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The Queen of My Heart

Summary: Claude Frollo prepares for Esmeralda’s burning but finds himself unable to attempt such a feat, his heart protesting.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hunchback of Notre Dame or any of its plots and characters. This is simply for entertainment purposes. All rights belong to Disney and Victor Hugo.

Song: The Queen of My Heart by Jetlag Productions on The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Is she real?

This lovely girl who makes me feel this

As though I’ve taken wing and flown away

To another land where she will understand

The words of love I’m trying so hard to say

Frollo sat at his desk in his office, muttering to himself as he ripped off his hat. Rubbing his face with his hands, he let out a scream of frustration. He had finally found the Court of Miracles, finally found where the gypsies had been hiding. After twenty years. He had her in his clutches. He had Esmeralda right where he wanted her. He had the gypsies. He had her and he was going to give her a choice.

He so desperately wanted her to choose him. He wanted her, yearned her… Loved her. He had fought the feeling, pushing it down as if it was her doing and it was though the feelings were fake.

The Minister knew otherwise at this point. He knew and hated but loved the fact. “This gypsy shall be the death of me,” he whispered, growing annoyed as he let out a yell and with a swift movement, he threw all the contents of the desk noisily onto the stone floor.

The judge glared at the fireplace at the other side of the room, watching the flames. A feeling of deja vu consumed him. He could have sworn that he saw a figure moving and dancing gracefully, sinfully in the hearth.

Standing, Frollo went to inspect the flames. The smoke emitting from the flames surrounded him as he clenched his eyes shut, images flashing as he collapsed to his knees, holding himself, sweat rolling down from a combination of the sinful, lustful fantasies that seemed to occur seemingly from nowhere and the fireplace roaring, almost as if it was alive.

As he imagined the fantasies, he knew that there were only two ways to get rid of the thoughts, to finally get peace ever since he saw her at the Festival of Fools.

The way she danced, her body skillfully moving to the sound of the music, her dress that left little to the imagination clung to her, showing off every beautiful curve, every detail. It was utterly enthralling.

A crown had been placed on her beautiful raven hair. The hair he longed to dig his hands into, to feel how soft it was, how smooth, how gorgeous.

Her eyes, her stunning eyes shone brilliantly in the afternoon. They sparkled and he found his own eyes could not leave her. He had been in a trance. She had put him under it and he hadn’t wanted to be pulled from it.

Frollo needed her dead or his. He needed the knowledge that she would never tempt him ever again or forever be there with him. In his arms, there to please him and only him. To love him, to say she loved him, that she loved him and only him, no one else. Especially not the sun god, Phoebus.

He had grown to despise that captain. Well, ex-captain. He didn’t deserve someone as beautiful, as stunning as Esmeralda. No one deserved her. But yet, everyone wanted her, sending a wave of jealousy throughout his body at the vile thought. He needed her and he was absorbed in his thoughts, he had begun to realize that she could not die. His heart simply wouldn’t allow it for it craved her. It craved everything she had to offer. Her body, her love, her everything.

He couldn’t kill her. He didn’t want to. He needed her in bed with him, for her to give herself to him. The fierce possessiveness started to form even brighter than before. It was ablaze in his soul, willing him to think unspeakable thoughts.

Claude Frollo needed to see her. He wanted to beg for her to be his. He wanted her love and he was about to do anything and everything to retain it.

Grasping his hat that laid on the ground, he headed hastily out of the room and down the steps to where she was being held.

As he descended down the stone steps, the cold air hit against him, causing a shiver to run through his body but the lustful thoughts added to the reaction. Passing each cell that held several gypsies each, he ignored the curses thrown at him. He was too focused on his desire to truly notice.

Towards the end of the hallway, a single cell was present. The cell had two guards present on either side. “You are excused,” Frollo directed towards the two curtly. They gave him a swift nod before heading off.

Taking the key that hung from a single hook on the wall, he opened the cell door and entered. Shutting the iron door behind him, he turned around, gazing at the gypsy who laid deadly still on the ground, her arms wrapped around herself. Frollo kneeled down, looking at her in disgust but he felt far from that as he gazed at her beauty.

Esmeralda, you are the queen of my heart

Esmeralda, I hope we’ll never part

It was you

So beautiful, so kind

Are you real or only in my mind?

Frollo noticed how still she was and only from the single torch in the cold, damp room did he catch sight of the blood that pooled around her, staining her white prison dress.

Not being able to help it, fear wrapped its cold and forbidding grip around the judge’s heart as he placed his hand on her cheek, finding it to be freezing.

