A/N Alright, I know this is late and I haven't posted anything in over a month. For that, I deeply apologize to those who were disappointed. I just hope none of you lost faith that I would update this story! Glad to be back, but to be honest, I've had a lot to deal with this past month and was unable to write much. On top of that, I was struggling with how to fit a certain person into this ending and he's had me on the fence for quite a while. Anyway please be sure to tell me what you thought even though for many of you I know there's not much to say- just that you stuck around despite me not updating is nice enough. Okay this note has gone on long enough. Onto the story!
Frollo glared up at the cathedral in which her article of vengeance had been kidnapped to. The warm stone facade seemed almost sentient in the glow of the gypsy's abandoned and dying pyre, the heat and smoke warping the beautiful crowning achievement of Paris's religious reputation as a fair city of God. The statues gazed upon her menacingly as they had that one winter's night she'd opened a Pandora's box of torment and agony in the form of a child she'd attempted to love despite her endless amount of shortcomings. Their eyes blazed with a familiar glow that caused a welling fear deep within her immortal soul- all that could possibly overshadow it was the anger she held for her adopted daughter for ruining her chances at salvation and her chance to end not only her unholy desire for a street urchin, but to end her own lustful torments. Leon had been an easy target with much to lose like countless others she'd pined for. He had been spineless and weak even as a free man to her. While she'd forced him to accept a life of fulfilling her rather heavy desires, he had accepted it all the same, and therefore was no longer a sin in her eyes. Esmerald, on the other hand, had no qualms about turning her down despite the punishment he would receive for rejecting her. Frollo had, in an essence, never accepted the word no from anyone, and knew come hell or high water, she would be willing to end him to end her own involvement. So long as she fulfilled her lust for young men or her lust for vengeance, life would remain blissful for herself regardless of anyone who suffered or got in her way.
And as much as she attempted to tolerate and love Quasimoda, in the end, there was no difference between the unfortunate soul, and those she'd sentenced to die in brutal floggings and hangings. They had all not only defied the law, but defied her. That was a crime that she could never forgive, no matter who they were to her or what they pretended to be.
A blind, sly grin from behind in his cage created a cold sweat on her lower back. She refused to turn around and acknowledge her victims triumph. It would be only fitting brother and sister died within the same hour.
Whirling towards her new captain, a slender nobody with an unfortunately long and garish mustache, she threw a jeweled index finger in the direction of her conquest. "Captain," She snapped. "Seize the cathedral."
A visible look of awe surfaced on the man's face. He closed her jaw from where it had hung. "Ma'am, are you certain-"
"Do as I say!" She cut him off with a ferocious burst of concentrated anger. "Take this structure with your entire squadron. Leave the fat ones behind." She quipped, gaze flickering back towards the Parisians. "If those fools want their martyr freed then they shall watch his body bleed on the streets. I don't care what methods you use, so long as the incubus is brought to me."
The captains doubt immediately keeled over in the face of such twisted aggression. Frollo took no time to notice his obedience. She took her leave from the platform as an unseasonably warm breeze blew through the main square and the hungry orange flames flared to life once more and began to eat away at the structure of the pyre. Curls of thick, black smoke wafted towards the blood red sky. There were shouts of protest and discontent coming from the unraveling compliance of the Parisians.
Suddenly, their cries were overshadowed by a rush of panicked shouts from the men marching in the direction of the cathedral. Frollo barely saw the massive shadow in the darkened red sky. The freshly cut wooden beam, the product of a once mighty oak, sailed down towards the judge as she visibly jumped back, unwilling to be done in by a measly tree. Her carriage, however, did not have similarly quick reflexes. Her imposing vehicle was rendered scrap metal in seconds as her midnight black horse bucked, free from its reins for the second time in twenty four hours. The judge could only watch in awe, her mouth puckering as her horse disappeared out of sight and her guards scattered like mindless mayflies.
