The Fires of Hell: Part Five
The sun had fully set by the time Phoebus and the young guard Saundier reached the corridor that housed Judge Frollo's chambers. And as the two men came to stop directly outside it, the older and taller turned to regard the other. For a brief moment he looked at him, before they exchanged nods of understanding.
Without hesitation, Saundier slid his key into the shackles' lock, granting Phoebus his freedom, before he bowed his head to his former superior officer. Though this was what Phoebus wanted, the younger man still had his doubts. It was one thing to speak out for the gypsy woman, and another thing entirely to walk into Frollo's chambers to find her. But the Captain had made up his mind about the matter, and Saundier wouldn't hinder him.
"I shall alert the guards, sir. No one shall bother you."
Phoebus nodded, as he shifted the concealed dagger in his sleeve, and both men heard the crucial words that remained unspoken. Frollo wasn't a fighter as far as experience went, but he would surely put up a fight when no guards answered his bellows . . . and that might result in the corrupt Judge's death. There was too much at stake if this conflict went further, and Phoebus had finished taking chances. He had promised that Frollo would pay for what he had done to Esmeralda, and he meant to keep his vow.
"I thank you, Saundier," he said quietly, his voice quite calm despite what he planned to do. "For everything you have done on my behalf. I shall never forget the debt I owe you, and the other men who granted me this chance."
The younger guard smiled, and though it relayed his worry it was also very sincere. "There is no debt, sir. We'd all do it again in a heartbeat. . . I have faith in you, as do the others. . . But please Captain, be careful."
Phoebus placed a hand on the lad's shoulder as a way of parting, before Saundier turned on his heel and the former Captain entered into Frollo's chamber.
Phoebus entered silently into the candle lit chamber, knife still concealed in his sleeve and eyes bright and intent. Upon first glance, there seemed to be no one in the room- there was no sound nor movement of any kind. But then upon further inspection, the soldier found that a figure was standing in the far corner next to the only window. Since it was dark outside and the person was wearing garments of the deepest black, it had been no wonder that Phoebus had been unable to see him. . . But as the man slowly drew closer to the window, his eyes became fully accustomed to the dim light of the candles. And what he saw truly gave him pause.
Phoebus had only known Judge Claude Frollo for several months, seeing as he had only been transferred back to Paris around that time, but even in such a short period the seasoned soldier had formed impressions of the man. He was cold, cruel, and all together savage in his views of life. There were no gray areas; nothing but absolutes and the church. He was a man without feeling other than to pay homage to his own devices; utterly oblivious to the plight of anyone- even himself. . . And yet, Phoebus now found him in a state which he never would have thought possible.
The driven Judge stood, looking out of the window, his eyes horrifically wide as he gazed out to the smoky city of Paris that had been burning not a full week prior. His mouth was a twisted line that spoke words without audible sound, and he was as pale as freshly fallen snow. But it was the tears that fell from his now soulless eyes that made Phoebus stop and regard him. . . The tears of one he had believed unable to cry.
Finally, when the former Captain was able to reign in his shock, he moved into action. Letting the knife slide from within his sleeve, he came to stand only several feet away from the manic man, prepared for whatever his actions might cause. . . Then he addressed him.
"Frollo." At his voice, Frollo started and turned his frenzied gaze to stare at him- but Phoebus wasn't fazed by it. "I do not wish to hurt you; I have not come to fight. But I will if I have to."
When Frollo didn't move or speak, he asked cautiously, "Where is Esmeralda?"
For a long minute Frollo was silent, before his face transformed into a demented mask of woe. Then, to the soldier's surprise, the older man lifted shaking hands to his temples, and let a cry fly out into the air. Phoebus had heard the dying screams of many in his lifetime as a warrior, but never in all his days had he dreamed such a sound existed anywhere save for the dreamscape of a night-terror. It was the sound of one driven insane; of a man mourning and taken purely by his demons. It was somewhere caught between a sob and a screech, and it made the younger man's blood run cold in his veins.
"Frollo," he snapped, growing anxious. "Where is she?"
As the unearthly cry ended, Frollo's gaze roamed back to Phoebus, before it then slid to focus on a patch of floor on the other side of the room. For a moment the soldier was confused, before he followed the mad man's gaze. It was nothing more than a blanket lying in a heap . . . but then Phoebus noticed that it was oddly shaped . . . and from out of one corner, a delicate female hand lay for all to see. And it was as his golden gaze came to rest on the hand, that his fear consumed him. Without paying Frollo another thought, the man slowly moved over to the bundled blanket, and unceremoniously dropped to his knees. He knew that he himself was now shaking, but found that even with all his years of training he couldn't stop the reaction. Then, with baited breath, Phoebus took the edge of the coverlet and flipped it away.
