A/N: Hi all, and welcome back! As usual, I don't own the characters. I really loved Felix Martin's portrayal of Claude Frollo in the German musical, so he's who I envision now for Frollo in all my future ND stories.

Sorry, not sorry! I thought he provided a sense of humanity to the role as well as had this kind of refined older gentleman look to him. Handsome, of course, and someone you could pity and sort of relating to (minus the whole him losing his mind and going nuts over Esmeralda bit lol). But my version of him I try to give him a bit more humanity at least up to the point where his obsession grows, and after that, who knows what will happen to Claude lol.

Anyway, been a while since I did a Claude Frollo/Esmeralda chapter, so here you go!

Chapter Sixteen: Enter the Sun God

THE Judge could not begin to fathom how it had ever come to this. He was supposed to love the accursed wretch. His brother's misshapen demonic child.

He was supposed to love the boy. God had commanded it of him, made this boy his cross, his burden bear as atonement for failing to save his brother's soul.

Even when, for years following Jehan and Florika's deaths, the bastard whelp's mother, and Jehan's wife, his hatred had been spontaneous and cruel, and yet he found within his heart a need for this creature that the Archdeacon had forced him to care for, following his brother's words to him on his death bed.

Take him. He has nobody else. Take him. If you can find it in your heart.

His brother's words, even now after all this time, still caused a vibration to plaster underneath his skin and make it crawl, and the Judge felt a muscle in his jaw twitch as he looked at the most unusual scene before him of his hearth keep and the gypsy witch clinging to one another in fear, and the boy quaking.

Good. Claude felt the edges of his lips twist upwards in a sneer as he closed off the gap of space between himself and his young ward. He ought to be afraid of what was coming to him.

Any semblance of compassion and care towards the creature now practically groveling in front of him as the boy bent his right knee and knelt in front of the Judge vanished like burst suds when his brother had passed.

He had lost Jehan, and his world crashed and burned, leaving Claude unsure who to blame. Claude had thought the demonic spawn an ill omen in this House of God growing up. Quiet, scrawny like death. Utterly weak, and oft held a saddened stare full of despair and hurt.

And now, as he looked upon the boy, he was becoming even more confused whether he had ever once cared for Quasimodo or not.

He needed the young man, yes, of this he was sure, but Claude detested the wretch as much as he needed him.

All he had ever wanted was repentance for his sin, and by happenstance, he was now burdened with caring for the man and this little blonde girl as well, who was blinking owlishly up at him and regarding her master with wide, almond-shaped, fearful blue eyes, the pale blue trapped with shimmering tears.

The twist of his sour mood was only aggravated further as the pair of women's terrified gazes held him captive there a moment.

It was clear by the horrified expressions on both their faces the girls thought him to be a merciless brute, a monster.

If they think that of me, then so be it. A lesson needs to be taught here. Claude silently seethed and felt the heat burn behind his eyelids as he jolted out his left knee, the heel of his black leather boot connecting against the accursed whelp's stomach where he knelt on the floor, and the sound of crushed ribs rent the air, followed by the boy's agonized roar, and a low, choking cough as the bell ringer staggered backward and fell.

"STOP!"

A pair of footsteps from behind him interrupted the Judge, whose curled fist was raised in midair, prepared to deliver another blow to the boy who had publicly humiliated him.

The Judge sanguinely lifted his head and was able to ascertain and recognize that the angry cut came from her. The gypsy witch who had dared to defy him by talking back to him downstairs in the main level of the sanctuary. He stifled his urge to roar like an enraged dragon and sneer at the witch.

The witch, Esmeralda, had managed to get one over on him.

Well. Not a second time.

The heathen gypsy witch and his little blonde hearth keep walked with a speed that could summon a violent hurricane towards the boy, who knelt on the floor cowering, arms raised above his misshapen face in cowardice, a pitiful attempt at protecting himself from the worst of the Judge's wrath, indeed.

Even angered in rage like this, the witch was still beautiful, the Judge was loathed to admit this, and it pulled him off his own fury.