Her glare leveled with the bell tower. It was no mystery at this point who'd sent that beam. Quasimoda was smarter than she originally thought. Had she not been using her mind to sabotage herself she knew that this was the sort of behavior she would've discouraged. Having a powerful mind was a strength Frollo had always assumed Quasimoda lacked. But a mere heavyweight wasn't about to stop her pursuit to end the gypsy and the hunchback, even if many of her idiot guards now sang a different tune. It struck Frollo that she would need a slightly less cowardly bunch of self-proclaimed heroes to replace the ones guilty of insubordination.
"Come back here, you cowards!" She yelled at the men who fled the possibility of instant death from above by a deformed hunchback. A few either brave or stupid souls turned back to the judge as she tore her triangular hat from her head and cast it aside. She picked up a polished sword from one of her former soldiers. Her eyes focused on the iron latticed double doors.
"You men," She gestured to the tiny army of ten who looked upon her with exasperation and silent terror. She waved the sword at the massive piece of wood that had destroyed her mode of transport. "Pick up that beam. Break down the door!"
To say Phoebe disliked the man who replaced her as captain was a grave understatement. He'd been a useless pawn with no prior experience in leading anything more than two ditzy drunk coworkers home from a night at the tavern pounding away mug after mug of ale. He was a pathetic man with little understanding of justice or good that wasn't influenced by his superior. She couldn't have thought less of him if she tried. After all, he was the very same man who'd made an attempt on her life and harassed a poor teenager for kicks. He'd been a complete and total waste of her time. To watch him wield such a decorated position that had once been hers was shameful to what she stood for.
Mostly, she watched his many screw ups and silently made note of each and every misstep and mistake. It was a good reference for those who were already new enough to recruitment as it was. It was also a veiled way for Phoebe to pity her own eventual demise, knowing she'd been miles ahead of the new prized puppet of the cruel judge.
While normally she would've avoided worsening her current condition by staying put, it was rather obvious that should Quasimoda or Esmerald stand a chance against an armada, they would need her help. Her opportunity arose the moment Frollo commanded that the cathedral's doors needed to be neutralized. And while her plan called upon the lowest instincts she could muster, simply knocking out a guard in a crowded area would only be the straw that broke the camel's back. As the pudgy, stupid guard began to move, the blonde whistled low enough for only the weak minded man to hear.
He whirled around with a withering scowl. It quickly melted away as Phoebe unbuttoned the top of her jacobite shirt, implying what the man was to witness. Thick gauntlets closed around the bars as the tin plated buffoon began panting softly like a feral wolf in the dead of mating season. Strolling to the edge of the cage, the former captain smiled through her discomfort at her captors thirsty intentions.
"What a handsome man you are," She began to flirt while struggling to keep the sarcasm from her tone. For a split second the man's eyes flickered to up from her slightly exposed chest. She shivered internally and reminded herself it was too late to back off now. "You know if you were to let me out of here, I know a place we could go for some," She swallowed her tongue. "Fun."
Being careful to keep herself from grabbing distance, Phoebe carefully slid a hand out of the cage as the man stared wide-eyed, ogling her parts similar to the manner a beggar would longingly stare at the scraps of a chicken bone. Her fingers slid along the stubbly cheek of the rotund soldier. Her other hand closed around the ring of keys at his leather scabbard. He seemed to be salivating now as his imagination seemed to run wild at the faintest possibility of receiving action with a female.
Seizing her opportunity before the missing link could make a move, she encircled her hand around the blubber of his neck and slammed his face into the bars of her cage with all the strength she could muster. An audible snap came from his face and she silently cursed hoping no one had heard it. Held tight in her fist, the ring of keys popped off of the scabbard and the unconscious guard slumped to the cobblestone below. Through complete luck it took her no time at all to locate the correct one and in mere moments she was free as the marksmen and remaining soldiers began to smash into the cathedral's door with the beam.
