A/N: The chapter before the final! The next one will be the last chapter :) I just wanted to thank you all for the magnificent reviews (it is nice to know that my story is not forgotten after a year :)

I also want to specially thank MusicalGenius13 for Beta reading and helping me improve the chapter :)

I hope you like it and keep the lovely reviews!

Witchery

The Last Vice

FROLLO stopped before the doorsteps of his hunting house in the woods. It was almost dusk. He wanted, more than anything, to open the door and find his wretchedly beloved inside, but he hesitated. The last time she met him was not even a day ago, somewhere between midnight and dawn. Yet the minister doubted that she would have a different reaction now than that of the night before.

Esmeralda had frantically run into the woods trying to escape the minister the moment she saw him. He had wished to confess to her, right then and there, all he had done for her, all the bleakness of his dark soul; he wished to throw himself at her feet and beg for her forgiveness, but none of it had been allowed to him. No, instead the girl had collapsed a few feet away from him in hysterical sobs and tears. She had not wanted him anywhere near her, and Frollo doubted that the new day would bring a different reaction.

There in the woods, beneath the black skies and the icy wind the gypsy's body had run out of cries and strength and had eventually given into a sleep. Only then had Frollo dared to approach her and take her in his arms. He remembered how fragile and light she seemed as he had lifted her and brought her back to the house. The minister had not wanted to leave her in the care of the former soldier at all, but he had little choice. Frollo needed to return back to the city, he had extended his stay in the woods more than planned. It was close to dawn when he left the house. He warned the ex- captain that he would come by the following day as soon as he finished his work in the city and it would be in the soldier's best interest not to say anything against the minister to the girl in Frollo's absence.

Frollo snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the door in front of him one more time. The need to see her was much stronger than any of his considerations or fears. He took the key from his pocket, stepped forward, and unlocked the door.

Phoebus, still in his prison clothes, looked guardedly as the front door opened. The minister scanned the room quickly and, seeing only the captain inside, entered confidently.

"Where is she?" the judge drawled, barely noting the ex- soldier's presence.

The captain hesitated for a moment. He looked at the cold assertive eyes of the other man as he clenched his fist but turned his stare submissively towards the bedroom, revealing the gypsy's location. Frollo stared bleakly at the door of the bedroom.

"What did you tell her?"

Before the soldier had any time to answer the minister's question the door of the bedroom opened.

"Everything," Esmeralda said faintly as she emerged from the other room. "He told me everything."

The gypsy girl was barefoot as she made one more step into the living room. She was holding a blanket around her which was covering her shoulders and chest. Her white prison robe was down to her feet; however, it was doing a poor job in keeping the trembling girl warm. Her hair fell heavy down her face, her eyes staring at the floor. As far as the minister could tell, her expression was numb. She was not crying, but there were still signs of the yesterday distress. Her eyes were red and swollen, as the gypsy lifted them only up to the minister's black robes, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Esmeralda, you didn't have to get up. You are too weak," Phoebus hurried to the gypsy before any of the other two had the chance to react. He took hold of her shoulders, gently supporting her fragile figure.

"I am alright," the girl mumbled as she awkwardly avoided the captain's help.

Esmeralda still hadn't gathered enough strength to look at the minister, but even then she could sense his heavy stare upon her. Now, with the eyes of both men were set straight on her she wondered whether it was indeed better for her to stay in bed.

"And what is "everything"?" the deep voice of the minister crawled in her ears as he made a few slow steps towards her. He was just a few feet away, and she felt as if she was cornered by the two men. She lifted her blurry green eyes towards Frollo's face.

"Everything that you did to save me," she said softly. Her green eyes wandered towards the blond captain as she lowered her stare again, "Phoebus told me about the king's messenger and that you had no choice but to imprison us. But then you gave Phoebus a chance to free himself knowing that he would help me too. After that, you sent a soldier to lead us to this house where nobody would look for me."

Frollo consumed every word intently. The captain had skipped the entire massacre, just as he was ordered by the minister.

"Thank you," Esmeralda murmured after a moment, her eyes wandering across the floor, "… and I am so…"

"You don't have to apologize to him, Esmeralda," the captain interrupted, as he gently placed his hand over her shoulder again.