Madellaine followed close behind her and knelt into a crouch at Quasimodo's side, a gentle hand on his shoulder as she helped him to his feet, shooting a venomous look of daggers at her master's way, unafraid to look the Judge in his cold eyes.

He was met with a look of obvious fretting, her eyes never once leaving his, though Claude could tell the blonde lass was feeling ashamed to have conspired such annoyance from him.

Esmeralda firmly planted herself between Quasimodo and Madellaine, who was shakily helping the boy to his feet as best as she was able, draping one of his strong arms around her shoulder and walking off towards the ladder that led to the lower level of the mezzanine away from the bells.

He watched as the witch, wretched little succubus, turned towards his hearth keep.

"I can see that my charge has distracted you," the Judge growled, his first words towards the witch since earlier. "Quasimodo, you shouldn't have!" he scolded, narrowing his flashing gray eyes until they rivaled that of a snake's slit-like pupils. Cold, narrowed, hard, rigid, and unforgiving of him.

Esmeralda halted in front of the Judge and sighed. "Stop! This was my fault, Your Honor! Not the boy's! This has gone on far enough, Your Grace," she murmured in a dangerously quiet voice, leaving Claude's face drained of color. "It was I who suggested that he ring the bells for your hearth keep and I, not him. If you would punish me too, then let it be me and me alone, for you need not punish the boy, Your Honor."

Without leaving the Judge anytime to react, she turned towards Madellaine and signaled the girl to help him downstairs.

"Take him downstairs. Make sure he isn't injured, get him something to eat if you can find anything," she ordered, to which her command received a curt nod from Madellaine in silent agreement as she struggled to help the injured boy to his feet.

Quasimodo grunted as he was forced to stand from his kneeling position but welcome the help from the young blonde.

His left arm was draped over Madellaine's shoulder as his servant shot the Judge one final scathing look of displeasure before she stiffly turned her back on Claude and Esmeralda.

She quit the scene of the upper level of the mezzanine as quickly as she was able, speaking to the bell ringer in low murmurs, too low for Frollo to make out what was being said, though he knew he would be having words with her later in private, once Captain Phoebus had escorted the girl back to the Palace of Justice.

The gesture left Claude momentarily stunned, unsure of how he would have to delicately treat the situation with his new hearth keep.

If she was unafraid of Quasimodo as it certainly appeared that way to him, the way she did not hesitate to touch him, much less look the bastard son of his brother's in the eye, then he was going to have a bigger problem on his hands soon.

Perhaps the youngest daughter of Lucien de Barreau had gone mad and stupid after all, and Claude did not want to believe it. As he contemplated this, he called out to the girl.

"My dear girl, this is an insult," Claude seethed, hissing his words through clenched teeth and rooted jaw as his hands shook at his sides. "You can very well see I was disciplining the boy. He is my charge to be concerned with. Neither of yours."

The Judge watched, waiting with bated breath as Madellaine paused, pulling the heels of her brown leather boots on the wooden floor and the skirts of her dark blue velvet gown swished in a bounced twist as the young blonde reached up to her free hand not supporting the bell ringer's waist to tuck a wisp of her short blonde hair back behind her ear before looking at him.

She turned her head and met the Judge's gaze with hers, and Claude was able to absorb the strange lightning bolt that radiated between the two of them.

An intense feeling of dislike.

Her cobalt blue eyes were flashing dangerously, turning almost cerulean in color, and Claude could tell by the way the blonde lass was regarding him, her tense body posture, the stiff way she carried herself, that she did not particularly like him.

The girl's flickering azure orbs confirmed his suspicions when she spoke.

"No, Master Frollo," Madellaine murmured, speaking in such hushed volumes that almost sent a chill crawling underneath his skin despite the warmth of his billowing black robes. "You were humiliating your own ward, sir. There is a difference."

She spoke slowly and calmly as if she were addressing a child in the midst of a violent temper tantrum rather than a fully grown man of almost fifty and one years.

Whatever response he had been expecting his servant to spout at him, that had most certainly not been it at all.

