A/N: Final Chapter! I couldn't resist but to make one of those 20 years later thing, just felt it will give a better closure to the story.

I want to thank you again for your amazing reviews that have really kept this story going, let me know what you think about the last 2 chapters :)

EPILOGUE

22 YEARS LATER…

"Madame, I would like to express my sincerest condolences to you. At a time of such hardship I can only imagine the pains and problems a young widow such as yourself must have endured to bring the body of her deceased husband to the Notre- Dame Cathedral."

"Your sympathies are much appreciated, Archdeacon Benoit. But I beg of you to address me as Mademoiselle Esmeralda- the life that I have shared with my deceased beloved has never been blessed by your Church and I cannot be even called now a widow."

"I beg your pardon then," the priest responded somewhat disapprovingly at the gypsy's blunt words, "I was left with a different impression from the arrangements we have made before your arrival here."

"You have been more than cooperative and supportive in all the arrangements for the funeral and I would like to express my gratitude in a modest gift to your cathedral," Esmeralda said with a cold and monotonous voice as she handed the priest a coin purse.

As the Archdeacon received it he promptly opened it as his eyes blazed with greed.

"That is more than generous of you," he exclaimed with a renewed tone of forced courteous respect as he then added: "You are indeed a kind and virtuous woman, Mademoiselle."

Esmeralda slightly smiled at this assertion. After all this time she had learned all too well that everything that virtue needs is money. She had quickly discovered that the best medication against intolerance was money. It was simple really -the color of her skin, her religious and life choices were irrelevant once a coin purse was handed out.

"Shall I assume then that my status is no longer a problem to our arrangements for the funeral," the gypsy asked with a slight note of mockery in her still cold and indifferent voice.

"But Mademoiselle, I would never dare to judge a noble and humble woman such as yourself," the priest said in a sleazy politeness. Holding tightly the given purse close to himself he turned away as he noticed one of the other priests to signal him. "I wish to assure you that personally I will undertake the arrangements for the funeral tomorrow. Mademoiselle, please excuse me now, but I must leave you to prepare for the evening prayer. Of course you are more than welcome to stay during it."

"I do not wish to take more of your time today, Archdeacon. I thank you but I must decline your gracious offer to stay during your service. I will take my leave from you now but I hope to see you tomorrow morning" the gypsy replied with the same indifferent voice.

The priest just nodded and left the presence of the gypsy. She vacantly watched him leave as her mind was somewhere else. After all these years nothing seemed to have changed in the cathedral. She looked at the staircase near the entrance and she suddenly wondered what had become of Quasimodo's place at the attic of the tower. This thought felt heavy on her chest as she realized how long it has been not thinking of him… In fact she had not really given much thought for anything in Paris ever since she had left it more than twenty years ago. And now after all this time all these strange and distant emotions from her younger years seem to be returning in her heart with the return in the city…

"Esmeralda…" she suddenly heard an oddly familiar voice to call her name. She turned as her green eyes met the man who was calling her. "I cannot believe it, is that really you," a tall man in his late forties said as he approached the gypsy.

"Phoebus…" she returned, otherwise completely speechless.

Phoebus stood in front of her as the lack of speech gave them both the opportunity to take a better look at each other. It had been so many years but the former captain unmistakably was able to recognize her. She looked so much different now and yet her beauty was still as present to him as it had been 22 years ago. Esmeralda was wearing a heavy, black dress with a tight corset that was well underlying her feminine and still exquisitely beautiful figure. The many little dark embroideries and layers to the dress as well as on the black gloves she was wearing were all revealing the expensive and high class nature of her attire. The gypsy's voluminous raven hair had not changed with time, but it was now all gathered and neatly arranged in a sophisticated hairstyle that was so unlike her. From head to feet she seemed completely transformed into a high rank woman and it seemed that time had left only her dark skin as a reminder of her youthful gypsy years.

