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In the Light of Burning Paris	By : Kuronohime Category: G through L > Hunchback of Notre Dame, The (Movies only) > Hunchback of Notre Dame, The (Movies only) Views: 8831 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996) is the property of The Walt Disney Company. I make no monetary profit by writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-In the Light of Burning Paris
- 2-In the Garden of Eden
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- 2
“Minister Frollo, the gypsy has escaped.”
Frollo faced away from the fireplace. He looked at the guard who stood at the doorway of his chamber. Frollo’s eyes were aflame with rage. “What…“ His ominous voice rose like a simmering storm and the guard hasted to explain “She's no longer in the cathedral. She's… gone.”
“But how, I. . . never mind. Get out, you idiot!” Frollo spat out and turned his back at the guard. The door closed behind him and the gray-haired man returned his gaze to the fire. He could still see her dancing silhouette in the flames. His fingers were wrapped around the scarf she had given him and he squeezed his hand into a fist.
“I'll find her. I'll find her if I have to burn down all of Paris!” His threat echoed on the empty walls of his chamber. Frollo threw the scarf into the flames and stood there watching how the flames consumed the embroidered fabric.
‘She will choose me or she’ll choose the flames.’
***
All of Paris knew Frollo was on a hunt. All the gypsies were fleeing either underground or leaving the city. There was no pebble left upended as Frollo’s guards searched through the streets and buildings of Paris. If any Parisian was suspected of hiding gypsies, they were to be immediately executed on Frollo’s orders. Terrified citizens fled their homes, street pavement glistened with dark blood in the moonless nights and the abandoned buildings left behind were consumed by raging flames. Chaos reigned.
Frollo was growing tired of waiting. He knew the gypsies had a lair underneath the city and he had assigned some of his best guards to investigate the sewers. That excluding Captain Phoebus, for some recent regrettable circumstances. His ‘resignation’ was unfortunate, but had not gone to waste. For Frollo knew that his little hunchback was helping the wounded Captain. Or rather ex-captain. Quasimodo had hid him in the bell tower and in his childlike delusion thought that Frollo was unaware of this. But he didn’t intervene - for now. They would surely lead him to Esmeralda.
“Minister Frollo?”
Frollo turned away from the window that laid out a nightly view of the May Courtyard. He neatly swiped away a strand of hair that had escaped to his forehead.
“Yes, do you have a word on them?”
A guard who had addressed him earlier answered, “Yes, the warden just saw Quasimodo exiting the Notre Dame with the fugitive Phoebus. Couple of our men are on their tail.”
Frollo’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. “Ready my horses.”
***
Frollo, alongside his few best men, were closely following Phoebus and Quasimodo who had led them to the old graveyard. Frollo’s men hid in the shadows while the two friends of the gypsy girl kindly revealed the secret entry to the Court of Miracles.
Quasimodo heaved open a stone coffin that hid a stairway to the sewers. Phoebus followed him down and Frollo signalled his men to wait. The light of Phoebus’ torch was dimming as the pair descended the stairs. Truth to be told, he was quite surprised that neither the Captain nor his ward had already gotten a hunch of the presence of his men.
The minister’s lips twisted into an ominous grin. ‘Simpletons.’
When they could no longer hear the hunchback and his friend, Frollo gestured his men to continue the pursue.
***
As the pair of simpletons ran straight into the gypsy ambush in the sewers, Frollo commanded his messenger to go and fetch the backup. They were surely nearing the gypsy nest. Phoebus and Quasimodo were captured and dragged deeper into the sewer system by a pack of gypsies. Frollo followed them closely behind.
The few gypsy guards that were left to keep an eye on the entrance were no match to Frollo’s men. A limp body of a gypsy man fell into the shallow water as Frollo’s man drew his sword out of the corpse.
Crimson colour seeped into the soiled water and it soon dissipated as Frollo’s men waded through the bloody trail.
***

As they finally reached the Court of Miracles, the first frontier was enforced by the backup that arrived conveniently just as the gypsies were attempting to flee. Phoebus had warned them that Frollo’s men were coming, but the poor sod had no idea how close they truly were.
Frollo watched with amusement the little play that unfolded before his eyes. The gypsies were dashing in every direction, gathering their belongings, leaving some behind. The smallest children were crying in the laps of their mothers. Rats, the lot of them. Fleeing the sinking ship, but too late.
Frollo turned his gaze to the woman who stood in the middle of the plaza. Esmeralda. His blood fumed with anticipation. Soon. Soon, the gypsy would be his. And only his.
As he saw Esmeralda enfold her saviour, the Captain, with gratefulness, Frollo felt a wave of ridicule wash over him. That fool of a man would not live to feel the arms of Esmeralda around him ever again.