Claude stiffened, pursing his lips into a thin line and bit down on his lip.

His ears had begun the familiar, aching, throbbing ringing whenever shame welled from deep within the pit of his stomach.

As his gaze flickered from that of his ward to the young blonde woman's, he froze, seeing that look of longing in the boy's glistening blue eyes.

He had underestimated the effect his ward had on people, particularly that of his newest servant.

They… They were… close. He furrowed his greying brows in contemplative thought. But how close? Surely, not…that. The two barely knew each other but a precious hour at best following the disastrous conclusion of this year's dreaded Festival of Fools.

But was it possible that in the precious hour or two at best of his newest servant knowing Quasimodo, the accursed wretch that he was, could she have, at the very least, managed to dig within herself to find a mere sprig of affection for the creature?

It was…impossible.

To hear such antagonized hurt laced throughout his servant's quiet and reserved tones in defense to a demonic bastard, the product of his brother's wickedness and lust.

Though Claude was pulled from his thoughts as she spoke.

"How could you, Master Frollo?" Madellaine asked, upset.

The Judge found himself swallowing hard down past a growing lump in his throat. He turned his head to the side so the young servant would only catch his side profile in the shadows.

He could not remember seeing the details of Madellaine de Barreau and how she turned to face him fully, pausing at the top rung of the ladder that would take her and Quasimodo down to the lower level of the boy's precious bell tower loft. His home.

The young blonde woman's face was tense, stiff, and rigid, almost unmoving and all traces of softness within now dried out.

"How could you do this to him? Beat him senseless and humiliate your ward?" Here, Madellaine narrowed her blue eyes in despair and incense towards Claude. "You blame him for his physical deformities as though it were his choice to be this way?"

Claude drew in a sharp breath of frigid cold air that wafted in through the drafty entrance that led out towards the balcony terrace as his lungs turned to stone within his chest, ashamed. He looked off to his left to see the witch's sudden evasion of eye contact. And for perhaps the first time in his life, shame rained down on him like arrows that shielded the sun from view. Which made sense to him now as he watched in silence as the young blonde steadily and slowly helped the boy down the ladder, speaking to him in too low a tone for him to make out what was exchanged between the two.

"My child," he called out.

Madellaine stiffened, not even halfway down the ladder yet, though her tone was guarded as she poked her head up back over the railing. "Master?" she asked in a tone that spewed hate.

Claude found this new development incredibly distracting, not to mention insulting.

Was he really that despicable to her?

He sneered, not even needing an answer to such a question. He could see it in her eyes.

"It was you who accompanied my ward to the front of the stage, was it not?"

"Yes, sir, but I—"

"Do not interrupt me, young mademoiselle," interjected the Judge, his voice calm, measured, but hard as a chunk of stone.

He did not need to shout, as other men did, to command respect.

The Judge, before he could fathom what was happening, felt himself close off the gap of space between himself and the young blonde, who had half risen from her spot on the ladder's rung in order to stand before her master and kneel in a curtsy.

It did not escape his attention that his hearth keep was blushing, while the boy had disappeared into the shadows, where he rightfully belonged, no doubt wishing to avoid further embarrassment.

Claude lifted his index finger and turned the girl's face gently upwards, eager to make Madellaine look at him.

"You will leave this bell tower at once," he commanded, the edges of his voice clipped and hard. "You will return with Captain Phoebus and Lieutenant de Marten to the Palace of Justice, where you will await further instructions until such a time when I decide to send for you, my child. Is that clear, dear?"

As he continued to keep his hand cupped underneath her chin, he felt the girl whose life he had saved from the gallows tremble beneath his touch, and as he stared into her warm, pleading eyes, Claude felt the worst of his anger dissipate and his grip relinquished on her chin as he took a step backward.

She stood there, staring at him, unbridled terror in those glistening pale blue orbs of hers, no doubt a myriad of emotions was flashing through her mind at a speed faster than she could keep up with.

He could only imagine what the girl was thinking.

Was he going to make good on his promise to hang her for her insolence? Would she be beaten? Whipped? Imprisoned?