Turning her onto her back, he checked for that she was breathing and let out a small breath himself of relief when he saw the faint rise and fall of her chest, indicating that she was indeed alive. “Gypsy,” he called out as he started to shake her, worry spreading over him like waves of fire, piercing his heart. “Get up,” he commanded. “Gypsy!”

Pressing the back of his hand against her forehead, he felt the sweat that plastered her raven hair to her neck and forehead. “Esmeralda,” he let out a weak whisper, worry and concern finally consuming him entirely. His heart started to beat painfully in his chest as he gathered the gypsy dancer in his arms.

Her head fell against his shoulder, her intoxicating scent forming forbidding images in his mind. ‘Now’s not the time for this,’ he thought, shoving the sinful fantasies back deep into his mind.

Hurrying down the hallway of the dungeon with Esmeralda in his arms, he realized in the painful moments in which she could potentially be dying right in front of him that he couldn’t live without her.

He wanted her death, wanted to never see her again. His desire would die with her. It would have been destroyed and would have left him like it never happened. It should have been that simple. That’s what his mind told him. His heart suggested otherwise. Why was she so enchanting and why was he the one put underneath his spell?

Finally managing to make it towards his room, he carefully placed the gypsy down, moving a strand of raven hair away from her forehead. His hand lingered in her thick mane for a few moments longer. He couldn’t dwell any longer as he headed out of his room, calling upon a servant.

A fair girl ran over, bowing politely. “Yes, master?”

“Go and fetch a doctor! Quickly! Make haste!” He demanded, his cruel, gray eyes darting between the servant that scurried off to the gypsy laying in his bed.

She had been bleeding but why? He had never commanded torture upon her. He never told the guards to do anything towards her. Noticing some blood coming from the side of the dancer’s mouth, he ran his thumb over it, wiping it away. He stared at the red liquid on his finger before wiping it off on his robes. Even her blood had been so bright.

His gaze remained on her beautiful face before it ran down the length of her body as he attempted to find the wound. The thoughts sprung back up, burning viciously within him. “Why must you torture me so?… Esmeralda.” The name rolled off his tongue easily. It was if it was there for only him to say. Such a gorgeous name for a stunning creature. “Esmeralda,” he tried again, loving the taste of it, loving how it was so easily spoken.

He gathered her in his arms gently, carefully tearing away the cloth from her body. He was not going to fulfil his desires. At least, not yet. He had to know where the bleeding was coming from. Tossing the fabric aside, his eyes hungrily ran down her body, over her bronzed skin, her breasts and her toned stomach. There it was. The wound on her left side.

Moving her slightly, he inspected the wound even more, seeing how deep it was. His hand moved and pressed hard against it, trying to stop the flow. His steel eyes roamed down to her thigh which held the dagger. It had dry and crusted blood on it. Ripping it from her leg, he studied it.

Had she been the reason for the injury? He truly didn’t wish to believe it. He honestly didn’t but he had started to put the pieces to connect as he moved his gaze back to her face. Her eyes that stole his breath every time he looked at them were shut still. When she spoke, his voice was upset, sad and filled with guilt. “You would rather kill yourself than perish at my hand,” he concluded.

The realization sank in much like a knife, destroying him as he thought about it. He never knew that she would have such a strong affection him. He knew how intense his emotions were towards her but now new feelings sprung. Much more than lust and sexual desire. Much more than needing her body and only her body.

He needed her love, her warmth, her kindness. Not the hatred that radiated in her stunning eyes when they fell upon the judge. He had saw the love obvious in her eyes when she looked at that dreaded Sun God, Phoebus and his adopted hunchback of a son, Quasimodo.

Frollo grabbed the dagger, ripping same fabric from the prison gown Esmeralda had on, tearing the cloth and pressing it against the wound. “Where is that blasted doctor?!” He hissed in anticipation, worry spiking tenfold as she seemingly grew colder by the moment. “Esmeralda, for the final time! Awaken!” It was not cruel, not angry but concerned.

For what felt like eternity, there was finally a knock on the door. “Enter,” he called out in a frigid voice. The doctor walked inside, a small smile on his lips that disappeared entirely as he took in the scene. “But sir…” He recognized her. “She is a gypsy!” Surprised at the request as he headed closer. “Sir…” He started, “your hand.”

Realizing what he referring to, he quickly took his hand away that was covered in the thick, red liquid. “Just help her!” He demanded cruelly, causing the doctor to quiver in fear.

