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Esmeralda woke with a heavy heart and a raw soreness between her legs - cruel reminders of the choice she had been forced to make many months ago, bound to a stake with flames dancing around her feet and the pleading eyes of her friends all around her.
Choose me or the fire...
The gypsy girl could not help but shudder as those words echoed in her mind, just as they had every day since that moment - she had given up her freedom, binding herself to a man she detested in order to save her loved ones. That night her virgin blood had stained the Minister's pristine sheets, cries of mingled pain and pleasure, of horror and disgust, ringing through the shadowy corridors of the Palace of Justice as Frollo claimed her as his wife.
The fire inside her, that singular radiance which glowed from within, had died when he first touched her - Esmeralda was cold and numb, her jade eyes forever glistening with tears, bitter and unshed. She would not cry...that would mean admitting defeat and her pride was the one thing she had left in the world...
Well...that and her beloved soldier...
Phoebus...
A pardon for the disgraced soldier was one of the many stipulations Esmeralda had insisted upon in return for her surrender. Frollo's reluctance in this matter had been remarkably short-lived - indeed, it seemed that he could refuse her nothing when she was naked beneath him.
Phoebus had been loath to accept his reinstatement at first, not wanting to watch the woman he loved in the arms of his enemy. He spat vitriolic curses at Frollo's envoy and had even made plans to return to his old army barracks in Calais but Esmeralda had caught him at the last moment and begged him to stay. Her heart-felt pleas softened the man's resolve and, as he stooped to press a chaste kiss on her bejewelled hand, she had whispered pretty promises in her husky voice, quivering as his tongue flickered out to taste her brown skin.
The Judge's duties kept him extremely busy - something for which Esmeralda would be eternally grateful - and so his young wife was obliged to spend large portions of the day alone...or so Frollo believed. Of course, Phoebus was a blessed distraction on the rare days when his military skills were not required and so Esmeralda would spend many an hour watching the lazy progress of the sun across the sky as she lay in her soldier's sturdy oak bed, satiated and sleepy after lovemaking.
They would talk between kisses, whispering tender words of romance and desire to one another until the urge came over them again and then Phoebus would sweep her into his arms, adorning every inch of her body with his hands and mouth. Only there, in the Captain's humble cottage by the Seine, was the gypsy's inner spark ignited...only with Phoebus by her side could she feel whole again...
It was always so hard to leave. When the shadows began to creep across the room Esmeralda would rise to wash and dress, pointedly ignoring the way Phoebus's jaw clenched and his dark eyes gleamed with an intense ferocity and misery the likes of which threatened to overwhelm them both.
"I hate this," he would murmur, his hands firm and warm on her shoulders as they lingered in the doorway, "I hate having to share you with him."
"I know..."
A final kiss and a sad smile heralded her return to the Palace of Justice, that cold, gilded cage she now called home. It would be several weeks - perhaps even as long as a month - before the lovers could be alone together and, each time she left her golden-haired soldier's arms, Esmeralda could feel the icy fingers of loss tightening around her aching heart as the familiar numbness set in...she knew it would not thaw until she was in Phoebus's arms once again.
Until next time, my darling..
Esmeralda's life might have gone on in this fashion for the foreseeable future had she not made a fatal mistake...a mistake which would put an end to her secret relationship with Phoebus forever...
It was a wind-swept morning in January when Frollo announced over breakfast that he would be leaving Paris later that same day in order to attend an important audience with the King in Avignon. Esmeralda had received this welcome news with a fittingly gracious air, her calm expression betraying nothing of the immense joy she felt inside. Frollo's absence was a welcome reprieve for the gypsy girl and her handsome soldier as they had not had an opportunity to be together for several weeks. Phoebus had been particularly busy during the past month and so it was only to be expected that the couple were eager to make up for lost time.
The mere thought of what delights awaited her in Phoebus's bed made Esmeralda shiver with anticipation and she was forced to bow her head to disguise the sudden smile that tugged at the corner of her full lips.
Frollo, misreading her body language as sadness on account of his imminent departure, crossed the room and swept her into a tight embrace. She flinched and pressed her face into the rich velvet of his robes, trying not to compare his loathsome touch to the way Phoebus held her - how she longed to feel her lover's arms around her, so powerful and yet also surprisingly gentle, like the soothing caress of a light breeze on a hot, dry afternoon...