The years apart were well reflected on the older and somewhat exhausted face of the former captain. His golden hair that was once the object of admiration and fascination from the many maiden hearts in his youth had long ago lost its luster and it was now thinned- out and mostly gray. His eyes had many wrinkles around them, however his look was still warm and his smile was still succeeding in bringing some kind of odd comfort into the gypsy. Phoebus was wearing his captain armor with which the gypsy had seen him so many times before which finally gave her the reason to break up the serene silence they had established among them.

"You are wearing your armor… I don't understand… when did you return back in Paris," Esmeralda started out as she frequently interrupted her own questions wondering which one to ask him first. It was truly remarkable that even after all the years that had passed between them she still felt like nothing more but a damsel in distress in his presence.

"Yes… I am a captain now… again," Phoebus started as he seemed at lost for words, too. "I got my career back in track in the countryside and 14 years ago I was called back in service to the city… As I found out Paris easily forgets- it was as if nothing has happened…" the captain briefly explained as he tried as much as he could to stay away from the painful topics that had made him leave the city at first place.

He stopped as he gazed upon her quietly then sighed in an awkward smile "I still can't believe that it's you- you look so beautiful…"

Esmeralda responded with a modest smile as her green eyes were caught in his for a brief moment and then she looked away. With the passing years it seemed as if her emotional and wild character had been calmed down and was now exchanged with some kind of graceful serenity. However, on her face one could clearly read sorrow and grief.

Phoebus looked away as well as he cleared out his throat awkwardly, realizing that his last remark had made her uncomfortable. After all those years he was surprised to find out that his feelings for her had not changed and naturally his mind was burning to ask what had happened with the man for whom she had left him. The captain had quickly learned out even before his arrival that minister Frollo was no longer in Paris and he had resigned all his titles and properties in the city shortly after Phoebus himself had left Paris. But the captain had never heard anything more neither about the minister nor about the gypsy.

"What about you, Esmeralda," he asked in a lighter tone after a moment of silence as he attempted to sound casual, "how have you been the past years?"

"I have been good, thank you…" the gypsy returned somewhat vaguely as her green eyes stared back at him and she forced a polite smile.

The least thing that Esmeralda wanted right now was to share her life story with a man who she had never expected to meet again, and yet she found some kind of odd comfort in seeing him at that moment. Consumed in her own reflections she neglected to notice the approaching steps behind her. A light hand was placed on her shoulder which snapped her out of her thoughts and made her turn around.

"Madeleine, I told you to wait in the carriage outside," Esmeralda said in a soft voice as she gently took the hand of the girl in her hands.

"I apologize, mother, but I couldn't wait to visit the place that father spoke so often about."

Phoebus looked with surprise to the girl who had suddenly joined them. She seemed no older than 15, and yet her stature and the way she was behaving reminded to much more mature and sophisticated woman. She was with a head shorter than Esmeralda and somewhat thinner than her, but aside from that her physique and her clothes were very similar to the gypsy woman. Madeline's hair was as well alike the other woman, as it was big and raven black, but much longer and falling freely to her waist. Her hair and dark eyes were sharply contrasting with her relatively fair skin. The young girl's beauty was very different from Esmeralda's, as the former had what one may consider as more refined and aristocratic looks while the later was enthralling with more exotic and feminine features.

"Mother?" Phoebus repeated to Esmeralda after he had taken a few passive moments to examine the girl.

Esmeralda turned to the captain somewhat startled as if she had completely forgotten about him, as she spoke to the girl with gentle tone:

"Madeline, my darling daughter, this is captain Phoebus de Chateaupers, he was a dear friend of mine when I was living in Paris back in my youth."

For the first time since she had arrived the girl quickly examined the man with a look of superiority that felt awfully familiar to the captain, but when she spoke her words sounded kind and genuine:

"It gives me a great delight to meet you, captain de Chateaupers. I have had only rare opportunities to meet friends of my mother's from her past and I am greatly pleased for this chance."