As Phoebus and Esmeralda let go of each other, Phoebus turned his eyes to Quasimodo.
“Don’t thank me, thank Quasimodo. Without his help, I would have never found my way here.”
“Nor would I”
Frollo’s words echoed over the commotion and hundreds of eyes turned to look at him. His men immediately barged behind him to the plaza. All hell broke loose and now the men and women were screaming in panic. The shrill voices of the women pierced his ears. One guard struck silent a woman who was screaming hysterically. She fell on the ground, cradling her face in pain.
Frollo’s men had surrounded the whole plaza. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
He began slowly walking towards Phoebus, Quasimodo and Esmeralda that were beleaguered by his guards. He spoke calmly over the racket and chaos.
“After twenty years of searching,” Frollo lifted up his arm in grand gesture, “the Court of Miracles is mine at last.” He threw a victorious gaze at Esmeralda and walked up to his misshaped ward. Never letting his eyes leave Esmeralda.
“Dear Quasimodo,” he ran his fingers through his hair, “I always knew you would some day be of use to me.” He said with gentleness in his voice and walked pass Quasimodo to Esmeralda.
“What are you talking about?” Esmeralda hissed.
“Why, he led me right to you… My dear.” Frollo answered and caressed her cheek with his finger. Her skin was so smooth.
“You’re a liar.” Esmeralda said, her voice full of hatred.
Frollo removed his finger from her face. She would tame.
He finally tore his eyes off her and turned his face to the fugitive Captain who stood next to Esmeralda.
“And look what else I’ve caught in my net.” Frollo walked straight up to Phoebus. He wanted to get in his face. “Captain Phoebus, back from the dead. Another… miracle, no doubt.”
Phoebus was clearly affected by the taunting tone of Frollo’s voice and he tried to barge at him, but the guards pulled him back by the chains he was bind to. Frollo did not flinch. That stupid underling would be taken care of. He quickly glanced at Esmeralda and back at Phoebus. An image of the Captain holding the gypsy woman flashed before his eyes. “I shall remedy that.” He growled and walked back to the center of the plaza.
He looked around him and the hapless rats in their chains, some bruised, and some had tears flowing down their terrified faces.
“There’ll be a little bonfire in the square tomorrow and you’re all invited to attend.” Frollo announced. He waved his hand apathetically to the guards “Lock them up.”
“No!” Quasimodo cried and sank to his knees. He grabbed the hem of Frollo’s cloak and begged, “Please, master.”
Frollo wordlessly glared at the hunchback. As Quasimodo saw his cold and feral eyes that held no mercy, he let the cloak slip from his grasp. “No, no…” He whispered in sobs.
“Take him back to the bell tower. And make sure he stays there.”
Two of the guards grabbed Quasimodo by his shoulders and dragged him away. Frollo did not spare even a glance at his ward’s direction. He only had eyes for Esmeralda now. The girl was desperately fighting back the guards that tried to hold her still.
Frollo gestured a guard to him. “The woman, Esmeralda. Take her to the Conciergerie. I want to question her - personally.”
He watched as the guard walked up to the other guards that were trying to cease Esmeralda’s writhing. The two guards halted for a moment and then nodded. They began walking her to a different direction than the other prisoners.
***
Some time later, Esmeralda found herself tight to a wooden chair in a small, stale room. They were inside the premises of the palace of justice. The room’s interior décor, or the lack thereof, was ascetic and simple. The only furniture was a table and the chair she was tight to. Light was dim, only a few candles on the drawing desk cast shadows on the stone walls.
She was left there alone with only a one guard. No one had explained to her where she had been taken to, but the room infiltrated with the fragrance of Claude Frollo. It made her crawl under her skin.
She tried to yank her wrists free, but she was tight down securely. The only thing she managed to do was to get abrasions on her skin. The guard gave her a sideway glance, but said nothing. Esmeralda could feel her entire body ache; bruises were already forming on her arms and legs. She kept struggling for a while, but eventually gave up. Sweat trickled down her neck. They would have to free her sooner or later, so she would wait for now.
After a long silence that seemed to continue for hours, she could hear footsteps from the hallway outside. The steps drew closer and suddenly ceased. The guard turned his back to Esmeralda and walked to the door. It flung open and a tall, pale man clad in a dark robe walked in. His dark, sinister eyes sought out Esmeralda’s and halted.
“You are dismissed.” Frollo stated simply, his gaze never lifting from her features. The guard nodded in silent understanding and left the room. When the door closed, Frollo immediately stepped closer to Esmeralda. He didn’t say anything, merely stared at her with that ominous gleam in his feverish eyes. He did not smile, but he seemed elated and victorious. Like he had finally obtained something that had been long yearned.
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In the Light of Burning Paris