I really need to get better at this whole updating thing.
I like the occasional painfully dark story, so here's one of the darker what-ifs I've received.
Lapierredx01: What if Frollo had actually killed Quasimodo? What would he have done to Esmeralda?
Now keep in mind this will be mostly surrounding Frollo's point of view, these are not my opinions of, well, anything. Just how I interpret his demented mind. This is not a comment on anything else, these are Frollo's opinions on everything, and his interpretation of religion.
Frollo stood in the courtyard, sweating under the heavy robes despite the winter chill, warmed by the heavy flames. The platform had been erected before Notre Dame herself, so she may bare witness to this cleansing, and so the citizens of Paris may take heed at what happens to those who succumb to evil. Thick black smoke rose to the reddened dusk sky, the bitter wind bringing the smell of burning wood, straw, and the acrid smell of charred flesh to his nose. He took no joy in knowing the pain suffered before death, but took great solace in knowing they were cleansed of the sins of this foul world and would be welcomed into a greater kingdom. While he shuddered at the thought of such a foul creature sullying the purity of Heaven, he knew it was not for him to place judgment upon the mortal.
He looked away from the curling flames, their growing strength stinging his eyes. He saw a well a few meters away, and recalled another night he cleansed the evil of this world. He had caught another one of them the nomadic sinful beasts who refused to settle like civilized folk. Who refused to honor the sabbath and pay homage to God. They lived such filthy sinful lives, eating what they wished, copulating without the sacrament of marriage, stole from the holy people of Paris. They were a disease trying to rot Paris from the inside. They were trying to flee the city, a pair of these animals. To spread their disease all across France. His soldiers were working far too hard across Europe to protect his beloved nation for those creatures to desecrate her with their vile ways. The guards had captured the man, but the woman dared to flee with a bundle in her arms.
His initial reaction had been wrong, looking back he wish it had merely been a bundle of stolen goods she fled with so desperately. She had tried to flee to Notre Dame herself, calling sanctuary as if she had any right to ask for such a sacred right. I took her bundle, but the animal stumbled back, her head spilling open on the cold stair. Judgement passed down from heaven for her heathen ways, her prayers for sanctuary were answered. I opened the bundle, wondering which precious items had been stolen to find something far worse than silver wrapped within. It was a grotesque monster, a malformed daemon spawned from hell itself. He wrinkled his nose, recalling how that gypsy had dared to try and demand sanctuary for her daemon. I had to deliver the wretched creature from this world, cast it back to whence it came. I had to burn the creature that spawned it, whose tainted blood was staining the holy stair of Notre Dame.
"How dare these animals spread their evil and their filth throughout this city," He muttered, looking around for a solution to his plight. He wanted to cast this daemon from his arms before it woke. He saw a well, from which the priests and bishops, and other servants of God drew their water. He carried the bundle, looking down into the murky depths. The creature squirmed, giving a soft coo. He hesitated, for but a moment, and released his grip.
That foul day was nearly twenty years ago, on a bitter stormy winter day such as this. He had been fighting hard to purse Paris of this plague that haunted her. Just earlier this day he had been forced to suffer their foul hedonistic festiival, appropriately named 'The Festival of Fools' they were fools indeed. They thought they could mock him, display their evil sinful lifestyle and try to lure other Parisians to succumb to temptation. That's when she appeared.
A siren, using lust to woo the crowd. Dressed as a common harlot the woman flaunted her body in ways none but her husband should see. But her fellow animals never followed marriage as a proper sacrament. They would have some foolish man called them 'married' but they would refuse to kneel before the cross and vow before God to dedicate their lives to this holy sacrament. She danced, he was forced to endure. But she had to push her limits, she had to mock him, throwing her scarf at him. It was lavishly colored, a symbol of her vanity. Her mockery a side of pride. Her dancing a display of her lust. Throwing the scarf at the authority she hated an open display of her Wrath. Her enjoyment of attention from the crowd, especially the men, a sign of her Gluttony. How she signaled for gold coins in payment of her dance proving her Greed. This is how she earned her keep, but refused to work for the city of Paris, prefered to continue her lifestyle, only working when the need for food arose. Sloth.
The cardinal sins, crimes he could not ignore. He ordered her arrested, for he knew what he had to do. She had tried to elude capture, and had manged to hide behind the doors of Notre Dame for a short time. But in less than a week she was forced to flee, and had fallen into the hands of his guards. She had believed him impatient enough to give up chase after several days, but with his prey cornered he would never give up. A holy man never shied away from God's work. So he had the platform erected, on that first night. So she could see her fate, accept it, and do penance.
She had faught her captors, tried to use the same tricks to escape but a simple gypsy bitch could not match the strength of four armed honorable Parisian Christian men. He didn't want to risk her escaping prison, and demanded she be tied to the stake immediately. The whole of the city had seen her display. She was bound, a man sent to light a torch, another to cry for the city to come witness the event.
The crowd formed quickly, always eager to watch the purification of evil. It soothed his troubled heart. For as he looked into the crowd he knew that for every beast he cast from this world there were a hundred good God fearing holy men and women in his city. The bishop of Notre Dame had tried to fight against this purification, and Frollo had his guards lock the man inside the cathedral. He would worry about the supposed holy servant of God turning his back on the word of God after, he wanted to focus on this woman first.
He turned away from the well, pulled from his musing. The fire was large, and the screaming had stopped. Every few moments the wind blew the flames, a part displaying the body of the creature beneath. No longer a sinful heathen. She had been purified. Frollo took a deep breath, the smoke choking him, filling him with a sense of accomplishment. He had done God's work this day, but there were many more creatures left to purge from this world.
Note: "Bitch" also means female dog, not just slang. It was more of a derogatory way to have Frollo call her a dog.