“Y-yes. Of course,” he nodded, grabbing several objects from a bag, ranging from needles to bandages and a dark liquid.

As the doctor was starting to get ready, Frollo felt some movement from the girl laying in front of him. Her hand was in his as he couldn’t help but squeeze it to comfort her.

Watching her carefully, her emerald eyes finally opened. They swam with confusion and Claude couldn’t help but feel the guilt spread into him at the fear that became more than evident. “Esmeralda,” he tried, letting go of her dark hand as she abruptly backed away from the judge, practically trembling with fear at this point. “I’m not going to hurt,” he started. “I promise.”

Her gaze shifted to the doctor who started to approach. “Do not be worried,” he addressed towards her, realizing she had regained consciousness. He helped her go on her right side and Frollo tilted her head up gently so she’d look at him. Once again, he took her hand in his, placing a hand on her cheek as the doctor began to work.

She shut her eyes tightly, hissing in pain at a sting of the liquid coming in contact with her wound. It slowly became numb but the pain still lingered and heightened tenfold as the doctor started to stitch up the wound. Frollo winced inwardly as she let out a scream of pain. It was expect but it tortured him more than he thought it would. Hearing her in pain put him in his own.

It seemed to go for hours but only several tortured filled minutes had passed until the young girl could not longer take it. Feeling the dancer fall limp against the bed, her head falling upon the pillow, he clutched her hand harder. “Hurry,” he hissed, glaring daggers at the man.

“I am trying to, Minister,” was the simple response back. “But it is a delicate procedure. I do not want to rush too much for I might disrupt something. Her injury is rather deep and hastening the process might make it worse.”

Not fully hearing him, he kept his attention solely focused on the gypsy laying in front of him. Her face was contorted into one of discomfort even still in the sweet arms of unconsciousness.

Soon, much to Frollo’s relief, the doctor ceased working. “There. That should do it,” he smirked, backing away. “Don’t let her move too much as not to disturb the bandages and keep her rested so she could regain her energy,” he instructed, still more than perplexed as to why Frollo went through all this trouble if she was going to be burnt at the stake the next day. Maybe the judge wanted the satisfaction that she would die by his hands. Maybe he did care for her. Nonetheless, the doctor found himself not wanting to stick around to find out in case the Minister’s foul mood would strike him down. Whatever the reason was, let him be.

Gathering up his supplies, he hastily left, not even asking for payment for he knew better. He would make up the pay in the next few jobs.

Still sitting, his gaze never once faltered from her beautiful face as he found himself wanting more than anything for her to wake up and him adorn her face and body with kisses, his hands ready to ravish her but he knew that she was far from being physically capable of that. He would have to wait. After all, he was a patient man.

But the in the meantime, he slowly got into bed with her, being mindful of her injury as he wrapped his arms around her slender frame, pulling the gypsy girl towards him, her head leaning against his chest.

He sighed contently as he thought about falling asleep every night with her just like that. He would never grow sick or tired of it. How could he? He had a goddess sleeping in his arms, curled up against him and he vowed to both himself and Esmeralda that it would stay that way.

Is love real?

This feeling simply takes my breath away

As though the light of night or bright as day

I’m trying to believe but I’m so afraid you’ll leave

Before you hear the words I’m trying to say

The first thing that the gypsy dancer noticed when she came to were the strong arms wrapped around her protectively. The other was the scent of leather and wine. Her memory was foggy as her mind struggled to fully awake itself from sleep’s warm embrace.

Finally, she managed to see who was holding her for the embrace was gentle and he made her feel safe. Was it Phoebus? No, he had been captured. Quasimodo? No, the figure was too slim. Realization started to dawn on her as she tried so desperately to push it away. 'Please tell me it isn’t who I think it is,’ she thought to herself.

“Ah, gypsy. You are awake. Good,” he greeted her.

Esmeralda scrambled out of the bed, oblivious to her wound as she face flashed with that of pain. Letting out a yelp, she clutched her side, staggering back until she hit a wall, leaning against it. The room was pitch black and since Frollo had been awake the entire time, he sight had adjusted just fine while Esmeralda squinted to see.

As she held her side, she felt linen attached to her, a warm liquid sweeping through. It was sticky and since her memory had yet to fully come back, she was more than confused and startled by the pain and blood that came.

“Do not move, gypsy,” he directed towards her, reaching his hands out for her. She shrank away from him, trying to say something but fear took over. She was weak, tired and she couldn’t fight back even if she wanted or needed to.