Relieving the man of his pike, she buttoned her shirt back up and swore silently to never do that again. She then paused as her plan reached a sudden pothole. Of the citizens in the square, as many as half were not fluent in French, and there was absolutely no guarantee that they would listen to her after Frollo had captured them due in part to herself. While it was likely the amount that were not imprisoned could do the job, numbers were a distinct advantage Phoebe could never forget on field or in Paris.
Spying her solution ten feet to her right she slipped along the empty cage until she reached the one she had in mind. A large man reclined in the corner, his arms crossed as he gazed towards the cathedral. Even from where she stood she could tell his teeth were gritted in silent rage. Unwilling to waste too much time as the guards delivered their fifth mammoth swing to the cathedral door, she began to try keys on the locking mechanism.
Leon seemed to notice her presence the instant she'd stepped onto his cage. "What do you think you're doing?" His tone was somewhere between disgust and surprise.
Phoebe groaned. "If you want me to stop and leave you here then by all means I'd be glad to go free your girlfriend over there." She jabbed a thumb over her shoulder to where Celestine shook wildly at her confines like a vicious January wind. This seemed to silence the sculptor for a moment, as if contemplating the meaning of her words before shaking his head.
"She'd be the better option." He simply replied.
"Are you saying you want me to leave you here?" The captain was quickly growing weary of the imprisoned man's interruptions. She jammed another key into the lock and cursed as it failed.
"Don't mistake my words." He nearly growled. "If you think I'm going to let Frollo lay a finger on Quasimoda then you can go and let me break out of here myself."
"Really?" She snipped and shook the lock angrily. "And just how," The blonde tried another key and nearly threw the ring far from her. "Are you planning to do that? You gypsies always have a plan, but breaking through iron bars is a stupid and rather impossible one."
Leon seemed bothered by the comment. "You have a rather stupid assumption about us, captain. And you expect to win them over with what, a smile?"
She rolled her eyes and tried another key. "Very funny. I'm not winning over these people, Leon. You are."
"Since when do you think they'll listen to me?" He raised an eyebrow incredulously. "Just because I have ties with the queen doesn't mean they'll give me an audience."
Phoebe tried the final key on the ring. "Well then you'll just have to turn on that special charm of yours." She grunted as the lock clicked and she swung the door open. "Just translate what I say." She finished before climbing atop the cage and giving a hand to the blind man as he too followed her footsteps.
Looking around the restless sea of people that crowded the massive square, she wielded her spear with precision as the gypsy took to nearly mirroring her stance. She cleared her throat.
"Citizens of Paris," She addressed them with as loud a voice as she could produce in the smoky atmosphere. "We have watched for days as Frollo burned our homes and livelihoods, ransacked our city, and reduced it to the outskirts of hell!" She took a breath as Leon repeated her exact words in the tongue of the Roma. "Now," She pointed the iron tip of the spear towards the towering religious structure. "She has declared war on Notre Dame herself! Will we allow it?" She questioned hoisting the weapon high into the air as if to accentuate her point.
A unified shout of 'no' rang throughout the city from people both Parisian and gypsy. Almost instantly the line of fat guards were toppled like twigs and trampled beneath the lynch mob of angry citizens finally fed up with judge Frollo's antics. Decades of fear and oppression melted away at an alarmingly quick rate. Every man, woman, and child was storming through the square in the direction to their holy place of worship. The blonde felt a swelling sense of pride beneath the anger for her former leader and turned to thank Leon. There was no sign he was even there, and she rolled her eyes with a grin before hopping from the cage, spear in hand.
As she charged through the square with the others the beautiful echo of snapping padlocks rang in her ears along with a carrying battle cry. The once pungent scent of smoke lifted higher almost like an act of God. She saw farmers and business owners beating down the marksmen with ordinary tools she never would've assumed could hold any significance in battle. Rakes, shovels, even blunt pieces of wood were used unconventionally against the forged steel of swords and dirks. She even saw women putting frying pans and even lengths of fabric while younger children scurried and caught the brawling adults off guard. Every single Parisian was out performing the city's best and bravest by sheer number and intelligence. While in any other case it would've been a sign of weakness, it brought joy to the blonde war hero to see her side winning.