She grabbed his hand, and nervously took it off of her.

"He is right," the minister drawled coldly, adding with a grave tone: "You don't owe me anything."

An awkward silence followed, in which the girl blushed under the intense looks of the two men.

Frollo used the moment to study the gypsy's state closely as he looked her over one more time. Her huddled body under the blanket, which she kept close to her chest reminded him of the bag he was holding.

"I have something for you," he said to the gypsy as he handed her a small bag. "I have brought you some of your clothes so you need not to wear this anymore," he drawled, unable to articulate the poor prison robe she had been dressed into.

The gypsy's eyes barely looked at his hand as she took the bag uncertainly. She hesitated for a moment, then made a step backwards and with another quick glance at the two men she entered back into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.

The minister stared at the door in a somber trance.

"You cannot force her to be yours again."

The spitefully whispered words from the ex- captain made him snap out of his state. Frollo looked at the other man with indifference as he drawled after a pause:

"I have something for you, too, captain. A word from your wife. She wishes to see you tonight before your departure tomorrow. I told her that you will be at the end of the woods an hour after the sun falls. If you desire to honor the meeting with the woman who bares your child I advise you to leave for it now."

Phoebus snorted:

"And to leave her alone with you? No way am I doing that!"

"I believe you have no choice, captain," the minister said menacingly.

The ex- soldier clenched his fist, but he knew that the other man was right. Up until now Phoebus had successfully ignored what the judge had told him the previous night. He was sure that the gypsy had overheard their conversation, but even though she had insisted that Phoebus tell her the truth about her rescue, she had said nothing about him fathering another woman's child. However, the ex- soldier knew that that was something he couldn't neglect for long. He had to know for sure and, therefore, meet his wife. Still his heart felt sick at the thought of leaving the minister with the gypsy.

"I won't be gone for long," the ex- soldier finally said.

"I have no doubt of this," Frollo smirked as he drawled indifferently. "The sun has been down for more than half an hour, you can take the horse that I came with and meet your wife in time."

Phoebus hesitantly looked at the closed bedroom door. He wished he could do more to secure the well being of the gypsy, but he could not. After all, if what the minister was saying was true and the soldier's wife was pregnant, the ex- captain had to leave Esmeralda and Paris for good. The blond man sighed heavily, looked at the minister untrustingly one more time and left the house.

FROLLO approached the bedroom door, staring at it intently and yet unable to move a step further. He was alone with her at last, only a wooden door was separating him from his dream, but why did it seem more unreachable than ever? No, he couldn't afford to make more mistakes with her, he had to be patient, let her see that he would not harm her again…

"Esmeralda…" the minister heard his own voice pronouncing her name as he knocked on her door.

He did not know what to say from there on; he did not even intend that much. But it was as if a force more powerful than him was pulling him towards the door, towards her. Everything was silent; he couldn't make another sound… It was as if he was alone surrounded by nothing; nothing which filled his entire essence with overwhelming pain. His lungs filled with cold air as his breath stopped- the door slightly opened.

The gypsy barely looked at his feet as she stepped back in the room, inviting him to follow. The minister fully opened the door as he stood, numb, at the doorsteps. Her appearance, her clothes- she looked exactly as the first day he had laid eyes upon her.

Esmeralda walked up slowly to a big mirror in the room and stared at her image. She ran the tip of her fingers across the white shirt of her dress: it had never been so clean, so purely white…

"You said that the clothes of the convicted to death are thrown away."

"…What do you mean?" Frollo asked, as he seemed completely vacant to her words.

The gypsy turned and looked straight at his eyes for the first time that night:

"We were at your house, sitting at the table for breakfast… I was wearing a prison robe and asked to have my clothes back. You said you couldn't do anything about it because they were long gone and that I had done nothing to deserve your generosity."

Frollo broke the eye contact between them as he looked aside. Esmeralda paused for a second, but then repeated again:

"You said that the clothes of the convicted to death are thrown away, why then do I have mine back?"

Silence was reverberating numbly in their ears, the gypsy did not lower her eyes from him.

"I lied," the minister said gravely, breaking the death noise.