"The pleasure is all mine, Mademoiselle…"

"Frollo," the girl responded, "Madeline Frollo is my name, captain."

Phoebus raised his eyebrows in bewilderment as he looked at Esmeralda.

"You are Frollo's daughter," the captain pronounced in a tone that implied more a question of disbelief than a statement; and it also seemed that this question was directed more towards the older woman as his eyes were still turned towards the gypsy. Esmeralda turned her eyes away from her daughter as she barely but confidently nodded "yes" to Phoebus' question.

"Captain de Chateaupers, have you known my dear father as well?" the young girl asked, as she crossed herself and added, "may his soul rest at peace."

"…rest at peace?" the captain repeated as he looked back at the gypsy. "Is he dead?"

Madeline glanced quickly at her mother surprised to learn that the captain knew nothing about her father's dead. The girl had assumed that her mother had been talking about that to the captain before she interrupted them. Esmeralda's expression had changed almost undetectably by the captain's question but it was enough for Madeline to understand that the question had overwhelmed her mother as the daughter hurried to respond.

"My apologies, captain, I assumed you have already been informed…My much-loved father, may God bless his soul, passed on two days ago. My mother's and my grief is immeasurable, but perhaps it brings me only slight comfort to know that his body will rest in eternity near the cathedral of Our Holy Mother. The mass and the funeral are tomorrow if you would like to attend…"

"Madeline, dear," the gypsy softly interrupted the girl as she stretched her arm across her back and embraced her gently, "I am sure that the captain has duties to attend to."

One look of Esmeralda was enough to inform Phoebus that the gypsy did not wish to explain anything further to her daughter for why the presence of the captain would be so inappropriate at the funeral.

"Your mother is right," he said after a brief moment of silence. "And besides, I may have served under minister Frollo's authority but I don't think I've ever known the man you call your father," he added politely but with some note of irony. The captain's stare was set on Esmeralda as if closely examining her expression.

Esmeralda had been with Frollo all those years? They had raised a child together? He had died a beloved father, and what else… a husband? That didn't make sense to the captain one bit. Somewhere deep in him he had always expected to return back in Paris one day and to see the gypsy alone and admitting to the captain that he was right all along… In the first years he had left Paris he had even hoped for the gypsy to come to him and desire nothing more from the soldier but to leave his wife and infant child for her… But years had faded away those wishes along with the image of the girl. The little memory he had had left for her by the time he had returned to Paris seemed to have vanished away with her absence from the city. The captain had forgotten his feelings for her as well as he had forgotten and replaced her with more convenient and less effortful means of satisfaction. But now her appearance here brought fresh the memories of their last time together and the circumstances that had lead to it.

"Excuse me, father, mother requires to know if you are going to join us at all for the evening prayer."

The familiar voice snapped out Phoebus from his thoughts as he was reminded why he had come to the cathedral at first place. He turned as he saw his son at his side.

"Her words, not mine," the young man added lightheartedly in a lower voice.

"Yes, of course," Phoebus started as he cleared his throat and looked guiltily towards Esmeralda as if he was caught in the act of cheating. "Patrick, tell your mother that I will be right there…"

It was obvious that the captain was caring more for what the gypsy woman would think of him than for the opinions of his wife. The years had not only faded away the memories of the soldier for the gypsy, but they had as well faded away the jealousy and any other emotion Fleur-de-Lys had for the man she called her husband. It had been very difficult for her to accept him back more than twenty years ago when he had publically made clear that he cared more for a gypsy than his wife, but Fleur-de-Lys was a practical woman. She had figured that stripped from his titles and cheating husband in the countryside is still better compared with the alternative of her remaining in the city pregnant with no husband. She had even hoped for a new start outside the city, but her husband's drinking and multiple affairs which he had not cared to even hide from her had proven to Fleur-de-Lys that the only way she could avoid the shame from a scandal was to avoid her own marriage. She had always insisted for them to come back in the city (out of some nostalgic memory of it); and by the time it had happened the married couple shared nothing more but the upbringing of their only child.