High above the battle on the ground, Quasimoda and the gargoyles were scrambling about the towers and subduing the many guards who'd resorted to climbing the cathedral's walls with ladders and ropes. The hunched young woman limped as quickly as she could around the vast area, large hands lifting blocks of carving stone and lining them up like grey geese in a row along the towers railing. Hazel eyes trained on a ladder to the south side, and with a huff she shoved the first of her bricks off the edge. The object, like the beam, plummeted to earth and with a resounding crack and many screams, struck its target with more or less perfect accuracy.
While her methods were rudimentary at best, they seemed to be doing the trick to subdue the goons with ladders. Rather quickly she'd exhausted her supply of bricks as the soldiers exhausted their methods.
Or so it seemed. The sound of iron on stone caught her attention as a strange, four pronged hook wedged itself within the gap of the railing, a rope clearly attached. She instantly grabbed the implement and gave a sharp yank. The weight on the rope slackened and over the brawling in the square she could hear the terrified screams of men falling from the rope into the icy waters of the Seine.
"That's our girl!" Harry shouted between a mouthful of rubble before going back to firing the small pebbles at the attacking forces far below. Quasimoda cracked a reassuring smile.
"Quasi!" Victoria suddenly broke her silence from where she'd been working. "Can you give me a hand?"
She huffed under the weight of another stone brick as another ladder was propped against the cathedral. A tired grunt surfaced as she heaved the massive heavyweight over the edge and a pleasant sound of splintering came from below. "Can't Lorenzo help you?" She cast a quick glance at the delicate gargoyle.
"He seems to be a bit busy at the moment." Victoria gave the strange object she was working on a shove only for it to scoot a few centimeters and her arms to crack and flake. Quasimoda looked around, but didn't see him. Victoria rolled her eyes and pointed towards the north tower rail. The elderly gargoyle stood at the very edge, waving his arms around wildly.
"Fly, my bella's!" He commanded as the hundreds of roosting pigeons and birds began to leave the tower and dive towards the street. "Fly! Fly!" He cackled madly like a wicked sorceress.
Knowing that finally being rid of his tormentors was an occasion to be celebrating, Quasimoda began to move the massive object the gargoyle was building. It was comprised mostly of beams, some rope, and possessed two standing candelabras to improve its limited mobility. It also had a massive rock on the end of a long bar, almost like a catapult.
"Just keep pushing!" Victoria grunted. "Towards the bridge!" And the hunchback complied.
After only a few moments the edge of the strange contraption was teetering on the brink of the stone floors edge. Quasimoda took a moment to rest, sudden fatigue catching up to her from her exhaustive efforts to keep the cathedral safe. Victoria hopped about the weapon, peering between the many crevices and cracks as if checking it a final time.
"So," She took a deep breath. "What does it do?" The ginger panted, wiping her glistening forehead.
"You'll find out. One more push should do it!" Victoria began laughing in a manner most similar to Lorenzo's, however it was much more disturbing considering her usually cautious and overly apologetic nature. With a sigh, the hunchback threw her weight against the wheeled machine and it tumbled from the forty foot height, its sudden descent making the majority of the guards not holding the beam panic and scatter. The object seemed to land upside down directly behind where many of the guards had grouped and released a sigh of relief. Quasimoda gave her friend a look of confusion.
"What good did that do?" She raised an eyebrow.
Victoria's laughter faded to a grin. "And in three, two, one…"
The spring loaded catapult shuddered slightly and the hunched young woman threw her gaze back towards it. The heavy rock which was grounded to the cobblestone acted as a counterweight as the bottom flat base sprung forward with mechanized perfection and crushed the guards as easily as ten empty tin cans.