Esmeralda smirked miserably:

"All this time you had them with you, and you never said anything. I guess I really didn't deserve your generosity… I came to your house as a defeated prisoner and prison clothes were given to me."

"I am sorry," Frollo murmured unfortunately after another long pause.

"Do you remember the first time?" the girl asked, looking back at the mirror. "You tore apart… the prison robe I was wearing. You tore it and then you gave me an expensive dress, as if I was a noblewoman, just to tear it off me that very night…"

"Esmeralda… I am truly…"

"Sorry? For what? You enjoyed it, didn't you?" the gypsy said in spiteful misfortune as she turned and approached the minister who was still frozen at the door. She looked down at her dress again. "What has changed now? You have been bringing me all those high class garments… as if trying to forget that underneath them was just a common gypsy with whom you were sinning in the dark… What is different now; why are you giving me back my gypsy clothes?"

Frollo looked at her eyes and, for the first time, he could not make anything out of her expression. Her stare was determined and yet her face seemed wretched and tortured. He inhaled heavily as he drawled with a defeated graveness:

"I suppose I am not fighting it anymore… I have accepted who you are."

The gypsy's lips curled in a grave smirk as she stepped uncomfortably close to him.

"And who am I? A gypsy? A criminal, an enchantress, a temptress, a demon…" she stood just before him, he could almost sense her with his whole body. She looked up at him, deep in his grey eyes, "or your favorite- a witch?"

He could not hold himself anymore, his stiff fingers rushed and tangled in her hair as he pulled her head to his and plunged his tongue deep between her lips. He had barely savored her inside when she abruptly pulled herself off him. The girl backed up and again turned to the mirror at the other end of the room. She scarcely touched her lips.

"Esmeralda," he started out with regretful tone as he moved from the doorstep of the bedroom and followed her inside. He stopped just before her as she turned and looked at his eyes. He did not dare to touch her again. "I am so…"

"No," she said abruptly as the tips of her fingers stopped at his mouth. "Don't say you are sorry," she commanded weakly, yet determined. "It isn't your fault, is it?" she asked ironically as her emerald eyes narrowed. "It is the witch's fault… it is I to blame, isn't that right?"

Frollo did not answer; his heart burning in frozen ice. He wanted to tell her everything that was tormenting him; he wanted her to forgive him; he wanted her to understand… However, her words made it clear to him that everything he did to her was unforgivable and had no better explanation than pure evil.

For a moment her words were numbly reverberating into the silence. At some point the minister realized that it was completely dark and pouring rain outside. The rain splashed heavily onto the roof of the house. Several candles were burning in the room, creating black shadows to fall all over the gypsy's perfect features. She took her hand off his face as she turned away from him.

"My lips made you kiss me," she mumbled as her hand ran over her own mouth. "My body made you take me," her eyes stopped at one of the scarves that were left in the bag with her gypsy dress. She took it and faced him again. "But you can't touch evil if your hands are tied," she whispered in his ear as she took one of his wrists in her soft hand. She moved behind him taking his other hand and tied his wrists together with her scarf. "There," she said in a soft miserable voice, "you are guiltless, because you are just a victim in a witch's trap."

Esmeralda walked to his face again. She looked into his grave, dark eyes. The minister's entire body was burning in a throbbing pleasure since the moment she had touched his wrist, but his frozen expression did not change. Even with his hands tied behind she felt scared in his presence. That's how he had always made her feel- he could make her feel cold and frozen, but, at the same time, he could arouse hot waves of shame in her that burned her skin. But she needed that, whatever that was, she needed to overcome him, to break his intimidating posture, and to make him feel as vulnerable and weak as she did with him. His silence meant that he was allowing her play so far, but she had not reached an end yet.

Her hands cupped his face as she ran them down his neck and his broad chest. She pushed him forcing him to step backwards and to stumble over the bed, sitting on it. The gypsy cornered him at the end of the bed, pushing his back to the bed frame above the pillows. Their eyes were locked in a burning stare, as she climbed on him. She looked down his chest as her hands started unbuttoning his black robe. She opened it entirely and let her eyes slide over his white skin and grey chest hair before meeting his stare again. His look was burning with longing as she slowly took the locks of her hair and tossed them behind her shoulders, clearing out her face and revealing her generous cleavage. Frollo's eyes could do nothing but break from her face and enjoy the view of splendor dark skin that was offered to him.