Her shoulders shook and Frollo sighed, his hands dropping to the small of her back as he drew her closer, "I understand that the King's summons has come at short notice but it is of the greatest importance that I attend the meeting - I don't want to go, believe me...especially not today, on the eve of our first anniversary."
Esmeralda managed to keep a straight face as he reached down to cup her face in his hands - did the old fool honestly think she cared about their so-called anniversary? Ha!
She bit her lip in order to repress the laughter bubbling in her throat and shook her head, "Your duty as Minister of Justice comes first Claude - you can make it up to me when you return."
"Yes...and it will be a celebration the likes of which this accursed city has never seen before - I promise!" Frollo replied jovially and stooped to kiss her forehead before leaving to prepare for his departure, unaware that Esmeralda was already planning a little celebration of her own with his Captain of the Guard as the guest of honour...
Oh, Phoebus would be so happy to see her!
No sooner had Frollo and his entourage disappeared from sight, their departure heralded by a cloud of dust and flying hooves, Esmeralda wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and hurried along the riverbank to Phoebus's home, her heart pounding in her chest with excitement.
The Captain was in bed when she arrived. He had been injured during a skirmish with bandits earlier in the week and the shoulder wound was considered serious enough for his duties to be suspended for a brief period of respite.
Phoebus was already feeling restless after only a few days out of uniform and so his delight upon receiving an unexpected visitor was plain to see when Esmeralda peered around the door of his cottage, her bright green eyes sparkling with pure mischief.
"I've come to see the invalid," she laughed, perching on the edge of his bed as a broad smile spread across his drawn face. He was bare-chested save for a linen bandage covering his injury and a weeks growth of blond stubble adorned his square jaw, "How are you feeling?"
Grunting, Phoebus managed to push himself into an upright position, beads of sweat breaking out on his furrowed brow, "I think I'm in more danger of dying from boredom than anything else."
Esmeralda chuckled and reached out to run her fingers though his hair, "Well, I'm here now...I'm sure we can find some way to entertain each other..."
Phoebus grinned and covered her hand with his own, "Come - I want to see you...I've missed you..."
With a proud toss of her glossy curls Esmeralda climbed up onto the bed and straddled the golden-haired soldier. Phoebus stifled a moan of mingled desire and pain as she pressed herself against him.
"I love you," he whispered into her ear, his strong hands caressing the curve of her back and waist as she fumbled beneath the bedsheets to wrap her fingers around his burgeoning manhood, "I love you so much..."
The gypsy girl shifted slightly, rubbing her damp slit against the head of Phoebus's cock as he reached out to cup her breasts, his hazel eyes glistening with tears of wonder and longing.
He tried not to think about the outside world, biting his lower lip as Esmeralda carefully lowered herself onto his erect member, but he could not escape the terrible thoughts and images which suddenly surfaced within him, like ghostly sunken ships rising from the depths of a raging ocean.
When was the last time her husband fucked her? Was it only last night? This morning? Did she moan like this when Frollo touched her? Did she enjoy the feeling of that evil bastard's fingers lodged deep in her tight pussy? No...never...
Phoebus shook his head, tangling his hands in the gypsy girl's raven tresses as he snapped back to reality with a pleasant jolt. Esmeralda was bouncing on top of him, her red mouth open in a silent scream of euphoria as the Captain growled and buried his flushed face between her jiggling breasts.
"Oh...Phoebus! Yes! That feels so good!"
The soldier roared like a lion, losing control as he felt Esmeralda's hot juices gushing out around his cock - he couldn't help but reciprocate, shooting his seed deep into his womb with a final thrust before slumping back into the pillows with Esmeralda on top of him.
Exhausted and satiated, they stayed in that position for what seemed like an eternity, breathing as one whilst the sweat dried on their bodies and the sun began to set.
Eventually Esmeralda forced herself to move and, feeling light-headed and unsteady, she slid from the bed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she realised that Phoebus was asleep.
She dressed hurriedly, not wanting to rouse suspicion by being late home for supper, before pressing a light kiss against the snoring soldier's forehead and quietly taking her leave.