She was at a disadvantage from the beginning due to Frollo being much stronger than he appeared. Now she was almost entirely helpless. Unless…. She went to grab the dagger she had attached to her inner thigh, feeling that it was gone. Shuttering at the very thought of being touched by a man like Claud made her even more petrified.

Hearing the footsteps approach but seeing nothing, she started to pull away from him, struggling weakly when he grabbed her arms.

The touch was surprising. It wasn’t cruel, rough or harsh. No. It was gentle, soft… Comforting. How could such a horrendous man as Frollo make her feel safe? “Let go of me,” she hissed, her breathing starting to grow ragged, unsteady.

“I’m not going to hurt you! Stay still!” Claude demanded but the frustration rising in his tone only made her want to struggle more.

Taking a sharp, hissing breath of pain, she felt herself stagger as agony erupted throughout her whole left side. The Minister wrapped his arms protectively around her as he picked her up, carrying her towards the bed. “Now look what you’ve done,” he practically snarled but she said nothing. “Do you have a death wish?!” He demanded, gazing down at her.

Esmeralda hoped that he wouldn’t see her as silent tears began to roll down her cheeks, her body trembling against his. “Why are you doing this?” She asked, just accepting the embrace she was in. “Why did you save me?”

“I couldn’t let you die,” he simply responded. It was the truth, however, not all of it.

“No. You couldn’t have,” she hissed. “You couldn’t let me die? No? You have to be the one to kill me? Have to feel the satisfaction of ending my life by your hands? You couldn’t let me have a death wish?” She snarled, her breathing growing even more erratic than before. “You sick bastard!” She yelled, fury burning wildly in her emerald green eyes. “You sick son of a-!” She refrained as she freely started to sob.

“You kill and torture my people… And yet you go after me filled with lust and sexual desires… Why? Why do you want to torture me so? What did some gypsies do to you that made you hate the whole lot of us? While you ask me why I choose you, you answer me why you choose me! I have done nothing to you, Frollo! I helped someone! I stuck for my people that you injured because one or maybe a couple did something! But guess what?! Not all gypsies are like you perceive, 'Minister’,” she bit out. “Hell, barely any of them are! So just end your quarrel with me! Please!” She sobbed. “What did I do to make you hate me?! What did I do to make you despise me?!”

The judge stared at the girl in his arms, shocked by the speech as he set her down. “I don’t hate you, Esmeralda. I love you!”

Esmeralda, you are the queen of my heart

Esmeralda, I hope we’ll never part

It was you

So beautiful, so kind

Are you real or only in my mind?

“You… What?”

“I love you,” he ground out. “As much as I desperately tried to shove the feelings down, burn them away, I can’t help it! If I could, I wouldn’t be going through all of this. I wouldn’t have spent only Lord knows how many hours thinking about you. Your eyes, your hair, your voice. ANd the way you torture me when you dance! Yes, I was more than angered when you publicly humiliated me! You had teased me and now…” He chortled. “You torture me. You’re bringing my soul to Satan himself but I no longer care. I want you and I need you, Esmeralda.”

As her gaze finally adjusted to the darkness, she laughed in disbelief. “You were going to burn me at the stake!” She accused. “After, you were going to burn and kill the rest of my people! And you’re just going to expect me to believe you when you say you love me?! You’re delusional!” She hissed. “You’re crazy, sick… Twisted and… You!” She slammed her fists weakly against his chest as he came closer, trapping her between him and the bed. “Get away from me…” She demanded, slowly getting off of the bed and pulling her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “You sick bastard… You sick son of a bitch,” she snarled, defeat evident in her voice.

She didn’t know what to do anymore… What to think. What to believe. It was all too much. Too much to take in. She became dizzy, disorientated as she tried to process the information. Watching as the blood rushed from her face, he hastily ran over, kneeling down in front of her and not caring that his cold exterior fell. His main concern was her well-being. Placing the back of his hand against her forehead, he felt a slight fever starting to form.

Grasping his arm in her firm yet weak grasp, she shoved him away, not comfortable with the contact. It was sickening, causing her stomach to turn as she swallowed back the fluids that were lodged in her throat from her stomach. “Stay away from me,” she demanded, her voice dripping with poison and venom. “Don’t you dare touch me. Just because I’m here give you no right to lay your hands on me.”

Frollo felt anger and frustration flair deep inside of him from her stubbornness. “Pour l'amour de Maria” he sighed, exasperated. “You are burning with a fever!”