"The first time you saw me you wished to reject your beliefs for one night with me. Is that not what you told me once?" she said in a soft and somewhat naïve voice as one of her hands caressed his cheek and lifted his chin, making him stare back into her eyes. A flash struck from the window, as heavy thunder reverberated all over the empty house. She bent her head as she whispered in his ear: "Your eyes have corrupted your soul; if you had never seen the witch you would have never fallen victim to her spell."

Without realizing where she had pulled another scarf from, the minister breathlessly watched as she put the blindfold around his head, forbidding him the view that he so hungrily craved for. In complete darkness, he could still feel her delicious form above him. Frollo sensed the girl's movements as she pulled her arms out of the sleeves of her dress and stripped herself naked to the waist. He could not see, but the warmth radiating from her skin felt as if it was burning and drawing him closer to her at the same time. His body was craving for hers, as he pushed his back off the bed frame searching for her form.

Two light hands wrapped around his head as Esmeralda pulled his face towards her chest, allowing him to savor the sweetness of her skin. Her lungs filled with air as she moaned without a sound. After another breath she pulled his head off her as she gasped in his ear:

"You are not able to touch or see me… Why would you still want me?"

He did not reply. Her lips softly kissed his cheek as she pulled her face from his. Her hands and eyes slid down his shoulders, chest, and stomach, pausing at the beginning of his pants. A second later, her palms continued down his inner thighs, circling around the bulge underneath his cloth.

"Do you remember our first time?" He did not answer. Esmeralda bent to his ear again, as one of her hands remained teasing around his desire. "You have to confess in order to be forgiven, isn't that what your religion preaches?"

Her circling motions stopped, leaving the minister burning for more. He swallowed heavily as he said with a breathless voice:

"Yes."

His answer was rewarded as the gypsy placed her hand on the throbbing bulge in his pants, making him puff heavily in bliss. She caressed him with the tip of her fingers.

"I wanted you to stop, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," he agreed in a defeated tone.

"Do you want me to stop now?"

"Please don't…" he gasped as she firmly pressed her palm on his crotch.

"That night," she started in a trembling voice, making long pauses after each word, "do you remember how you threw me on your bed, stripped me bare, and ravished me like an animal? Do you remember what you said after you saw the blood between my legs?"

"I…" he could not continue. She stopped moving her hand, urging him to continue. "I said that the witch was virtuous," he breathed out in defeat.

"But witchery is a vice, not a virtue, isn't it?" she whispered as her hand touched his bare skin at the beginning of his pants.

"I am sorry for hurting you…" he mumbled indecisively.

"It wasn't your fault. After all the witch cursed you to sin. But… you liked it, didn't you? You liked hurting me… making me struggle and cry… You enjoyed knowing that you were the first man, the one who made me bleed… Didn't you?"

He did not answer. She slid her hand beneath his pants, but paused before taking hold of his desire.

"You have to confess, and you have to be honest. Only then you will have forgiveness."

"Yes, I did" he gasped breathless. "I burned in a hell of bliss every time… every moment I felt your body fighting mine…"

"You were weak; the witch forced you to sin, but it was your own wickedness that made you enjoy my pain," She paused as her hand slid underneath his bare thigh, purposefully ignoring his throbbing length. She came very close to him as his chest could almost sense her bare breasts above him. Locks of her hair tickled his cheek, as she hissed in his ear: "Beg for forgiveness."

"Esmeralda… please forgive me…" he started out, gasping heavily as the gypsy's hand grabbed his manhood.

In an instant her other hand pulled his pants down just enough to release his entire length, as she stroked it gently.

"I didn't mean for you to beg me, a witch's forgiveness is worth nothing in your heaven, isn't that right?"

He made an attempt to say something between his gasps of pleasure but she put a finger on his mouth.

"It's alright… Your hands are tied and your eyes are shut, this night there is nothing to be guilty for. Tonight it is entirely my fault…"

The gypsy came closer to his crotch, her legs surrounding his. She lifted her skirt and her hands rested on his shoulders as she stood above him. Her head bent down to softly kiss his lips. She gently rubbed her cheek on his. Her voice had not showed it, but her wet and salty skin suggested that tears had been running down her face for some time now.