It was clear, judging by the fear in his servant's eyes, she saw him as a monster.

And of course, the girl was bloody right.

"Get. Out," Claude whispered, feeling the beginnings of moisture in his eyes as he turned his back on the young blonde.

Madellaine did not need to be told a third time and she quickly slid down the rungs of the ladder and gathered the skirts of her dress, quitting the scene of the desolate north bell tower without so much as a goodbye to Quasimodo, wherever he had disappeared to.

She was unable to believe what just happened. As she paused, her hand on the doorknob that would take her back down to the main level of the sanctuary, she could not help but feel a sudden sense of discourse and unease at leaving Esmeralda alone with that man.

He was unpredictable, violent.

Madellaine especially did not like the idea of Quasimodo being left alone in that insufferable man's company.

As she gathered the skirts of her blue dress in her hands and made to descend the stairwell, she made a mental promise to herself that she would come to check up on Quasimodo as frequently as she could.

After suffering such a miserable day today, the last thing he needed was to spend all of his free time alone up in here.

"I promise to come back," she whispered solemnly, hoping wherever Quasi had disappeared to, he could hear her somehow.

Her last thought as she dared to glance over her shoulder one last time, her gaze settling and lingering on Esmeralda, who shot her a soft, reassuring smile that she would be all right, was a simple but a poignant one, one that stayed with her all night.

I hope this is not a mistake…

Esmeralda had not anticipated being left alone in the Judge's company at the topmost level of the bell tower's mezzanine, and she was not at all sure how to feel about it.

It seemed to take the Judge an eternity to find his voice again, and when he did manage to turn and face her, his knuckles practically bone-white with the effort to steady himself from shaking in rage as they clutched tightly onto the balcony's railing, his voice was taut and pulled tight, dripping with anger.

"Filling the boy's head with dreams?" he growled angrily, causing Esmeralda to exhale in annoyance and gave the Judge a pleading look, though she knew this was a fruitless effort.

Considering what she had almost just witnessed and were it not for herself and Madellaine intervening when they had, he surely would have killed the boy in his short-fused temper.

She exhaled another shaking breath through her flared nostrils and at last, by some miracle of God, found her voice.

"Just thoughts. Nothing wrong with thoughts, is there?" Esmeralda challenged, wanting nothing more than to put as prompt an end to this conversation and return home and fast.

"That depends. You see how impressionable he is, little more than a child, even at his age," the Judge barked hoarsely.

"Looking at him, Your Grace, I don't see a child. He is an adult, sir, and should he not be treated as such, Your Honor?" Esmeralda retorted, feeling the beginnings of her temper swell.

"But you are in a way," she heard Judge Frollo counter, causing Esmeralda to slowly swivel her head to look at the man.

He was staring at her, unblinking as if she had caught him in the middle of some deep, thought-provoking musing.

To say that she found it rather unnerving was an understatement.

"Milord, please excuse your ward, it is I who was at fault for what happened, please don't punish Quasimodo or your hearth keep either, it wasn't her idea, the blame lies solely with me, Your Honor," Esmeralda began rather hesitantly, gathering the skirts of her simple purple dress and prepared to sink into a low curtsy, wanting to put an end to their conversation, and the sooner the better.

A quick glance to her left confirmed it was now dark, the sun long set beyond the horizon, and if she couldn't make it back to the Court of Miracles at a decent hour, then she might as well not go at all.

Awful things happened to women out past curfew, things that made her skin crawl, things she'd rather not think of.

Claude Frollo, however, was not having any part of it. He motioned with a curt wave of his arm for him to follow her out onto the balcony, a suspicious notion which raised her hackles.

Though considering he held the upper hand here and held the power to ruin her life with just a snap of his fingers, Esmeralda saw no choice but to obey the command and follow.

"How do you find it?" he asked, not speaking to her again until she had followed him out onto the balcony, shivering from cold and waiting with gritted teeth to receive whatever slanderous slurs, vicious lies against her and her people that he wished for her to accept. When she didn't answer, he frowned.