Nevertheless, even though Fleur-de-Lys had given up long time ago the privilege to care for her husband's affairs the site of him with the woman she had clearly recognized as the single cause of all her husband's vices had made the married woman surprisingly upset. At that point of alienation from the captain it would have been more than unreasonable for her to go there, so she had sent instead the only thing that was still connecting her with her husband- Patrick.

Patrick was just slightly shorter than his father, with fair skin and dark blonde hair in messy curls after his mother's hair. His eyes too were after his mother's as they were blue in color, but had something soothing, yet mischievous in them both of which he had inherited from his father. He had let his beard grow just enough to cover his face, but not enough to actually be called a beard. His stature was similar to his father, yet youthful and rather leaner. His clothes were of a civilian (unlike his father's captain uniform) and even though they seemed expensive and rich the way the man was wearing them were making him look somewhat relaxed, loose and casual.

Patrick was just about to leave the presence of Phoebus and the two women to send the "message" from his father to his mother as he took a second glance towards the younger woman and leered mischievously.

"By our Lady, I did not expect to see such a pleasing little site in a place like this," the young man said to Madeline, reaching to kiss her hand as a gesture of admiration.

The girl withdrew her hand before the young man could have the chance to take it. She looked at him with the same stare of superiority that Phoebus had seen in her when they were first introduced a couple of minutes ago.

"Pardon me, Monsieur, but I seem incapable to recognize how your words can be taken as flattery, if intended at all as such, as at the same time they sacrilege the name of Our Holy mother and suggest disrespect to Her place of worship."

Patrick just looked at her idiotically as if she was speaking a language which he had never heard before.

"Spoken like a true Frollo," Phoebus observed aloud. "No doubt you are his daughter."

Madeline turned towards the older man with unchanging stare.

"Has there ever been a doubt, captain?"

The soldier looked at Esmeralda whose expression had not seemed to change, and yet there was a dose of agreeable pride somehow added to it.

"No," he said as he turned towards the younger girl, "not even the slightest one." Phoebus stared at her for a moment of the second as he added: "Now, if you excuse me ladies, there is a wife waiting for me to pray."

The words were followed by an awkward smile and a slight bend of respect towards the two women. Then, Phoebus urged his son to go backwards as the two men left the presence of the women in black.

THE NEXT DAY seemed to have come very fast for Esmeralda and before she could gather her thoughts she found herself at a freshly made grave with a wooden cross on it. It was finally over… The past couple of days seemed to have been a bleak fog in which the gypsy had decided to shut down all her emotions that were building up beneath the surface. Instead, she numbed her pain with a list of things she had to do for the funeral, following them automatically and bluntly. But now it was all over and with nothing left to worry about she had for the first time since Frollo had passed away time to stop and think about it… She was alone- the gravediggers had done their job and had left; the priest had said the prayers for which he was paid and had left shortly after that; her daughter, Madeline, had prayed with the priest over her father's grave and then had left to continue praying for his soul in the Notre Dame cathedral. Esmeralda had let her child go in the church, but she had stayed behind. The mother and the daughter had many common interests but religion was certainly not one of them…

Even after all that had happed nearly 22 years ago Frollo had remained a devoted and true catholic to the Church's traditions and practices. His passion to the religious ways had been passed on to his daughter, who he had alone undertaken the task to raise as a dutiful and virtuous Christian woman.