"Esmeralda, I am so sorry…" he murmured in a trembling voice.

She slightly kissed his cheek and ear:

"Are you really sorry," she asked misfortunately still keeping her cheek onto his.

Her lungs filled with air, as her hands ran over his chest, embracing him closely and with a soundless whimper she lowered herself onto him. Both of them gasped heavily, as the gypsy relaxed her muscles over his body. She pushed harder at him. This time the cornered minister lifted himself up to meet her moves. She moaned silently in pleasure.

Again and again… She had a full control over him. Her hands climbed back up his body. Her elbows collapsed on his shoulders and embraced his head, spreading her fingers in his grey hair. With every thrust the gypsy was pulling herself closer and closer to him. Her breasts were colliding into his chest; her heartbeat as if fighting with his; her stomach was rubbing against his skin; and her body was shaking from the throbbing pleasure coming from her most tender parts. Her legs had totally melted aside her and her whole structure was now supported by her elbows which were pierced on the minister's broad, yet bony shoulders.

She lifted herself to the level of his blindfolded eyes. Her lips bumped into his as her tongue searched for his. He kissed her back hungrily and roughly, enjoying every part of her that he could manipulate. His hips pushed in her harder and harder, making her shiver and moan above him. The girl's control and advantage felt weak, as if she was trying to ride a wild beast for the first time. His strong thrusts lifted her above him and her breasts pushed into his face. She cried out in complete ecstasy as his kisses and tongue abused her tender skin.

"Untie me," he breathlessly commanded .

"No," she gasped between her moans, "… your hands will make you sin."

"I don't care," he grunted huskily, "I want you. I need you…"

She pushed harder hitting a new spot of pleasure, making her jump in delight. Her hands traveled down to his.

"Beg your witch to give you sin," she whispered heavily in his ear.

"Release me at once," he commanded impatiently in a low tone, "… I beg you…"

Her hands skillfully untied the knot of the scarf, freeing his wrists. His hands instantly grabbed her naked waste, fiercely pulling her body down to his. The gypsy jerked in pleasure, hitting another throbbing spot of heat. His hands found their way to her ample breasts, pressing, rubbing and squeezing them ardently. She couldn't help but moan in pleading delight, twitching and anchoring her back.

The minister abruptly turned her over, making her heart skip a beat from the swift change. Pushing her to lie on her back, he rolled over on top of her in the middle of the bed. Her legs automatically tangled around him, as his own legs collapsed on the floor. Half-way on the bed, he rammed in her hard and relentlessly. She arched in pleasure. Clumsily and frantically, he reached the blindfold on his head and removed it hastily from his eyes. Dark and hollow eyes pierced at her twitching body. His bony fingers tangled in her thick hair, pulling it so that her head had no choice but to face him. Their looks interlocked, similar to those of a predator and a prey before the attack. He fervently pulled her closer to him, clashing his teeth in her mouth and passionately devouring her tender kisses.

She pulled away staring at him intently. His eyes were determined and set, yet they seemed grave and sorrowful. The gypsy ran her fingers through his messy and sweat hair as he thrust deep in her. She moaned, as her walls tightened around his length.

"The first time…," she panted between her moans, "do you remember what I told you when you were stripping me naked?"

"You said," the minister puffed out after another hard penetration, "…that I will burn in hell for... this"

"And you told me," she whispered breathless with intense pauses between her words, "that you were already there," She grabbed his head, making him face her eyes. "Are we burning in hell for what we are doing now?"

His eyes tried to avoid hers. He pulled his head away from her hands as he tenderly kissed her bare shoulder. His teeth and tongue made their way to her neck, as every kiss became deeper and rougher. His lips reached her ear.

"We are burning," he whispered in a husky voice, as he shoved himself hard in her, releasing another moan from her lungs. "… burning in the brightest and hottest hellfire."