Esmeralda walked back to the Palace of Justice in a happy daze - the evening sky was clear and the air perfumed with honeysuckle and roses. She could feel Phoebus's semen trickling down her thigh and his scent lingered in her nostrils - everything seemed so wonderful, so perfect, in that moment until...
She rounded the corner and was confronted with a terrible sight...
The Minister's coach was outside the Palace of Justice.
Frollo was home.
Esmeralda's heart was pounding so hard that, for a moment, it threatened to burs from her chest. She kicked off her shoes in the darkened hallway of the Palace of Justice before sprinting up the staircase with her skirts hoisted high above her ankles. Her breathing was laboured and she paused at the top, clinging to the oak banister in an attempt to calm herself and collect her thoughts.
There was no way that her husband could have travelled all the way to Avignon, attending the King's meeting and travelled back to Paris within the space of eight hours...it was not humanly possible!
The gypsy girl cursed under her breath as the unmistakable scent of her lover's spunk reached her nostrils - why hadn't she had the sense to clean herself before leaving Phoebus's cottage?
She made her to the bedroom she shared with Frollo, peering around the door to ensure that he was not already inside waiting for her. A night-stand with a basin and jug atop it stood on the opposite wall and, pulling her dress up around her waist, she hurried across the room with the intention of washing away the evidence of her adultery.
Unfortunately, at that moment the door creaked open behind her and, dropping her skirts, the startled gypsy girl leapt back, her green eyes wide with fright as Frollo entered the room. He smirked at the sight of her and held out his arms in greeting.
"Happy anniversary, my love!"
Esmeralda forced herself to smile as she went to him and placed a dutiful kiss on his cheek. He embraced her and returned the gesture before releasing her. She swallowed and clenched her fists behind her back, voice wavering as she questioned him, "Wh-what are you doing home so early? I wasn't expecting you back for at least four days."
Frollo reached out to run his fingers through her unruly curls, "We were met on the road by the King's envoy - the meeting has been postponed indefinitely. But enough of that...I want you now..."
The Minister swept her into his arms and carried her the few feet from the doorway to the bed before gently laying her down on the silk sheets. He then pulled away and began to undress, his eyes gleaming with lust and anticipation. Esmeralda's stomach churned as she watched him and eventually she closed her eyes, silently praying that he would not notice Phoebus's seed drying on her inner thighs. Her mind raced as she tried to think of an a way to delay the inevitable but one look at Frollo's face ensured her that any excuse she came up with would not stop him. He was practically drooling with excitement...
He kicked his discarded clothes aside and mounted the bed. His cock was so hard - it seemed to grow and pulsate before the horrified gypsy's very eyes as he positioned himself over her and pressed the tip of it against her opening.
Relief overwhelmed Esmeralda, the last vestiges of fear draining away as her husband's erection nudged insistently against her thigh and pussy - he was too caught up in the moment to notice the tell-tale signs of her infidelity...
She going to get away with it...everything was going to be fine...
Suddenly, Frollo's voice rang out above her head, low and ragged with a strange mixture of desire, confusion and rage...
"Filthy whore!"
Dawn in Paris.
Roused by a familiar cacophony as the Palace of Justice stirred and roared to life around her, Esmeralda awoke to find herself on the floor, shivering and stiff-limbed. She opened her eyes, blinking owlishly at the brightness of the day, and stretched, only to yelp in pained surprise as her entire body seemed to scream in protest.
A few tense moments passed before the young woman could bring herself to move, uncurling her limbs with deliberate caution; she winced and gnawed at her lip, stifling a cry of dismay as the extent of her injuries became apparent. Bruises mottled the exposed planes of her torso, fresh and numerous, in livid shades of purple and yellow. Her wrists were chafed and raw, her breasts...oh!
Memories of the previous evening, disjointed and hazy, flickered though Esmeralda's mind...Frollo looming above her, his face twisted into a demon's mask...his hands around her throat...she was dying, her last thoughts of her family and friends...of Phoebus, waiting for her in his cottage by the river...
"Phoebus!"