It had had to be that way as Frollo simply could not have respected his own self without his faith, but of course his devotion to the Church had had its limit- Esmeralda. The former minister had known that his life could not exist without religion, but he had made it clear to the gypsy that he could not exist without her as well. Those two worlds had remained separate throughout all those years and even though he had insisted that his daughter be raised a Christian the minute she had been born he had never made such an offer towards her mother. It had not been because he had perceived the gypsy as something opposite to his belief. It had rather been because he had always regretted his past mistakes with Esmeralda and he had somehow believed that they had been partially because his affections towards her had been wrongly interoperated through his religious ways…

Nonetheless, in his life after he had left Paris Frollo had found balance in his love towards the gypsy and his devotion towards the Church by completely separating one from the other. Esmeralda had never objected to that decision as somehow he had made it work and he had as well always honored and cherished his beloved gypsy, bringing her only happiness and joy just as he had promised her the day they had decided to leave the city. Of course the separation of those two worlds had not always been that clear, especially with the fact that their love had never been blessed by the Church and as consequences a question of the legitimacy of Frollo's daughter followed, however those problems had been easily set aside once one had the means for it. And for great surprise to the gypsy after leaving Paris with Frollo she had discovered that even without his career as a minister he had had plenty of wealth and resources to assure their economic happiness for more than a lifetime.

Esmeralda collapsed on her knees as her arms gently touched the ground, making her fingers sink into the freshly dug dirt. A few hot tears rolled over her cheek and dropped over the grave as she closed her eyes and sighed bitterly. She had truly loved him, as she seemed to have just now realized that after she had left Paris with him she had never regretted that decision…

"He's really gone, isn't he?"

The voice which broke the serene silence of the graveyard startled Esmeralda as she turned around to see who it was. Phoebus was standing a few feet away from her as his eyes were set down to the still kneeling on the ground woman.

"What are you doing here," the gypsy started in a mixture of confused, blunt, and somewhat upset voice.

She started to get up as Phoebus offered her a hand, which she accepted and pretty soon she found herself closer to him than she wished for. The gypsy pushed herself away a few steps as she attempted to dust off the dirt that had stuck to her skirt.

"I waited until everybody left- I was hoping to speak with you alone," the captain returned bluntly as he observed her every motion.

She was wearing a different dress from the one he had seen her the previous day in the cathedral. That one was as well black and heavy, but it had silver linings that were delicately running all over the black flowers on her corset as well as along the ends of her sleeves and skirt. Her hair was pulled up as the day before, but a few curls had escaped their places, as just the slight disorder in her voluminous hair seemed to immediately direct Phoebus' attention to her exotic and untamed beauty. Yes, she was as beautiful as he had remembered her; even though all in black and covered in multiple layers of fabric her curvaceous feminine forms were still well perceived by the soldier.

"What would you like us to talk about," the woman asked in a somewhat distant voice.

The captain slightly smiled as he added:

"You sound so different than before- like a true noble woman."

Esmeralda did not respond to his comment, which made Phoebus make another awkward smile. He approached her in a few steps as he stopped still leaving some respectable distance between them. The captain's warm brown eyes met Esmeralda's as he started more seriously now:

"Yesterday was like an awakening for me… It was as if I have spent the last twenty years of my life in a circle of pretences, which has been broken up the minute I saw you in the cathedral." The gypsy turned her eyes away in reserve, but the soldier just advanced a step further to her and continued: "Do you remember the first time we spoke? It was in the cathedral, probably not more than several feet away from where you were standing yesterday. Seeing you have brought bright and clear all those memories we have shared and I was ready to tell you all that yesterday if we were not interrupted by…"

"By my daughter," Esmeralda finished the captain's thought as he stopped and looked at her piercing green eyes and then sighed heavily.

"Look, I know you have had a life in all those years we haven't seen each other and I respect that… But now it could be probably our chance- I realized it from the moment I saw you that my feelings for you have not changed one bit since the last time I have seen you and now when you are free…"

"Free?" The gypsy asked as she abruptly interrupted the captain. Her voice was calm and steady, but her words were enough to suggest that the soldier's words were upsetting her: "When have I been a prisoner to be called a free person now?"

"I didn't mean that…"

"I am aware of what you meant, but after all the time it has passed it seems to me, captain, that you are still perceiving me as nothing more than a damsel that needs saving. I can assure you that I am neither a damsel nor am I in need of yours or any other's assistance."