He kissed her cheek, lips, neck, and collar bone: traveling lower and growing more fervent. Frollo rammed again and again in her warm, moist, and constricting insides. His legs stretched from the floor, pushing away from it and compressing the gypsy harder and harder to the bed. She gasped and groaned, as her eyes closed in pleasure and her head jerked back. Her back arched as her ribcage pushed up front, offering the minister's hands and lips all the sweetness of her beauty. Her legs, no longer functioning, were spread apart submissively craving for more and more of the passionate abuse. She moaned louder and louder, as Frollo panted roughly against her warm and reddened skin. Esmeralda's upper body twitched, quivered, and arched as the peak waves of bliss began bathing her body. Her contracting insides and pleasurable cries were driving the minister to his own edge, as he rubbed harder onto her most tender spot. The gypsy finally groaned heavily in release, curving her back and throwing her head back. Inadvertently, her eyes were set on the open door of the room, which none of them had bothered to close.

In the same second, Frollo panted deep and heavy as the thick warm liquid spurted out of him, giving his body the blissful release. His low voice uttered delightfully:

"Esmeralda…"

"Phoebus..." was chanted back in the empty room.

Frollo's exhausted muscles twitched instantaneously, as his eyes traveled from the naked girl beneath him, who was covering her chest with her hands, to the blond man standing at the doorsteps of the doorway.

"Idiot," the minister hissed as he quickly jumped off the girl and turned to the windows to close his robe.

The gypsy, too, swiftly got off the bed. She slid down on the floor, hiding from the intruder behind the bed as she clumsily attempted to pull her blouse back on her bare shoulders.

It indeed took only a few seconds for Frollo to put himself in order before his vicious eyes were directed back to the door. The ex- captain did not even bother to look at the minister as he turned and left the room, leaving the door open as it was. The judge clenched his fist as he furiously hit the night stand, crashing and breaking the lit candle stand. The gypsy jumped, startled by the sight of the unpredictable judge.

Frollo's attention was drawn to her for the first time since he'd gotten off of her. He observed her blurrily. Still crouched on the floor she put her arm in the second sleeve, fully covering her upper body. She barely looked up at the minister. Frollo turned away, avoiding her eyes.

"I have to return back to the city. I will come again at dusk," he informed coldly as he fixed his garments. He looked at her. "Take care of that mess, I don't want to see it still here tomorrow," he said in a menacing voice, suggesting that there was a wrath in him about to burst.

She attempted to speak, but the words seemed to have stuck in her throat. The gypsy nodded in submission as she got off the floor. He looked at her one more time, his expression unreadable and yet his posture on the other end of the room suggested how much he did not want to approach or touch her. He turned and left the girl behind, as he walked through and out the living room in complete ignorance of everything and everyone around him.

ESMERALDA took her time before she came out of the room. The ex- captain was standing still with his back against one of the walls in the living room. She looked at him, just now realizing that he was wearing civilian clothes. The thought automatically lead to the memory of him leaving earlier to see his wife that night. Esmeralda did not say anything; she stood numbly in the middle of the room, staring at the soldier.

"I don't understand you," Phoebus started out with a disgusted voice.

"You don't have to," the gypsy talked back in spite.

Another pause followed as the ex- captain pushed himself off the wall and walked to her. He stopped just a few feet away, as his warm eyes narrowed and stared at her intently. He shook his head as he looked at her bold stare.

"You will never be happy with him; with all the evil he has done."

"I don't care, I forgive everything," the gypsy said instantly, even though she knew that was not the truth.

The ex- captain snorted out as he shortened the distance between them.

"Are you speaking on behalf of all the families he has destroyed? Of all the lives he has taken?"

"That was in the past, he is different now."

Phoebus laughed mockingly.

"You are wrong, Esmeralda. He is the same animal who has raped you over and over again," the soldier was just above her face, making her incredibly uncomfortable. She backed a step off, and he followed. "You are the one who has changed. You are the one who likes being treated as a whore."

The gypsy slapped the soldier, as she tried to leave his presence, but she could not. He clutched her wrist, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"And I am not even talking about the perversities he has done to you. He is evil, Esmeralda! Why can't you see it?"

"Let go of me!" she yelled as the soldier released her arm.

He backed off a few steps as he wandered around the room to collect his thoughts.