"E—excuse me?" murmured Esmeralda sourly as she swiveled her head to the right to look at the Judge, unable to form a polite and proper response to the distinguished gentleman as the utter pretentiousness of his voice had gotten the better of her.

She wanted nothing more to do with the man.

Judge Frollo eyed her cautiously out of the corner of his peripherals as if trying to detect any hint of deceit from her.

He must have not been able to find a shred of it within Esmeralda's green eyes, for when he spoke, his voice was soft.

"The cathedral, child," he answered in a sardonic manner, his nails practically raking down the front of the balustrade.

"Beautiful," she answered, unfazed and unstirred from her spot next to the man as the pair stood watching the night sky.

"There is something angelic and joyous of our Lady of Peace, wouldn't you say?" the Judge asked after a moment's silence. He continued to eye her, somewhat skittishly, she noticed.

"I…yes," she answered, perhaps a little bit too quickly. Esmeralda blinked owlishly at the Judge in response as he turned to the side and registered the perplexed expression on her face, the edges of his thin lips turning upwards in a smirk.

He was…smiling, almost in an intimate manner, as if he were enjoying some private joke with himself. In truth, the fact that the Judge was smiling greatly unnerved Esmeralda, to the point where she did not know how to react at all.

"My dear, you seem to indicate a willingness to learn, wouldn't you agree? A soul who wishes to be saved, is already halfway there, yes?"

His lack of response as Esmeralda looked at the Judge with contempt and raised eyebrows in alarm irked her, and she began to feel more than a little nervous.

What did he want with her?

Clearly, it wasn't to, how did he put it? 'Save her soul.'

Was he just toying with her, to spite her for attempting to defy his order earlier when she had helped the boy down off the pillory?

He had spoken of punishment, how she would surely pay for her insolence, and she had assumed that to mean her arrest.

But now, Esmeralda could see that wasn't the case here. Letting out a concentrated breath, hoping her eyes did not betray her fear, she leveled her eyes as much as she could and did her best not to quirk her eyebrow at the Judge sarcastically.

Judge Frollo, however, seemed to enjoy this, for he smirked at her. Esmeralda stiffened, thinking she could have walked away had it not been for that insufferable smirk.

The left side of his faint pink lip tugged upwards creating a sinister smirk on his god-like face; casting a spell of lust to eyes that dare look his way.

"What you did earlier today, young mademoiselle, was inexcusable, and yet, here you are in God's House, with me…" Claude spoke sanguinely, in a soft tone, but his gray eyes flashed and darkened and filled with horrible, thick scorn for her.

It was a strange combination to behold, coming from a man so reviled and feared throughout the entire city of Paris, France. He succeeded in making Esmeralda feel uneasy, and she found herself swallowing and clutching at the skirts of her dress. If the Judge was made aware of the growing and obvious discomfort that he was causing her, he paid it no mind.

Instead, he merely turned towards her, glimmering moisture brimming in his eyes, along with a look of lust and intrigue she did not like.

"I could instruct you in the gospels; share with you our Lord's grace, my child. You could come here every day. Better yet, perhaps…you could stay here," Judge Frollo breathed.

Esmeralda smiled, albeit nervously and without showing her teeth, but then recoiled, taking a faltering step backward.

He followed, now eyeing her like a panther stalking its prey. "In the cathedral…with me." His arm shot out to latch onto her forearm as he attempted to grab her hand, though Esmeralda immediately backed away, scrunching her nose in revulsion, no longer caring if her fear of him was evident or not.

Now the Judge did seem as though he were irritated. His previous calm demeanor was immediately replaced by something much darker, something Esmeralda instantaneously recognized. "You feel as though you have been treated unfairly? You and your people," spat the Judge, looking down his slightly crooked nose at her, his gray eyes filled with immense scorn.

"Y—Your Grace, I don't think staying here in the church would be a good idea," Esmeralda stammered wildly, backing away until she felt her back press against the cold stone wall.

"No?" Claude challenged. Esmeralda would have replied, but the Judge sounded eerily hurt. As if she had found his weakness.

