Chapter 11

"But from everlasting to everlasting, the Lord's love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children's children."

Psalm 103:17


Selena sat in her jail cell with her back against the wall. She closed her eyes, attempting to ignore Phoebus who had been frantically trying to convince her she was his long-lost sister for the past half hour. In separate cells, Esmeralda and Clopin's eyes darted back and forth between the siblings.

"Selene!" He said repeatedly, shaking the bars of his cell loudly, "I'm not stopping until you answer. Selene! Selene! Selene!"

He took a deep breath before continuing.

"Selene, Selene, Selene, Selene, Selene!"

Esmeralda rubbed her temples. Clopin laid down, bored. It was like watching children.

"What?!" Safira finally snapped, startling them to their feet.

"Humor me. Please."

Safira looked at him. She could see it in his eyes; he truly believed she was this "Selene." He looked so sad, she had to give in. She stood up, looking at him expectantly. Phoebus took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully.

"When I was five years old, my sister, Selene, was kidnapped by a Romani couple. We never found them. But that didn't stop our father from looking you; he searched until the day he died."

"Your father," she corrected him, "I'm sorry for your loss but you're mistaking me for someone else."

"I have proof."

"Show me."

Phoebus unclasped his gold necklace, tossing it into her cell. Safira bent down to pick it up, studying it curiously. It had an indentation just like hers. Her features hardened, her other hand slowly reaching for her pendant. She yanked it off, breaking the chain.

With trembling hands, she interlocked the pendants. They fit together perfectly. She gasped quietly when the locket opened with a soft click. She had never been able to open it before. Safira opened it, shuddering loudly at the engraving. She read it out loud.

"Selene," her voice quaked, blinded by stinging tears.

Guilt prompted Clopin to step forward, gripping his cell bars.

"He's telling the truth."

Safira looked up at Clopin, shocked. She found her rage. Her eyes darkened to a black sapphire. He could see her mix of emotions; pain, confusion, anger. Frightening as she was, it was time he stopped being a coward and told the truth.

"Rubina and Sacha were unable to have children of their own so... they took one. They kept you in the Court of Miracles when they found out you were the daughter of the captain of the guard. They couldn't risk being exposed. I'm sorry, Safira."

Her breathing quickened, tears rolling down her cheeks. She gripped the necklaces tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"Everyone knew? All this time?"

"Yes."

Safira's vision began to blur. Her forehead began to sweat. She felt hot and lightheaded, swaying where she stood. It was too much information to take in at once. Everything she had ever known was a lie.

She heard their muffled cries of concern before she fell to the floor unconscious.


Notre Dame mourned for the people of Paris as they all gathered to protest Esmeralda's execution.

Soldiers held back protestors as she stood tied to a stake, surrounded by hay. The executioner stood by with a lit torch. Frollo held a scroll, reading her crimes out loud. Safira and Phoebus struggled uselessly inside their mobile prisons along with the rest of the Romanis. They were completely helpless to save her.

"The gypsy Esmeralda has refused to repent!" Frollo announced, "The sentence: death!"

Protestors shouted angrily, attempting to push past the guards. Frollo grabbed the torch from the executioner, speaking inaudibly to Esmeralda. Whatever he said to her, it upset her enough to spit in his face. Frollo responded with wrath.

"It's time to send this unholy demon back where she belongs!" He announced, setting the hay aflame.

"No!" Safira cried out, shaking the bars violently.

The crowd of Parisians suddenly gasped, pointing upward.

"What is that!? In the sky?!"

Safira looked up, squinting at the flying figure. An angel? No... It was Quasimodo! He swung through the air, gripping the rope tightly. He let go, landing on the stage. He rushed to Esmeralda, ripping her binds effortless before slinging her unconscious body over his shoulder. He was quickly surrounded by three shoulders. The hunchback grabbed the burning stake, striking them. They fell off the stage, allowing him enough time to grab the swinging rope and return to the cathedral. He climbed to the very top, standing on the balcony. He held her over his head, declaring sanctuary.

Frollo ordered the soldiers to invade the cathedral. Phoebus took advantage of the soldiers' distraction. He grabbed a guard, putting him in a chokehold before knocking him unconscious and grabbing his keys. He freed himself and grabbed a spear, jumping on top of his cage to rile up the crowd.

"Citizens of Paris! Frollo has persecuted our people, ransacked out city! Now, he has claimed war on Notre Dame herself! Will we allow it?!"

Safira had goosebumps, the crowd releasing one giant war cry before freeing the caged Romanis. Phoebus jumped down, freeing Safira from her cage. She stepped outside of it, looking at him warily.

She fainted the night before upon learning who she was. She rejected the truth, unable to accept it, but as she looked at Phoebus now, her heart told her she was looking at her brother.