“And what does it matter, Minister?!” She hissed. “I’m going to burn at the stake tomorrow. Might as well just quicken the process, no? Help you with it so you don’t have to wait that long for my death.”

“I’m not going to burn you,” he finally relented. “As much as I despise, I love you the same amount. As much as I want you dead, I need you alive. I…” He inwardly grimaced at the thought of her being reduced to nothing but ashes. The once beautiful gypsy becoming ugly, bland ashes was frightening, terrifying him more than he thought was possible.

“You… What?” She urged him to continue, utterly confused and worried as to what he was going to say next.

“I want you as much as I need you! You’re not leaving, Esmeralda.”

“You can’t just keep me,” she desperately tried to reason but it was a lost cause for she knew that he was mad. He wouldn’t register anything sane. He was far from it. It was evident and scary. She braced herself as if he would lash out like had done other times. The man was unstable, bipolar. He had inner struggles that somehow found its way into the outside world, affecting his behavior drastically.

“How about a deal?” He started, his voice oddly calm. She knew that danger was apparent nearby, lurking behind his voice. It was only a matter of time until he snapped.

“A… Deal?” She inquired, confused on what he meant by that.

“Well, you knew what my intentions were towards your people after you died,” he continued pleasantly. Esmeralda felt a shiver of dread course through her at the horrendous thought. “Your life in exchange of their freedom.”

“What do you mean, my life in exchange of their freedom?”

“I mean you chose to stay with me,” he said, walking over and running a finger on her jaw.

The gypsy dancer backed away in disgust. “Don’t touch me,” she stood rigid, her breathing becoming quick and unsteady once again.

“Think what you want to do. My dear. But at the strike of the next hour, you will have had to made your decision. Live with me and I let your people go. Refuse and you will die with them,” he explained before nodding curtly and leaving without another word, locking the dancer in from the outside.

Pacing back and forth relentlessly, she kept her arms around her waist as she contemplated her decision. “Death or torture. Death or torture,” she kept muttering to herself. She felt that she would have instantly chosen death but that included her people being slaughter, not just her. But death seemed much more welcoming, much more pleasant than living with the dread thing that dared to call himself a man of God. 'More like man of the Devil,’ she sourly thought.

Nausea threatened to form again, the rising acids burning her throat and this time, she did not hold back. Lurching, she fell to her knees as they collided painfully with the wooden floor. She could have sworn that she broke them but she ignored it, the pain in her stomach far too great.

She released only water for she had not eaten since her last meal which was a day ago. Her stomach rolled and rumbled agonizingly, tears springing up in the green orbs of hers. “That bastard,” she muttered tiredly as she leaned against the cold, dull brick of the fireplace. “That sick, twisted son of a fucking bitch…” Her eyes fell closed as she swallowed down the fluids, trying to surpass the nausea forming once more.

“Death or tortured,” she sighed as she attempted to wrap her head around the events of the last couple of days. “Torture,” she finally decided. She would have happily died but her people would follow. They didn’t deserve that.

For over the course of twenty years, her people were being slaughtered. Sht didn’t want it to continue. She would stay with him but only under two conditions. Collapsing under exhaustion, she curled up close to the fireplace, relishing the warmth from the bitter cold from outside.

It felt nice since she was so accustomed to bundling up in the streets with her goat, Djali, desperately trying to keep warm or running from the guards. Even when she went home to the Court of Miracles, it was still considerably frigid.

Her bare arms were lined with goosebumps, the thin material doing little to keep her warm. She shivered against the stone wall, her mind and thoughts fuzzy from the stress. If she continued like this, she would most likely pass out from a headache.

The sickness finally subsiding from her stomach gave her temporary relief. It was, however, short lived for a striking pain erupted near her temple, dealing indescribable amounts of pain. Holding her head, she doubled over.

She was barely aware of the door opening and a dark figure kneeling down to her and placing two fingers underneath her chin and lifting it so she’d look at him.

The gypsy’s eyes remained closed as her face contorted into one of pure agony. Her head throbbed mercilessly and beyond her control, tears sprung within the two striking eyes, the warm liquid flowing down quietly as her body shook with silent sobs. “Why?” Was all she asked. She sucked in a deep breath. “Why?” Her voice shattered as it broke along with Frollo’s heart. He kept a cold and collected exterior however, determined not to let any emotion slip through his facade. He had done it before and he couldn’t let it happen again.