She winced at the implication of her own thoughts.

Esmeralda had no time to ponder it, however, for the moment she opened her mouth to speak, Judge Frollo seized the opportunity, taking advantage of the young Romani's hesitancy.

"Allow me to educate you on a useful truth, witch, so that you do not set yourself up for further disappointment," he snarled angrily. "You want more, I see that. But life isn't fair. Anyone who says differently is selling something. The people of our world are no better than him," he growled, raising his hand and pointing a shaking finger to the interior of the bell tower loft.

Esmeralda hesitated, knowing she would regret asking, yet the question tumbled unchecked from her lips before she could even think of stopping herself. She hesitated, blowing out a tense breath that formed as a puff of cold vapor in front of her.

"And…what are the people of this world, Your Grace?"

"Monsters, the lot of them." His voice was bitter as he turned sharply away, though his speech was cutting to her, like a dagger that had been sharpened and aimed straight for her heart. The Judge did not sound as if he enjoyed saying such stinting remarks to her, for when he turned back around, he had softened considerably, though Esmeralda remained guarded.

Esmeralda frowned as she noticed the Judge look away and effectively turn his back on her, his moment of lust vanished, for which she was immensely grateful. Or so she thought.

"Why would you not stay?" he challenged after a moment's hesitation, the edges of his voice hardened as he sanguinely lifted his head to regard her.

His gaze traveled downward and lingered upon her lips. Esmeralda licked them nervously to moisten them as she felt the panic rapidly swell within her chest as she looked to the floor.

Esmeralda shivered at Judge Frollo's query, and despite herself trying to contain her honestly, she found she couldn't.

"I see the way you look at me," she accused angrily, and almost instantly she regretted her words as the Judge recoiled.

He spluttered indignantly for a moment, his face reddening.

"HOW DARE YOU?!" Frollo bellowed, enraged, startling the young woman so bad that she let out a muffled squeak. "Your…soul, if you even have one, is so unclean, you can't even imagine the goodness in others. I should have known. No filthy gypsy witch would truly want to be saved, especially not you!"

His voice was full of such anger and cold fury, that Esmeralda was caught completely off-guard by his attitude.

She could not help but flinch, for she'd never heard anyone, not even Clopin, sound like this before. Simply put, the man sounded terrifying. Gone was his calculating and somewhat distant politeness towards her.

Esmeralda could not even form a reply to his outburst, for she had lost her ability to speak.

This could not be happening. Could not be happening… Oh, but it was.

Esmeralda froze. A cold blast of nausea snaked its way throughout her entire body and made her skin shiver, leaving a horrible ringing in her throbbing eardrums at his expression.

Whatever hate-filled poisonous venom the Judge spat at her as he ranted and raved out here on the balcony terrace was left inaudible. Her brows twitched as she looked upward at him.

"CAPTAIN!" he bellowed, lunging for Esmeralda, and grabbing onto her arm.

Frollo lowered his voice as his ironclad grip on her arm tightened, and he pulled her close, so his thigh accidentally brushed against hers, and he had to practically lean down to whisper his warning into the shell of Esmeralda's right ear.

"I warn you, girl, I could be a good friend to you, but I can also be a terrible enemy!" he growled. "The choice is yours!"

The Judge was facing her, watching her, teeming with anticipation as he waited for his captain of the guard to arrive.

There was no anger on his face, no excitement, no lust. Nothing. Nothing evil. And Esmeralda was alarmed by this.

She looked around wildly for an escape, praying to spot any sign of the bell ringer, but the boy was nowhere to be found.

"I…" Esmeralda's breaths died on her tongue, her tongue refusing her words' release, though before she could speak further, to plead with the Judge to show an ounce of compassion, she was struck with another wave of queasiness that almost left half her brain struck dumb and unconscious.

She heard her anxious breathing and her knees trembled badly until one of them collapsed and she felt her body pitch forward.

Esmeralda would have fallen were it not for a pair of strong arms suddenly latching onto either side of her shoulders.

