pushed her out of the way and rolled his eyes. "Where did you even come from," He grumbled.
She didn't answer.
Viviette stormed out of the kitchen into the halls. She was fed up. It'd barely been a month and she was absolutely miserable. It almost made her consider going back to the cell.
Almost.
She ran her fingers through her hair, taking a moment to collect herself. She knew if she went back to the kitchens in the state she was in, she would be headed for the gallows- not a cell.
The halls of the palace were lovely, but rather echoey. Every deep breath and footstep was announced before it was even made. It might have been the marble, or the open ceilings, arches towering over her. She strained her neck to look up  at them.
The views made her labor a thousand times better.
"This is not the kitchens."
Viviette jumped and turned to whom had spoken. Her face soured.
"Your expressions speak your mind," Frollo chuckled. "You should be grateful to me."
"Hardly," She crossed her arms in front of her. "Have you ever cared to see where the food you consume comes from?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I've never had the need to."
"I could be poisoning it."
The judge's hand caught Viviette's jaw firmly, but gentle all the same.
"I think you'd know better," He grumbled, brushing a sprinkle of flour off her cheek before letting her go.
Viviette's face turned bright red and she took an abrupt step back. Frollo smirked at her and walked away. Her eyes followed him, her thoughts running a mile a minute.
This was another issue the young girl was having. She hated Judge Claude Frollo. She despised everything he was and everything he stood for. Every single one of their interactions left a terrible taste in her mouth. And yet.
She shook her head and stomped off, away from the kitchens. Away from Claude Frollo. Away from every feeling that had been overwhelming her these past couple of weeks. Away from it all.
She was a mess. Emotionally and physically. She couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a moment to care for herself. She hadn't been eating, she'd barely been sleeping. But most of all-
She missed dancing.
Viviette took Frollo's warning to heart. She hadn't even made an attempt to dance since she had been let out of her cell. She didn't want to risk it. But she'd give anything to be able to.
She collapsed on her bed with a groan. Her feet ached and her head was throbbing. It seemed like she was in constant pain. Maybe it was her body's way of saying it didn't want to be there anymore.
Morbid.
Viviette sat up and looked at the state of her dress. It was nearly in tatters, the constant wear and tear of working with blades and food taking its toll. She had other dresses, sure. The ones she'd been given to work in, the ones she had come with, but none of which were as nice as the one she was wearing. She'd embroidered it a while back, far before she'd returned to Paris.
Embroidery was a pastime of hers, something she tended to do when she was bored. She was good at it, too. Most of her clothes had some sort of decoration to it. With the exception of the clothes she had gotten since she had started working at the Palace of Justice.
She knelt down and pulled out the few dresses she had been given. They were drab, rather boring. Viviette smiled.
She was in desperate need of a distraction.

-THE KITCHENS-

"Are you capable of doing that?"
Viviette's eyes snapped up and she blinked, having just come out of a daze. "Sorry?"
The baker forced a tray into her hands and sneered.
"Food," He jabbed the tray and pointed rather aggressively. "Judge Frollo. Go."
She blew a hair out of her face before begrudgingly walking out of the kitchen. She gripped the tray tightly, the edges digging into her palms. If it were up to her, the food would be stale and molded, the wine bitter and dry.
If it were up to her, Frollo would starve.
The girl cursed silently under her breath. The Palace was so big, yet so empty. She rarely saw anyone that wasn't a servant. Thousands of windows, thousands of rooms, thousands of doors. Frollo could be anywhere. How was she to know where he'd reside?
Yet, her feet knew the answer to her question. Sometimes, on quiet nights, she'd catch him wandering the halls. She'd be lying if she said she'd never followed him. She wanted to know what he did that was so important. Why on earth anyone would see him in such a high light.
To be truthful, she knew no single person did. But there was so much fear when he came by. She couldn't quite understand why. She felt no fear when she saw him.
Viviette stood at his door, completely unsure of what to do. Did she knock? Did she just enter? Neither seemed like a good option. It was completely silent other than the shaking of hands and pounding of her own heart.
Why was she shaking? She didn't fear him.
Fear him.
"Sorry," Viviette muttered, ultimately deciding to knock and enter consecutively.
She didn't look at him, keeping her head down, being careful not to trip or spill. The tray met Frollo's desk with a clink. Her palms were raw from how tightly she'd been gripping it. She wondered if he noticed.
Viviette glanced quickly up at the Judge, her stomach dropping. He was staring at her with such an intensity she felt she'd catch a flame.
"Excuse me," She said quietly, quickly turning her back to him and walking away.
"Stop."
The girl rolled her eyes and groaned, though not loud enough for him to hear.
"Yes, your honor?" She grimaced.
He was no longer looking at her. His attention was now glued to the papers in front of him.
"Those aren't the garments I sent for you," Frollo said coolly.
"They are."
His eyes flicked over to her briefly and she shrugged her shoulders, unsure of exactly what to say.
"They're lilac," Frollo sat up straight, now completely facing where she stood. "I sent you white."
"And I'm grateful," Viviette crossed her arms and forced a smile. "A little red cabbage and some scalding water can make any.. drab.. fabric," She chuckled. "Much more vibrant."
Frollo raised a brow. "You did this?"
She nodded. His eyes lingered on her longer than she would have liked them to. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.
"Come here girl."
Viviette approached him, though slowly. Once she was close enough, he grabbed her wrist, clearly irritated with how much time she was taking.
He investigated the fabrics, taking them between finger and thumb.
"Colorful outfits tend to call more attention from larger crowds," She squeaked, trying not to focus on what he was doing.
"And the stitching?" He ran his fingers over the small vines she had embroidered on the corset.
"A pastime."
Frollo went silent for a moment, as if he was pondering. He still held her wrist in his hand, though delicately. It was almost as if he feared he was going to break her. A single wrong move and she'd shatter.
"I suppose you can mend then," He said finally, letting her go.
She sighed, relieved, and stepped back. "As well as the next."
The Judge turned back to his papers. "You won't be working in the kitchens anymore, then."
Viviette laughed, dryly. "Is it too bold to assume you're giving me my life back?"
"I'll be moving you to the washrooms."
She laughed again, but genuinely this time. "You're calling me a bad cook!"
"You have threatened to poison me one too many times," He took a sip of the wine she had brought and cracked a small smile. "You know as well as I that you hate it there. And the baker is starting to complain."
"Of course he is," She scoffed, crossing her arms.
Frollo smirked at her, and their eyes lingered for a moment longer than either of them would have liked. He cleared his throat.
"It's empty, and it is quiet."
Viviette looked at him, her doe eyes soft. He no longer looked in her direction. He seemed.. anxious. 
"A blessing, your honor," She took a step back to leave, glancing at him once more. "Thank you."