The word - sacred, illustrious, the name of a God - died on Esmeralda's bloodied lips. Heart pounding, she lurched to her feet, the sting of her wounds rendered dull by apprehension and despair. Her red-rimmed eyes darted around the room and she started forward, fully intending to throw herself from the window; such a death, by her own hand, was imminently preferable to a life without her beloved soldier. She climbed onto the broad sill, relishing the cool marble beneath her feet, and stared down, trying to imagine herself as a crimson stain on the cobbles below...
"I think not!"
Sinewy arms clasped Esmeralda's waist, dragging her back as she spat and struggled like a wildcat. The Minister chuckled grimly, his grip tightening around her flayed wrists. The gypsy fell to her knees, writhing in agony at her husband's feet.
"Witchcraft, adultery and suicide...a true disciple of Satan," Frollo's lips thinned in a grim mockery of a smile as he caressed his wife's quivering shoulders, digging his fingernails into her tender flesh, "Rest assured, I will see you reunited with your dark master...but you must suffer first, my love. Oh yes, you will beg for the torments of the fiery pit before this day is out."
The afternoon passed in a blur of fear and pain for Esmeralda. Dressed in the ragged shift of a condemned soul, she waited for what seemed like an eternity, blowing on her fingers in a desperate attempt to fend off the cold. When Frollo finally reappeared, she kept her angry gaze fixed on the flagstones at his feet, determined not to provoke him into further violence...his temper was unpredictable at the best of times. The gypsy hissed through her teeth as he propelled her forward roughly; she caught her lip between her teeth as the raw wounds on her back opened at his touch and began to bleed anew.
A seemingly endless descent into the cold bowels of the dungeon until at last, smirking at his wife's obvious distress, the Minister caught Esmeralda by the wrist again and jerked her to an abrupt halt before a heavy wooden door. She twisted in his grasp, tossing her head like an agitated filly as he produced an ornate key from the folds of his robe and unlocked the door, sweeping her into the darkness beyond. Once her eyes had adjusted to the gloom, Esmeralda felt her heart sink as she realised what lay before her; a trapdoor built into the floor. As a child she had been terrified by Clopin's tales of the dreaded oubliette, where unfortunates were left to starve or be eaten by rats...
No!
Esmeralda swallowed, choking back a scream of horror as Frollo kicked open the hatch and pointed into the shadows below. She inched forward to peer over his shoulder, quivering as a blast of icy air drifted up from the depths...and an anguished cry echoed around her, carried by this unnatural breeze. A man's voice, cracked and hoarse with suffering...
"Phoebus!"
She clutched at her throat in despair, stumbling away from the hellish pit and the pain of the man she loved. Frollo nodded in grim satisfaction, his sharp fingers hooked into the flesh of her forearm as she shook her head numbly, as if trying to deflect his malicious words.
"Your whore-master awaits you, my love, bloodied and broken. Just as he should be. I had his hands crushed this morning...oh yes, the same filthy hands that dared to touch you, to cup your breasts and caress your bare skin. He will never grip the hilt of a sword again, your pretty soldier. Such a pity."
Esmeralda's stomach turned as she thought of Phoebus's hands - strong, callused, gentle - being pulverised in a cruel vice. Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she reached up to brush them away, her voice husky with emotion as she forced herself to speak, "Can I see him? Please."
"Hmm, I believe they should be starting work on his lower body now but no matter. You can watch."
As she descended into the darkness, Esmeralda felt her gorge rise as the stench of decay and misery rose up to meet her. She paused and closed her eyes, dreading what was to come...Phoebus, her golden lion, could be dying in this nightmarish place and she couldn't even speak to him, let alone hold him in her arms...
Frollo was close behind her, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of her forearm, and Esmeralda bared her teeth in silent fury as his warning flashed through her mind; "You will obey my every command, without question or complaint. You will not attempt to comfort the prisoner, or communicate with him. The slightest transgression on your part will only result in further suffering for the unfortunate Captain Phoebus; he will be punished in your stead and you will watch. Do I make myself clear, Esmeralda?"
"Esmeralda!"
Frollo hissed her name, tightening his grip on her arm. The gypsy opened her eyes and realised that they had finally reached the bottom of the subterranean cell. She squinted in the darkness, trying to get her bearings, and reluctantly allowed the Minister to guide her deeper into the shadows.