The ringing on her ears was even louder this time, and as Esmeralda blearily lifted her chin, expecting it to be Judge Frollo who had righted her fall, she found a man clad in silver armor and a bright blue woolen cloak staring at her, her stomach twisting into knots as a coil in her gut twisted anxiously.

It was that soldier boy, the very same who had stood enthralled by the Judge's side watching her performance earlier. The gilded golden-haired man's kind hazel eyes were fixed on her. Solely her. As if the world had suddenly become devoid of women and she was but the last one left.

The man's cape and silver armor looked virtuous on him, and the Captain looked every bit like the knight from the tales of old that old Gwendolyn had used to tell her before bedtime when she was but a little girl. His eyes were a glistening light hazel brown, and Esmeralda would have sworn she saw a speckle of pink blush flush his cheeks high with color before he pointedly averted her gaze and looked to the Judge.

"Your Grace?" the captain of the king's archers and the cathedral guard questioned; his tone guarded.

The Judge merely proceeded to raise his eyebrows in anger as his narrowed pale gray orbs flitted from the Captain to her.

"Kindly escort this heathen gypsy witch and my hearth keep back to the Palace of Justice, Captain. I wish to have words with the Barreau girl for her role in what transpired today, and this one," he sneered, straightening his posture as he stood towering over Esmeralda, though not as tall as the blond captain, "has a cell below in our dungeons with her name on it."

Esmeralda's skin prickled and bile corrupted her throat as she fought back against the tears that begged to be freed from her lids and her hallowed breathing stretched her throat until it hurt, and the sensation worsened when she heard the soldier speak.

"Yes, Your Grace," he murmured, inclining his head.

She looked up quietly, exhaling a shaking breath as the pair slowly swiveled their heads and watched the Judge's imposing silhouette vanish from the bell tower balcony, leaving the two of them out here alone in the frigid cold winter air.

The moment the Judge had quit the scene of the bell tower's balcony, Esmeralda felt the ironclad grip of that soldier boy's hand on her shoulder and felt the hot burning of a torch being thrust entirely too close to her face for her own comfort.

Esmeralda had little time to react, her view now completely obstructed by the blinding light and heat from the lighted fire.

The gilded, golden-haired man's ironclad grip on her shoulder softened slightly, and as the torch in the soldier's gloved hand lowered, Esmeralda slowly opened her eyes, black spots swirling in front of her vision, though those slowly ebbed and vanished and soon she was able to see clearly again.

She looked up quietly and surely, the captain was able to notice nausea and revulsion in her face as he stared aghast with her expression.

The man lost the vigor in his chiseled, strong face and replaced it in it was a cautious mask of fury.

"Will you come quietly?" the man's deep baritone asked as he cleared his throat to keep her attention remained fixated on him.

It did not escape Esmeralda's attention that he looked bored, as though he would rather be anywhere else but here.

It was then that it hit her. There was no escaping her fate, and her fate was to be escorted and imprisoned at the Palace of Justice. It was a dark place, that prison. With dark walls, dark fires, and cold, besides. And her people didn't do well inside walls, inside cages.

She shivered as she stared at the captain. He was beginning to tense in suspicion as he narrowed his hazel eyes on her.

The golden-haired captain of the king's archer's and of the cathedral guard must have sensed Esmeralda's hesitation, for his grip loosened slightly on his arm, though he made no effort to remove it.

"Please come without a fuss, mademoiselle. You really are quite pretty, you know. I'd hate to have to use force against you to get you to comply with the man's order. I'd rather not ruin your pretty little face..."

Esmeralda slowly lifted her gaze and locked eyes with the judge's chosen trusted captain of the cathedral guard and sighed as she found herself looking face-to-face with the handsome, blond, Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers for the very first time.

A/N: I feel kind of bad it took several chapters for Esmeralda and Phoebus to meet for the first time, but since it's a long fic and I feel like at least Disney movies tend to rush things, I'm trying not to do that, where they meet for like five minutes and fall in love 3 days later lol.

Stay tuned for more! The next chapter is a somewhat cute Esmeralda/Phoebus POV since they meet for the first time :)