Quasimodo sobbed over the girls lifeless body as Frollo patted his back.
"Quasimodo," he spoke softly, attempting to sound comforting. "I know it hurts. But now the time has come to end your suffering." With this, the Minister raised his dagger, plunging it into the deformed flesh of the man he had raised from a child. "You will hurt no more." He promised.
Quasimodo held the wound, attempting to soften the blow to both his body and heart. He raised his hand to clutch Esmeralda's as he fell to the floor. His breath became labored. He looked up to Frollo, who was glaring down to him, and wondered what he had done wrong. He just wanted to be with one person, yet that chance had never come. He let his eyes close as he let out one last breath.
The Minister turned and walked briskly from the room, heading outside. He aimed to get his troops together and try to get the city back under his control. As he stepped out of the church, he attempted to maintain his composure. He began to mutter to himself, trying to convince his mind that his feelings were false, that the two needed to parish, that he did not care for the misshapen boy nor the gypsy girl.
He glanced around at the decimated town, still not accepting his fault. As he passed the well, the one that he had once attempted to drown Quasimodo in before the man was even named, the minstrel came running out of an alley. He threw himself at Frollo, plunging them both into the pits of the well.