A few moments passed before the guttering light of a torch came into view, illuminating the dank, stone walls of the labyrinthine chamber. Esmeralda blinked in the sudden brightness and stepped back, startled, as two familiar figures appeared in the darkness of a crude doorway ahead. Frollo moved forward to speak with them and she relaxed almost immediately, recognising them as Phoebus's former lieutenants - brutish and moronic in equal measure, they had been the bane of her existence for as long as she could remember.
An anguished groan echoed out from the room behind them and Esmeralda clenched her fists, struggling to control herself as the Minister smirked and his guards exchanged covert grins at the sound of Phoebus's torment. Noticing the young woman's discomfort, Frollo dismissed the men and summoned her to his side with an elegant wave of his hand. Without a word, he directed her into the room beyond the door - a wretched pit, bitterly cold and bereft of the most basic comforts, although one curved wall was 'decorated' with vicious-looking implements of torture. And beside them...
Esmeralda gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth, stifling a scream of horror...
There, chained to the wall, was Captain Phoebus. He sagged against his cruel bonds, a broken shell of a man with mangled limbs, crushed ribs and blood-stained hair.
He glanced up, his eyes dull and dispirited as he took in his surroundings with bleak indifference. His ruggedly handsome face was swollen and bruised, his lips - oh, those how she wanted to kiss him! - were cracked and dry through want of moisture...
Suddenly, his eyes brightened and he smiled, revealing a mouthful of shattered teeth. He strained against the chains in a futile attempt to break free, whispering in a hoarse and joyful voice...
"Esmeralda!"
Phoebus!
Tears sprang to Esmeralda's eyes as Phoebus continued to struggle against his bonds, despite the obvious pain it caused him. Smirking, Frollo stepped forward to appraise his former captain's wounds.
"What have you done?" Esmeralda breathed, voice hoarse with grief and horror.
"This is your handiwork, not mine," Frollo replied curtly. He balled his elegant fingers into a fist and slammed it into Phoebus's side. The man slumped forward with a groan and Esmeralda had to fight the impulse to run to him, to put her arms around him and...
"Such a pretty sight," Frollo ruminated, drawing a finger across Phoebus's bruised face, "But not quite as pretty as you, my dear wife." He turned away, advancing upon Esmeralda, who stood her ground, jaw clenched and eyes cold with hatred. He hooked a finger into the bodice of her thin shift and tore it away, exposing her breasts. She did not resist, knowing that to do so would only result in further punishment for the man she loved. Phoebus let out a strangled cry as Frollo ran his hands over Esmeralda's naked torso.
"You see how she submits to me?" Frollo murmured, moving to stand behind Esmeralda in order to watch Phoebus's reaction to the display. The soldier's eyes were blazing with fury, helpless with longing. Frollo continued his ministrations, tweaking Esmeralda's nipples until she hissed. He chuckled, "Responsive, isn't she?"
"You bastard!" Phoebus rasped, bloody spittle running from his lips, "Let her go!"
"I think not," Frollo replied, dragging Esmeralda over to a table in the center of the room. No, not a table, Esmeralda realised dimly, eyes widening as he forced her to bend over, face pressed to the wooden surface.
A rack.
Still, she did not struggle. Frollo did not intend to torture her on this device. Well, he did, she supposed, after a fashion. He would not strap her down, pull her limbs apart, break her bones...but he would rape her and that was torture enough. He was behind her, tearing the remains of her shift from her back. She trained her eyes on Phoebus, hanging on the wall before her, powerless and suffering, and tried to reassure him with a tremulous smile. For you, my love. I will endure this for you.
Frollo twisted his fingers into Esmeralda's hair, forcing her head down as he pressed into her, forcing her open with a brutal thrust. She winced. Phoebus winced too, shaking with rage as Esmeralda's face crumpled, contorted in agony.
"She's mine," Frollo growled, plunging in and out of her, "She'll always be mine."
He leaned forward to sink his teeth into Esmeralda's shoulder, hard enough to score her flesh and draw blood. She shrieked in outrage and pain.
"Do you hear that? Do hear how she screams for me?"
"Stop!" Phoebus roared, tears streaming down his face.