"I am sorry…"he said as he stopped and looked at her again. "I didn't mean to…"

"It is best for you to leave now," the gypsy said sternly as she massaged her abused wrist.

The soldier jerked his head in disbelief.

"Esmeralda, please…" he stopped as he exhaled heavily and started walking again. "Just hear me out… You know that I'd never hurt you… I love you…"

He walked up to her again and tenderly caressed her cheek. If only she could understand him…

"And what about the woman who bares you child?"

Phoebus sighed heavily as he dropped his hand and looked aside.

"I never meant for this to happen. For any of this… If only I could turn back time I would have done things differently. I would have been with you, I wouldn't have allowed any of… of this to happen. This child…"

"This child is your responsibility," the gypsy interrupted him. She looked down for a second, but then placed her palms on his cheeks and golden hair as she made his eyes meet hers. "You have a chance for a change and you shouldn't miss it because of the past. I am not the same defenseless girl anymore… You are right- I have changed. You were my first love, you have saved me countless times and I will always be grateful for that. But… but you have to move on…"

Her hands felt so soft and good on him. Her words were paling compared to the intimate way she was holding and speaking to him. He sighed as he removed her hair with his hands, placing it behind her ears. He cupped her face tenderly.

"It has always been you and only you. You are saying that you have loved me once; why should this be left in the past? Why can't we love each other again? I can make you happy, I know it… I love you…"

He looked into her emerald eyes and then down to her lips. Slowly he closed the distance between them and kissed her softly. She did not respond back, but she did not struggle either. The soldier looked at her again, but this time she avoided his eyes as she shook her head.

"No, we cannot be together again. Phoebus, you saved my life, but I don't love you…"

The ex- captain dropped his hands and walked again away from her. He made a small circle before looking back into her eyes.

"And you love him?"

"That's not the point."

"And what is it, Esmeralda, because I'm not fucking getting it!"

"You are married and with a child on the way. You are good man Phoebus and I know you will do the right thing."

"The right thing?" he echoed in a mock. "The right thing, Esmeralda, was to have told you what really happened the day you were saved," He paused, and then continued, "You see, your guiltless beloved threatened me. If I didn't keep my mouth shut my head would've departed my body," He laughed and then continued, "The truth is that Quasimodo's death was not an accident. He didn't just come to your rescue out of good will; he was just another puppet in the minister's plan for your rescue."

The gypsy's eyes filled with tears as she murmured the hunchback's name.

"And it wasn't only his death. Do you at all remember all the people- your people, who came to protest against your execution. They were not just by chance there either. Frollo made sure all of Paris knew so that your people came to your rescue. After the hunchback played his part to inspire a riot, all the gypsies followed him. How many of the people there you have known? More than half of them are washing the streets of Paris with their blood!"

"All of this because of me," the gypsy whispered miserably.

"No, not because of you! Because of him! It is not your fault that he is a genocidal maniac!"

Esmeralda was wordless. The soldier sighed one more time as he approached and hugged her tenderly. She did not respond in any way.

"I am sorry, Esmeralda. I didn't want to burden you, but it really isn't your fault, please understand this." He stepped back and looked at her miserable face. He kissed her on the lips one more time. "We can escape, the two of us, and forget this wretched city. I will protect you"

"No," she said it, snapping out of her trance. She pulled away from him and looked at his eyes from a distance. "I think it's time for you to leave. Whatever I decide to do is none of your concern. You did more than enough for me and now it is time for you to take care of your family. Thank you and… goodbye Phoebus."

"Esmeralda," he took a few steps towards her but she stopped him.

"No. I have decided and there is nothing you can say or do to change my mind. You, too, participated in Frollo's plan. You killed to save me. I don't want this… I don't want you."

Phoebus numbly stared at her for a few seconds.

"And where I am supposed to go now?"

"Until you are ready to leave the city, as it was planned, you will go to your wife. Go away with your family; there is nothing left for you here."

"And for you there is?"

The gypsy looked aside as she closed her eyes and sighed.

"Goodbye, Sun God. I hope you find happiness."

"I hope that you do, too," the soldier said in defeat as he left, leaving the gypsy alone in the empty house. She realized that it had stopped raining outside and the forest was in a surprising silence before the new day.