"Works for me." Quasimoda admitted and gave her companion a pat on the back, proud at the gargoyles ingenuity towards disposing of the guards.
Down below Phoebe fought the soldiers that recognized her as the one who'd started the uprising against them and targeted her seemingly out of some desire for revenge the former captain hadn't realized she'd earned. Armed with only a spear in a square full of highly trained men with hatchets and swords, she knew the odds weren't exactly in her favour. The soldiers and guards seemed to take her in small clusters like silver plated wasps intent on striking her as a bigger force. For that amount of strategy, she had to give them some credit. Originally she wouldn't have thought them capable of such brain, or brawn for that matter.
Using her spear as a brace to make the men keep their distance, she put her method to the test. One man who was unarmed charged at her, throwing his weight onto her thin wooden pole. With a shove, she loosened his grip and gave a snarl before kneeing him in the groin, the one place he wasn't heavily protected. Her knee still stung from the impact against a paper thin sheet of iron, but it was well worth it to watch him double over, incapacitated.
Whirling around at the sound of footfalls, three more unarmed goons charged at her. Thrusting the spear up and bracing herself, she managed the push the three of them to the ground as the bloodthirsty townspeople saw to finishing the job and dragged them back into the bigger brawl.
More footsteps were heard, and Phoebe braced her spear only to be met with the tiny fist of a girl, the black gloved fist knocking her square in the eye. She barely had time to ready herself to use the sharper end of the spear before the owner of the fist began to speak.
"Where is he?" She seemed rather impatient and not at all apologetic for hurting someone on her side.
"Who, Leon?" Phoebe guessed, slightly startled.
"Yes, Leon!" Celestine snapped. "He disappeared after getting me out of that cage! We need to find him."
The former captain's eyes widened. "Behind you!" She warned as the raven haired girl spun and delivered a beautifully timed kick to the soldiers jaw, and multiple white teeth could be seen scattering to the street as the man toppled like a sack of flour. Phoebe herself as greeted with another guard and gave a hard shove only for another one to come from behind. For a moment the blonde faltered, a fatal mistake until the gypsy came from behind her and drove a knife into his shoulder, subduing him in an instant.
Both of them stared in slight astonishment at each other, realizing that they'd just simultaneously saved their rivals lives. There was a moment where both of them nodded and the gypsy queen moved to the captain's back, covering her. Very quickly the men began to seemingly respawn, this time weapons in hand. Three more men were ended and the tanner of the two gained a long handled axe. Phoebe's flimsy spear was quickly compromised by a tubbier guard, and Celestine passed her the newly acquired weapon.
"Why are you so attached to Leon?" The blonde managed to question in the brief moment of rest they had. "He's tried to kill you and he seems capable to handling things I wouldn't expect him to."
The gypsy girl shook her head. "You don't know him like I do." She delivered a swipe of her dirk to an incoming guard and kicked his shin so he tumbled backwards. "He's capable of so many things, and that's his biggest problem. Him nearly killing me was bullheaded, blondie. If someone isn't there to stop him he becomes reckless!"
Phoebe broke her stance from behind her fighting companion and blocked the swing of another sword with the handle of her hatchet, using her weight to hold him back and giving a final shove only for a baker to whack him unconscious with a bread peel.
"Well," She grunted as her suture began to burn. "I have as much insight as you do. You gypsies have a habit of appearing and disappearing out of nowhere, I've noticed."
"Where do you think we get our desire to go unnoticed, captain?" Celestine countered sarcastically. "Your predecessors often forced us to be stealthy."
"Yeah? Well I'm not one of them anymore." She grunted under the weight of a larger soldier who'd delivered his strike with impressive strength. Celestine whirled around and knifed him in the abdomen and the man slumped to the cobblestones.
She wiped sweat from her brow. "I guess not."