There lay Esmeralda, surrounded by a pool of her own blood; her green eyes lifeless as they stared off to a spot only she had been able to see. Her body had already grown somewhat stiff, and her once beautiful face was swollen from the beating she had received. Her hair was matted, and her expression pained.
Phoebus shook his head, his heart shattering in his chest as he beheld her. Then, with gentle hands he reached out for her, taking her into his arms for the first time- and began to cry. And he was lost to the shock, until he heard a deep timbre sound from behind him.
"She chose Satan . . . as all her kind do. She has returned back to Hell where she belongs, with all those who have denied God."
Though Frollo said this aloud, it remained unclear if he was speaking to Phoebus or to himself. As he spoke his eyes moved constantly, his hands clenching and unclenching where they were placed at either side of his head.
"Are you happy now, Frollo," Phoebus spat, his voice a smoldering inferno of rage and grief, as he held the woman he had cared for close to him- his dagger long since forgotten at his side. "Now that you've killed her, will your hatred be sated?"
Frollo's eyes finally focused for a moment at the Captain's angered words, his gaze falling on the woman's corpse before he once more began to speak silently- his lips moving without sound ever escaping. Then he staggered closer to the window. With uncharacteristically clumsy fingers, he fumbled with the latch and opened the glass- letting the chilly night air enter into the dank room.
Phoebus watched silently, as Frollo continued to chant to himself- prayers in Latin, as he crossed himself. Then, he propelled himself out of the open window of the Palace of Justice- but not before he said his final word for the night to capture.
"Esmeralda . . ."
Phoebus watched as Frollo's black robe billowed out of sight, as he plummeted past his line of vision to the cobbled streets far below. And as he waited, the soldier knew that the Judge would surely die when his fall came to a stop.
He finally said your name beautiful one, he thought, looking at the woman with agony written across his handsome features. Without 'gypsy' or 'witch' or 'whore' attached to it. . . . And how dare he utter it after hurting you so. . .
Phoebus cradled Esmeralda's lifeless body to him tenderly, as his tears fell to her raven locks and his very soul mourned. For an unknown amount of time he stayed this way, crying silently as he held her. It was true that he had only known her for a day, but in that amount of time she had opened his eyes. She had forgiven him, and showed him how things should have been. . . She had given him hope, and the promise of her lovely Someday. . . and now she was gone. Taken and ruined by a fiend from the very depths of Hell, far from her home and loved ones and all things familiar. She had died terribly, at the hands of a monster; and it was more than Phoebus could bear.
And finally, as the inky black sky began to once more shift shades, and the first touches of the coming dawn rose high above the highest turrets of Notre Dame- he kissed her forehead and let his now raw voice break the still that had long since fallen.
"I failed you," he whispered sorrowfully, his golden eyes searching her frozen face desperately. "Frollo won, despite my intentions to save you. . . He murdered you, and I could do nothing to stop him. . . I am sorry, my dear Esmeralda. More than even I myself can comprehend; and I would tell you so, if you could hear me. . . Tell you how much I miss you, and wish you would return. . ."
And it was then, that a gentle voice answered him.
"I can hear you, my friend." Phoebus turned his head rapidly, his eyes blurred with tears as he fought to find the owner of the voice. "And I haven't left you. Not now, nor ever."
The man raised a hand to wipe the tears from his eyes, to regain his vision, but to his surprise soft fingers beat him to it. Tenderly they took his liquid sorrow away, never once making more contact than a butterfly's wing, before the fingers moved and Phoebus opened his eyes. . . And a broken cry fell from the Captain's lips.
" . . . Esmeralda? . . ."
Esmeralda smiled at him, her face once more beautiful and perfect, as she looked up at her friend with contented emerald eyes. Phoebus looked at her, before he then returned his gaze to the corpse he still held in his hands, and then back to the living woman. . . But then he noticed how she glowed.
It wasn't overwhelming to the senses, but wafted about her form like a halo of evening stars. It was a soft light . . . a comforting haze that made her seem even more beautiful than she had in life, if such a thing was possible. And the man felt his heart hurt, as he looked at the woman wistfully.
"You're still gone."
Esmeralda's smile never faltered as she placed a hand to his weary shoulder. "Yes, Phoebus. I am dead, but I live on."
The man slowly let his hands fall from the shattered human shell he had clung to so desperately, before he bowed his head in remorse. "I couldn't save you, the fault lies with me. I cannot hope that you will forgive me a second time, but I would let you know of my regret, Esmeralda."
"There is fault to share, my friend. And it doesn't lie with you, but with the one who brought us here and myself." she replied calmly. "I held pride and doubted my own heart, and my actions caused many to come to harm. . . But all of my shortcomings have been forgiven, and I no longer feel my sins as I once did."