"Esmeralda, I can see that," Phoebus said as he advanced another small step towards her. "My apologies if my words have upset you but trust me when I tell you that I have never thought of you as needing anyone's help… Your strength is one of the things that I truly admire about you, and I have certainly not come here to undermine it…"

"What have you intended to come here for then?" she asked as her voice was becoming less steady. Her green eyes pierced his as she felt her stare burning with tears but she fought them from spilling out. "Did you come here then to offer yourself as my lover over the fresh grave of my former one?"

"Esmeralda…" the captain started but at loss of words he just reached to her and soothingly put his hands over her shoulders. "I never meant any disrespect for you…"

The many suppressed emotions of the gypsy were like sea waves which were violently hitting at the rocks of the coast which were restraining them. Everything suddenly became too overwhelming for the woman who had been successfully managing so far to silence her sorrow, but not anymore… She burst into tears as she stood numb before the soldier who had stretched his arms towards her. Surprised at her reaction at first, the captain suddenly came closer and embraced her soothingly.

Her burst of cries did not last very long, but she remained silently whipping at the soldier's shoulder after that.

"You really loved him, didn't you," Phoebus observed as if just now he had actually considered that possibility.

"I truly did..." the woman confirmed, as slowly she pushed herself away from the captain's embrace.

Esmeralda wiped away the tears from her face with her palms and fingers, as she tried to gather herself. She looked at Frollo's grave as she sighed misfortunately.

"Who would have thought on the day he put me to burn on the pyre that I will be mourning his death today… He changed so much because he believed that his love for me was his only virtue, his last one… I loved him so much but I never got the chance to tell him that I forgive him… I truly do; the years we have shared have been the happiest time of my life and have made all his actions before them fade away and lose any significance…"

Esmeralda's voice started to tremble as she stopped before bursting into tears again.

"I am sorry… for everything, Esmeralda…" the captain said after a moment of silence between them, as his words sounded sincere.

The gypsy separated her eyes from the grave as she looked again at the captain.

"Thank you…" she managed to say with a calmer voice.

"If you ever need anything know that I will always be there for you… always."

"I really appreciate that, Phoebus, I really do… But you should know that I stand behind the decision that I made 22 years ago- you and I don't share the same path and I don't believe that will change…"

Phoebus was silent for a moment, but then said with calm and confident voice:

"I respect you too much to insist any further, but despite of everything you should know that I will always be there for you in whatever way you want me to."

Esmeralda barely smiled in gratitude as she turned again towards the freshly made grave.

"Thank you for your kind words, but if you excuse me, I would like to be left alone now…" the gypsy said in a soft and genuine voice as the captain nodded and left her presence.

"MOTHER, have you spent all this time standing here," Madeline asked as she approached the grave of her father.

Esmeralda looked around as she just now realized that it was late afternoon and the skies were getting darker.

"I am sorry, dear; I must have not realized how late it is…"

The mother hugged her daughter as she got ready to leave. Madeline looked at the cross over her father's grave.

"I prayed all day the good Lord to have mercy on father's soul and to spare him the suffering from temporal punishment in purgatory."

"You are a good daughter," Esmeralda said softly as she looked one more time at the grave and turned to leave with her daughter at hand.

"Mother," Madeline started after they had made a few steps in silence, "you have never shared with me the story of how father and you met."

"It is a quite long one, my darling love," the gypsy said softly.

"Oh, please share it with me," the girl insisted, "I know of no better way to honor him but by keeping the memory of him alive."

"You are right, my dear one," Esmeralda agreed… "Well, it was on a bright sunny day. It was during a celebration called the Festival of Fools, I was dancing…"

"I am most certain that you have been the most beautiful maid there and that you have captured more than one hearts," the girl said with a smile as she imagined her mother at the celebration. "Tell me, how was father different from all of your other admirers?"

Esmeralda smiled back to her daughter as her mind wondered what would be a milder version of the story:

"Well… he was certainly much more persuasive than anybody else…"

THE END