Phoebe took the man's sword, and offered it to the gypsy queen, who shook her head. She then removed her dirk from his stomach, flicking the blood from it before tossing it to her former enemy, forcing her to drop the hatchet. Suddenly sensing another attack, she spun and threw the bloody blade, the weapon sinking into its targets forearm and falling him. Phoebe let out a low whistle of impressment before taking the gypsy's weapon and stepping over the guard.
She turned back around, and Celestine and the hatchet were nowhere to be found. With a thoughtful grin, Phoebe charged onward, only to realize the wooden handle of the dirk was dyed a brilliant shade of purple. Fitting for a queen, The blonde thought.
Only a moment passed before she saw the captain of the guard storming towards her, sword drawn with intent to do harm. Sliding the dirk into the heel of her boot, she held the sleek blade she'd been trained with all her life and chuckled wantonly. This was a fight she looked forward to having.
The man she despised charged with a loud and annoying battle cry. Inside, the former captain counted every step, performing her fighting with this one almost for show, as if she were so ready to beat her replacement no effort was really necessary. He swung with her polished blade, obviously having stood back and watched his companions do all the work for him to remain a decorated object of Frollo's design. She blocked it with gritted teeth.
"I see you have my sword," She remarked and shoved him off of her.
"Easily won from a scared little girl." The captain sneered, tightening his gauntlet. Phoebe frowned at the childish insult. Normally, she'd consider herself above such childish behavior, but for once, she allowed her younger self to take the reigns and win, even if it wasn't as clean or as fair.
"Easily handled for a drunken waste!" She swung and he blocked.
The captain held her in a stalemate. "Do you really want to risk taunting me? Maybe when you lose I'll let you keep that mouth." He growled.
"Of course not," She lightly chuckled, weakening her grip for a moment and recalling how she'd stopped Esmerald from killing her in the church. "After all," Phoebe delivered a swift kick to both his legs, knocking him to the ground as she pressed recovered her sword and pressed the other one to the man's face. "You really need to shave."
Before he could stop her, his massive handlebar mustache was scattered and shortened. With a vile curse he attempted to recover by getting out of her way. He barely got to his knees before Djali collided with his rear end and sent him flying a full five feet towards Hippolyte. Phoebe hadn't even noticed she was there. A second guard, the fat one who'd pulled a dagger on her in the street, appeared and in a second she had him in a headlock. She cast a dubious glance over to her horse where the captain had face planted directly beneath her horses rear.
"Lyta, sit." She commanded as she took to denting the man's skull with the blunt end of her sword.
The white horse complied obediently, and the guards head was crushed under her backside. He struggled and cursed from beneath the beast and Phoebe grinned at her enemies well deserved misfortune.
"Put your backs into it!" Frollo shouted as the men delivered another rough swing to the massive locked doors. She could see the darkness of the stone facade within, the distant shadows of candelabras stretching along the tiles. Through the iron trellis decor there were no signs of life from inside.
She was slowly but surely gaining ground on the cathedral despite the citizens of her city declaring war upon her pursuit for a just cause. Their opposition to her was barely heard over the sound of the beam smashing into the wooden doors. She swung her sword with vigor at the doors almost like a flag semaphore would on a mighty ship. The judge hardly doubted the strength within her men and that they would eventually break the door down, regardless of the Parisians that were making quick work of her guards. There would be justice come morning, and her dear daughter and both toys would pay the price for their sins.
The judge casually moved herself to within the arch, wanting to be the first one through and one step closer to the marksman acting as bulldozers. Finally the crack in the wood split wide open into a gaping maw, the black latticework bent ungracefully out of shape. They were finally making progress after many potential minutes wasted. The judge made a silent note to strangle the archdeacon or whomever had decided to bolt the door and make their efforts all the more difficult.