Then, Esmeralda raised a star-kissed finger and lifted the man's chin so that he was looking her in the eye. What he saw there took his breath away, as he was struck by the power behind them; there was no hesitation or doubt there, only peace- and it was awe-inspiring.
"Your heart aches because I am dead. But I am happy, Phoebus." Here, the emerald eyes grew wet at the corners with joy. "There is no more pain or suffering. My chains and burdens have been taken from me, and all my regret is gone. . . And my Someday has come."
A bittersweet smile crossed the man's lips, as he reached out a hesitant hand to rest at her cheek. As his palm came to stay there, a tingling warmth took the place of his numbness, and he sighed softly.
"I wish to see Someday with you, my dearest Esmeralda. . . I don't want to be left behind."
"But it is not your time, Phoebus." She turned her head so that she was nuzzling into his hand. "There are still things you need to accomplish, people you must help protect, and a future you must rise to meet."
"I see no future without you."
The haloed woman hugged him then, wrapping her arms around him as the sun rose and lit the room in the yellow and pink of the new day.
"I love you, Esmeralda," he said as he let his hand tangle within her midnight locks, and felt his heart falter at the thought of losing her.
"I love you too, Phoebus," she whispered, as her delicate hands rested at his upper back. "And I will wait for you, always."
The man never wanted to let go, but deep down he knew that the moment couldn't last. She had returned not to live, but to say her goodbyes. She had been granted enough time to give him hope, before she ascended to the gates of Heaven. And as fleeting as the time was, Phoebus knew that he would cherish it all of his days.
"Is there anything you would have me do, in your behalf?" He wished to help her in any way he could, and would do anything she asked of him.
"I would have you keep faith in our dream of a better world," she answered. "Frollo and others like him will always try to bar the way, but you must promise me that you won't give up."
"I swear to you, I won't."
Though he currently couldn't see her face, he could hear the smile in her voice.
"And I would have you find someone who is lost."
"Who do you speak of?"
"He is another who Frollo hurt, and one who the world has treated with cruelty and loathing." Esmeralda's voice grew tender as she continued. "He has been confined to Notre Dame his entire life, and has never lived, Phoebus."
Understanding took hold of the soldier. "You speak of the Bell-Ringer?"
"Quasimodo," Esmeralda agreed. "Please, help him as you did me. . ."
Phoebus pulled back so that he could see her face, and gave her a small smile. "I will do as you ask."
The woman returned the smile before she thanked him quietly. Then, the two fell into a peaceful silence, still holding onto each other as the sun warmed the entire room in its earthy light. Before, Esmeralda eyes lifted up to a place that Phoebus couldn't see.
"It is time for me to go."
Phoebus wanted to beg her to stay with him, but fought back the urge. Instead he placed a kiss to both her hands, and basked in her presence.
"I'm not afraid," he whispered, quoting what she had said to him before leaving to face her death. "As long as you are with me."
"I'll always be with you, Phoebus." Her voice was full and loving with affectionate conviction, before she leaned forward and placed her lips to his. He kissed her back, returning the love with open adoration and care. The tingling that he had felt earlier now magnified until it filled him, and his whole body hummed with heavens light. . . And when he opened his golden eyes once more, Esmeralda was gone.
For several moments Phoebus waited, before he raised his hands to his eyes and once more began to cry. Though he could be happy for his beloved, the need to mourn was too great. There would be a time when he would pick himself back up and do as she had asked. He would find Quasimodo and continue to fight for a better world. But for now, he would let his heart break and re-mend itself, and think back on the time he had spent with the beautiful gypsy Esmeralda.
Hellfire, Dark Fire.
Forgotten and now gone.
Past Darkness, now Lost to this, tale of woe and scorn.
God Help the Outcasts, Tattered and Torn: seeking an answer to why they were born.
Out there, you'll find them: in need and in doubt.
We've made them Outcasts; don't shut them out.
The poor and unlucky, the weak and the odd . . . we
all are the children of God.
Two lovers now parted; how long, none can say.
But . . .
Someday they'll be reunited, and Heaven's Light shall reign.
~Fin~
A/N: Here marks the end of The Fires of Hell. It took me over two years to finish it, but I'm quite pleased with the result. ^^ This story holds a very close place to my heart, and I cried when I finished typing this conclusion. The bond between Esmeralda and Phoebus was very emotional and tender to write, and made my own heart ache for that glorious Someday. 3
This was truly a bittersweet ending, but the story wrote itself and I am glad for it. I would like to thank everyone who has read this story, and who waited so very long for the final installment. You were extremely patient and wonderful. I am thankful for you all.
Love you guys!
~Lyn