Part I: The Purge
La Esmeralda was back- in one of the horrible prisons she was thrust in after her trial. Where it was so dark you couldn't distinguish light from day, where the ground was a pool of water that dripped gradually from the ceiling, where there was no connection to the outside world except the jailer throwing in bread and refilling a pitcher of water twice a day. Why had he put her there, she didn't know.
Maybe because it was right under the Palace of Justice, so he could visit her anytime he wanted. She shuddered at the thought. Did he plan on keeping her here for the rest of her life? If so, then perhaps death wasn't so bad after all.
The man who had taken her to the gallows, Tristan the Hermit as he called himself, had patted her on the shoulder after Frollo ordered the cancellation of her execution. 'You should thank the judge for his generosity daughter', he had said. Little did he know, she thought, on what condition that generosity had emerged.
She wondered where her mother was. For her whole life Gudule had harassed every Romani she had seen, and she seemed to have a particular hatred towards Esmeralda. But this morning they had come to face with a shocking fact- Esmeralda was her long-lost daughter Agnes. She had lacked a maternal figure her whole life, and knowing her origins meant the world to her.
She wondered where Clopin was, and whether he was even alive. For all their disagreements she knew that he adored her. She might have lacked a maternal figure, but Clopin made up for her lack of father. She also knew of the unsaid war Frollo had declared on her people, which went all out last night when they tried to siege Notre-Dame and rescue her.
She thought about Gringoire. She had saved him from getting hanged by marrying him. And what had he done? Stole her goat and left her at the mercy of Frollo. And Phoebus. Her Phoebus. The man for whom she gave her life. The world said that he just wanted to use her, she ignored the world. He could save her from all this if he had just said some words- "she is innocent". But he didn't. The only man who had been devoted to her was, as strange as it seemed, the hunchbacked bell-ringer, Quasimodo. She had shown pity to the poor thing when he was being publicly humiliated, and he seemed determined to more than making up for it.
Esmeralda was lost in these thoughts for the day. It was only at night when the light of a lamp entered the cell. Claude Frollo entered, looking old and dishevelled without his hat. For a few seconds they just stared at each other, both overcome with strong emotions.
"I will have you. You shall not have me as a slave, you shall have me as a master. You shall be mine- the judge's, the apostate's, the assassin's!" she remembered his words from the past night. The infernal look on his face as he said that.
Frollo broke the silence, 'I am glad that you changed your mind'. She said nothing. 'I know that you hate me', he continued. 'I know that you have suffered a lot for a fragile creature like you. But I assure you; you have made the right choice. You are a Bohemian, but I am sure God will forgive you.'
She was astonished by the level of self-righteousness this man had. He spoke further, 'You should know that the king of gypsies, Clopin, died last night. So did a good amount of your kind. The rest have been executed today, or will soon be. We are searching for the some who escaped, and we will find them.'
She boiled inside.
'You are but an immature child', he continued. 'You can't be blamed for living outside the normal order like you do. But now, you must learn to be civilised. It will be hypocritical of me to keep you as my mistress as you are while asking the Parisians to not hold any sentiment for the gypsies. You must allow me to save your soul. I love you, so I will guide you. See this misery as a catalyst for going on the path of God.'
'What on earth do you want me to do?' she bellowed finally. 'You think you are so holy, don't you? Well, you have got the blood of a race on your hands!'
'Yes!' he said gleefully, which made her recoil.
'Jeer at me, curse me, torment me, but love me!', he said, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. She froze. What could she do now? She had agreed to be his. She felt being pushed against the wall, those burning lips on her again, and then-
'Sir! You are needed urgently!' a guard called out from outside. Frollo stopped and turned towards the door.
'Didn't I make it clear that I don't want to be disturbed?'
'Forgive me, minister. But it is the King.'