However, before they could finish the job of breaking down the door with one final, guided swing, there was a familiar sound that was extremely out of place. For the many guards and Frollo herself, water within the city was becoming a rarer sight with each home burnt to the ground. It was also early to mid January, the absolute least hospitable time for flowing or running water. The sound of the above aqueducts churning to life caught her mens attention, however Frollo didn't notice the sound however suspicious is could've been.
"What are you all doing?" She snapped, unwilling to yield to even the slightest setback to her orders… not when they were so close.
One of the men closest audibly gulped. "Ma'am, listen," He seemed uneasy. Frollo took a second to processes the sound.
"It's simply cold water, you idiots." She concluded with an irritated and light groan to her mens childish fears. One more swing would do it. If they weren't going to be cooperative Frollo had plenty of ways of ensuring they would be. However, something within her forced the elderly judge to look up at the concluded water- clear with stray crystals shimmering in the light of the fires and warmed by smoke.
But her mouth opened wide as the gargoyle aqueducts released something different. She couldn't have been more wrong about her assumption. She only realized it when a dull glow could be seen raining from high above. Many of her men began to scream and the beam clattered to the stone with an audible thud. Molten iron poured down from the massive cathedral, a shade so bright and orange terror flashed beneath her grey eyes at the thought of Esmerald in her stone hearth.
She couldn't move. She couldn't scold her men for fleeing. She had absolutely no inkling as to how Quasimoda had even managed to procure such a weapon from where she was. It grew closer, and even hidden beneath the edge of the thick, inlaid arch, Frollo still pressed into the door trapped between the House of God, and the Rivers of Hell. There was something almost entrancing about the molten glow of the lava as it flowed like the golden fluids of a massive sunset. Her head swiveled to both sides and she realized in horror the fire was pouring from all aqueducts, creating a blazing, scalding curtain that bubbled and frothed as it ate through the beam as easily as a running stream carved weary spring ice.
The judge instinctively threw an elbow up to protect her face from any stray droplets of iron, and drove the sword into a crack of the door. In moments it became clear that the curtain was flaring onto the steps, giving her a close, uncomfortable view of eternal damnation. Turning back to the massive door, she swung her sword into the hole, splinters of wood scattering onto the immaculate tile. Taking care and balance, she climbed through the entrance and dusted herself off. The blinding orange light framed her silhouette in a long, imposing shadow.
She didn't see a single soul ahead of her. The glow of the hellish waterfall only extended a few feet past herself. Frollo could see the feet of candelabras, the cracks in the tile, and through the firelight that shone in the stained glass window, she could see the spiral steps up to the bell tower.
But as she took another step, there was a sudden presence in the room that the elderly judge became aware of. It certainly wasn't the archdeacon. She recognised the prominent scent of ashes and fear.
"Come on, dear. I know you're here somewhere." She skulked, moving to the wall as her shadow was quickly cut at the root. Sword bared, Frollo waited for a response. When she didn't receive one, she glared at the darkness beyond the reaches of the molten irons abilities. "You should know better than to hide from me, Leon. We both know I'm leaving this room alive."
A cracked voice on the edge of a chuckle emanated from the darkness. "We both know I'm not letting that happen."
"Cowardly, as always." Frollo taunted. "You always have been so. Even in bed, you quiver beneath the sheets. You obviously have some misguided notion that you can beat me so," She spread her arms as if giving herself up. "Come on. Let us have a genuine swordfight. I'll give you a chance at saving your deformed little sister."
A low growl came from the darkness, and he took a step closer. She could see the shadow of his receded, unshaven cheeks. A length of pink fabric was tied around his head. Blind, his eyes always carried more emotion. She could also see the gleam of a dagger poised in his right hand,
"I'm glad you said that." He responded, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Why?" Frollo questioned, nose wrinkled and unimpressed.
"Because it proves you're breakable." He sneered. "I would know a thing or two about that, Claudia." Pride came before the fall- it was a saying Frollo hardly recognized personally outside of her religious reasonings.