"Oh," Frollo paused, favouring Phoebus with an apologetic smile, "You're feeling neglected, aren't you? So sorry. I got a little caught up in the moment, you see." He pulled out of Esmeralda, holding her down when she tried to flee, "Ah ah, no we're not finished, my darling. I must attend to our guest first and you must be patient." The Minister shook his head, his voice light with amusement as he addressed Phoebus, "You must forgive my wife, she's such a greedy girl. Now..."
Frollo reached into his robes and produced a tiny bell. He rang it, just once, and the door opened. A burly man appeared. He was wearing a black mask, leather breeches and very little else. Frollo's chief torturer and executioner, a sadistic mute named Guerin.
"Thank you for being so prompt, Guerin. Would you be so good as to entertain Captain Phoebus?"
Esmeralda watched in horror as Guerin shed his breeches, revealing a monstrously large cock. Phoebus, realising his intentions, began to buck and writhe in desperation, trying to break his chains.
Frollo chuckled and forced Esmeralda down again, thrusting into her as Guerin began to strip away Phoebus's tattered shirt and hose. She could not tear her eyes away from the ghastly scene unfolding before her, even though her heart was breaking with every passing moment. Guerin spat upon his huge fingers and pushed them into Phoebus with grim resolve. Phoebus screamed, trying to squirm away from the invading digits, but Guerin held him tight around the waist and pressed on. Beads of sweat stood out on Phoebus's brow and his eyes darted around the chamber, looking everywhere and at everything, trying to focus on something, on anything other than the pain. He couldn't look at Esmeralda. He didn't want to see her there, trapped beneath Frollo, her sweet body violated by that demon. He didn't want her to see his own violation at the hands of Frollo's goon but he knew that she would not look away. She was so strong, so beautiful.
I must be strong too, for her sake. I will not cry out. I will not...
He did cry out though, when Guerin finally penetrated him, skewering the soldier like a suckling pig on that grotesque cock.
He screamed.
Frollo laughed cruelly and pulled Esmeralda up by her hair, forcing her to watch. Guerin was ruthless, a relentless machine, fucking Phoebus long after Frollo had finally spent himself. The Minister sat upon a chair before the continuing spectacle and dragged Esmeralda onto his lap, idly toying with her cunt as Phoebus lost consciousness, only to be revived by a slap from Guerin. Pain and shame. That was the soldier's life now, until the moment he died. I'll be dead soon enough, Phoebus reasoned dully. He was right.
"Enough," Frollo finally intoned, pushing Esmeralda from his lap and waving Guerin away, "Finish with him. It is time."
The silent giant spilled within Phoebus and stepped aside. He handed Esmeralda a dagger and moved to stand beside Frollo, just in case she decided to lunge at his master with the deadly blade. Esmeralda stared at the dagger in her hand.
"No. No, I won't do this. I won't do this, do you hear me?"
She was screaming now, sobbing as she realised what Frollo wanted.
"You will," Frollo replied simply, "You will kill him and his death will be quick and clean. If his fate is left to me, I will see to it that the people of this city have nightmares about the execution of Phoebus de Châteaupers for the next hundred years. He will flogged, broken upon the wheel, flayed alive...and you will watch. You will watch him die."
Esmeralda turned away, turned to look into her lover's eyes. She saw pain there. She saw love.
"Do it," Phoebus croaked, "You have to do it."
She shook her head, clutching the dagger in both hands.
"Please...Esmeralda, if you love me...oh God, please..."
She kissed him, tasting blood on his lips, tasting the sweet sigh of his last breath as she slipped the dagger between his ribs and then turned the blade upon herself, plunging it into her breast.
Esmeralda's death had not been part of Frollo's plan. He had decided to keep her, to lock her away as he should have done in the first place. Keep her for himself alone, away from temptation and prying eyes. He'd get her with child perhaps, to quell her fire and force her to be a good wife, a good mother.
She had ruined everything.
Furious at Esmeralda's last act of defiance, Frollo had her corpse tossed into a mass grave, along with that of her whoremongering soldier.
"Let them rot together in the pit."
Quasimodo found them that night, creeping down to the cemetery in the dead of night. He wept over their bodies and carried them back to Notre Dame, mourning his dear friends in the privacy of the belltower. By dawn his grief had turned to rage...
He waited for Frollo, an avenging angel with a heart of stone.