"Phoebus-" she began warily but he merely nodded over his shoulder with a grin.

"Let's have some fun."

A slow smile appeared on Safira's face; her veins filled with a sudden adrenaline. If there was one place she felt comfortable, it was the battlefield. They charged into the crowd, fighting soldiers with only their fists until they got their hands on swords. Now armed, the siblings fought closely together, covering each other's backs.

Molten fire began to pour from the gargoyle rain spouts. Sweat dripped down Safira's face, stinging the gashes on her cheek. They slay soldier after soldier, preventing more from entering the cathedral.

"Look! Up there!" A soldier shouted, pointing at the cathedral.

Safira looked up, horrified to see Quasimodo and Esmeralda dangling from a rain spout. Dread filled her as Frollo slashed his sword in their direction, forcing Quasimodo to jump from spout to spout. Safira turned towards the cathedral with every intention of running inside.

"Selene, look out!" Phoebus shouted.

She howled in pain; a dagger stabbed into her side. She looked at the soldier who had snuck up on her and shoved him off. He staggered backwards, dagger in hand, but he was too slow. Safira shoved her sword through his chest with a furious cry. She looked into his eyes and saw the horror before they glazed over.

She panted, placing her foot on his stomach and kicking him off her sword. Her sword to the ground with a clang, her hand reaching for her injury. She was bleeding profusely, weakening her. She fell dizzily to her knees in an exhausted slump.

Phoebus rushed to her side. He knelt down, pulling her into his arms. Her eyes began to close but he slapped her cheek repeatedly. She forced her eyes open but even in her weakened state, Safira could only think of one thing.

"Save them," she whispered.

Phoebus teared up, affectionately brushing her wet hair off her sweaty forehead. He didn't want to let her go; he didn't want to lose her again after just having found her.

"Go," she pleaded lowly.

Phoebus clenched his teeth, tears staining his cheeks. He nodded, holding back tears as he gently set her on the ground and ran inside the cathedral.


The city of Paris rejoiced; Frollo was dead. In his attempt to murder his adoptive son, he fell into the very hellfire he cursed upon them. The Romani people were free of his persecution; Frollo would terrorize the city no longer. Phoebus made it just in time to save Quasimodo from the same fate but he was gone before Quasimodo could thank him.

Quasimodo and Esmeralda watched the frantic man run back outside. He returned shortly, cradling a motionless Safira in his arms. He quickly shoved the woman in Quasimodo's arms.

"Take her, we'll go find help!"

The hunchback nodded, taking her into the bell tower while Phoebus and Esmeralda searched for a doctor.

Quasimodo placed her on his bed, pressing a clean washcloth against her wound with shaking hands. He pressed it against her side with one hand, the other slowly reaching up to her face. He cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb over it affectionately. She was deathly pale and her breathing was shallow. He shut his eyes, crying silently.

His eyes snapped open when he felt her hand over his. She looked at him, dazed and confused.

"Quasimodo?"

"I'm here," he said, caressing her cheek fondly.

She began to remember what happened, attempting to sit up but couldn't push past the pain. Quasimodo urged her to lay down.

"But Frollo –"

"- is dead."

She relaxed instantly. His hand slid down to her neck, squeezing it soothingly. She closed her eyes, displaying her long eyelashes. His eyes softened, filled with a fierce temptation to hold her but he resisted. The fuzzy feelings "Sacha" gave him returned tenfold as he looked at the pretty woman.

How did he not see it before?

Her hand traveled slowly down his arm then back up to his wrist. He held his breath as she pressed his hand against her soft skin, sleepily opening her eyes.

"Forgive me for deceiving you."

He brushed her hair off her face, stroking her charcoal locks lovingly.

"There's nothing to forgive."

Safira looked at the moisture on his cheeks; she was touched by his tears and wanted nothing more than to wipe them away. They stared at each other, each withholding the urge to take the other in their arms. Instead, they savored their innocent touches until Phoebus and Esmeralda arrived with a medicine man.

"Quickly," Phoebus instructed the doctor, forcing Quasimodo to remove himself.

They hovered over the doctor who eventually had to shoo the trio away. He proceeded to cut her tunic open to gain access to her wound; red-faced, Quasimodo quickly exited his bedroom, Phoebus and Esmeralda following behind him.

Phoebus sighed heavily, sitting on a barrel. Esmeralda placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. His muscles were tense from the stress; for a moment, Phoebus thought Safira had been killed in battle. He praised the Lord when he found her still breathing. Safira was a warrior but he couldn't help worrying about his young sister.

"I just..." Phoebus struggled, "I can't lose her again."

"We won't," Quasimodo assured him, "She's too stubborn to die."

Phoebus couldn't help but laugh. Esmeralda chuckled, shaking her head amusedly. Quasimodo was right; Safira was going to be fine.