"We'll certainly see, Leon." The judge countered. "I'm nothing if not a fair woman. I'll be sure to tell dear Quasimoda of your failure. After all, it's not like a blind old bastard like you has much else to lose."
The sculptor took another step, now out of the darkness. "That's exactly why I have to do this."
Not wasting another second, he sprinted on the tile with a near feral snarl, and lept at the judge like a fox on the prowl. Frollo barely ducked out of range from his dagger, but not far enough to avoid being knocked to the side by his attack. She spun with her sword and expected it to slice into his back, however the blind gypsy managed to turn over and block it with his own blade. A look of utter shock surfaced on the judge's face. The sound she released made him laugh.
"What do you take me for?" He huffed. "I might be blind, but I know how to fight."
With a grunt he elbowed her sword wielding arm, throwing her off of him and allowing himself to recover. Overcome with anger at the knowledge that Leon could fight, she allowed a moment of pause to pass over her. An idea floated into her head. In a quick move the elderly judge dropped the sword, and the gypsy flinched at the sound. A devious smirk overcame her as she rounded into the darkness. Leon began to charge at the weapon, assuming the judge was down and unarmed. His dagger only stabbed into air, the pointed end scraping the tile.
He realized his mistake only a second too late, and the sculptor only managed to throw up his elbow in defense before the cold sting of metal mingled with the warm flesh of his right arm. Leon fell back, and the iron blade slashed across his stomach. He could see the hazy shadow of the judge and heard the wet splatter of blood. He dropped the dagger and cringed, curling up as tight as he could to avoid the Judge Frollo's baselard again. Failure instantly worked through his veins as he struggled to move from the pain.
The judge refrained from giving him any words of arrogance, unwilling to not only give him any final thought, but also because she had business to attend to, business that no one would keep her from anymore. That was, until, she heard a gasp from behind her.
"Leon!" The elderly archdeacon recognized the bleeding figure. "What in the name-" His eyes drifted to the spiral stairs that Frollo climbed. His gaze hardened with scrutiny and for a moment it seemed he debated whether or not to leave the gypsy or to stop Frollo.
He stood and walked around the injured sculptor as the judge remained still for the moment, her patience running dry with her victory still savoured and fresh. Her baselard was tucked in a pocket, still bloody, and her cold, puckered gaze fixated on the holy man who'd witnessed her second heinous crime against a member of the same family.
"Frollo," He began, anger slowly rising in his voice. "Have you gone absolutely mad?" Silence greeted his question and the man seemed to grow more infuriated at her lack of response or seemingly her lack of regret.
"You burn the city to the ground, assault the House of God, and run an innocent through within these walls a second time," He paused as Leon released a moan of pain. "I will not tolerate this any longer! You will leave this cathedral, so help me," He stormed towards the silent woman. "You will not harm anyone else in your pursuit for justice!"
Frollo quickly flared to life as a raging flame. Her hand extended and wrapped around the collar of his shirt, her patience for the archdeacon completely gone.
"Silence, you old fool." She hissed and gave him a push down the first step, the larger, elderly man toppling back, subdued, yet uninjured. He could only watch as he further ascended the stairs towards the tower and towards her own madness. "The hunchback and I have unfinished business to attend to. And this time, you will not interfere any longer. See to it you bury that thing with his mother!" She snarled and indicated the sculptors shrunken form.
The archdeacon flinched as the door to the tower was slammed shut. Immediately he turned back to the fallen gypsy, and ran to his quarters, determined to save Leon by any means he could. Frollo may have sunken into madness, but there was nothing he could do to prevent fate from taking its ultimate course. All he could pray in his hurried steps was that Quasimoda knew what would be coming.
A/N God this part had me on the fence for the longest time. I hope you all will still be back for the next chapter... we're winding down here and I still don't know if updates will be as consistent or what genderbent Disney story to write next! As always, suggestions and constructive criticism are taken.