“Have you made your decision?” Was all he demanded. She glared at him. Apparently that was the only crucial thing at the moment. Nothing actually concerning her health. Only what he desired. It was infuriating, only supporting her opinion of him even more. He was cruel, selfish and crazy. And yet he perceived himself as a man of God. Esmeralda still had much difficulty wrapping her mind around that. He was truly disturbed and she couldn’t help but be mortified by him.

The sash that was attached to his hat flowed down his back, swaying as he stood, glaring her down with his unfeeling granite eyes. “Yes,” she finally answered, “I’ve made my decision. I’ll stay with you.”

Esmeralda watched as his expression shifted, seeing genuine happiness and relief? Was that the word for it? His cold mask slipped back on within a second as he appeared normal again.

'I’ll stay with you under two conditions. You release everyone. All of my people including Phoebus and Quasimodo. And…" She took in a deep breath. “And under the condition that you do not harm my people. They are to be treated as any other citizen in Paris. Understood? I promise to stay but if you back down on your promise, I will go back on mine. So…” She sighed. “Is it a deal?”

I never thought that love would come to me

Imprisoned in this body

My heart longs to be free

Could it back she holds the key?

Frollo was taken aback by her demands even though he refused to show the effect she truly had on him by demanding such a thing. 'And without fear,’ he added to himself. Her fiery spirit and determination was what he admired about her. What he fell in love with. Well, that and her body.

“Do we have a deal?” She asked again, her voice sharper than before.

Twenty years. Twenty years of trying to find the gypsy’s cavern, the Court of Miracles. He had finally discovered it and he was about to kill every single damned gypsy that set foot in Paris but he had to give it up if he wanted her. It was tempting to say no, to kill the dancer where she stood. Surely she would be an easy kill by how weak she was. But he could barely find himself to even think about it, nonetheless, follow through with it.

“Deal. You drive a hard bargain, my dear, but it was a deal nonetheless,” he nodded. “You will be expected to remain in my quarters as I release everyone. Do not even begin to think of escape or I will kill everyone. Everyone of those dread demons of Satan,” he threatened.

“Wait,” Esmeralda stopped him. Fear clutched his heart at the thought of her going back and saying she would rather die. “Do not touch me without my consent. Do not try anything for it will not be pleasant for any of us. Understood?” She hissed.

“Of course,” he nodded, a scowl forming upon his lips. “Now… If you’d excuse me…” He excused himself and left without another word.

Two guards entered and grabbed her arms, leading her to the room. She couldn’t leave if she wanted to, still weak. They practically dragged her towards his chambers and Esmeralda didn’t struggle. She was only doing it so her people would be free and unharmed. They shoved her into the room and she stumbled, the door slamming shut and causing her to jolt slightly in surprise. She heard the door click and groaned as she held her head in her hands. She was starting to regret her decision, dread growing in her stomach as she felt sick all over again.

She slowly slid down the wall, trying to think what the future would bring. She desperately hoped that Frollo wouldn’t live too long. The thought of living most of her life with him wasn’t something particularly pleasant to her.

A half hour had passed before Esmeralda heard the door click, indicating someone was unlocking it. She was half in and half out of consciousness, the events of the day crashing down upon her and wearing her down physically, mentally, and emotionally.

“Esmeralda,” was a familiar voice that rang clear in her head. She felt strong arms lift her, the cold, thin hands causing a shiver to run through her. Not being able to help it entirely, she rested her head against velvet.

'Him,’ she thought sourly. She was too tired to say anything as she was placed on the bed, the Minister getting in with her and wrapping his arms around her waist as he closed the space between them.

“I freed the gypsies. As well as Quasimodo and….” He snarled in disgust at the next name. “Phoebus.”

Esmeralda felt herself relax at the new information, letting out on exhausted, “thank you” before drifting into sleep.

Claude smiled contently, loving having her in his arms. He couldn’t be happier. He had her in his arms. “At last,” he sighed. “At last you are mine.” He thought about the future for them and he couldn’t help the hope rising in his chest. “Vous avez volé mon coeur. Vous en êtes propriétaire… Esmeralda… Mon amour… Mon coeur… Mon âme… ” He felt sleep starting to come to him easily for the first time in so long all because of the girl in his arms. “Je vous donne mon coeur pour toujours.”

Esmeralda, you are the queen of my heart

Esmeralda, I hope we’ll never part

It was you

So beautiful, so kind

Are you real or only in my mind?

To Be Continued?

A/N: Let me know how you enjoyed this oneshot and let me know if you want this story to be continued. Thank you for reading!

#fresme hunchbackofnotredame frolloxesmeralda

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