Note: The beginning is rather long, but all interactions are necessary. So why don't we play a little game. Try and figure out which Disney character inspired all five of my characters that the Bargainer interacts with in this story. I'll give away one of them: Ursula, the Sea Witch from Disney's 'The Little Mermaid', inspired my fourth character, the Soothsayer.

The Bargainer

She was the Bargainer. She gave tortured souls a reason to hope and lured out their deepest yearnings with a mere question: What do you desire? It was a line she had come to know well, perfected it over the course of time, which was her loneliness, and rehearsed it before the shadows of her crooked tower, in which many travelers sought out.

They'd come from distant places in search of the treasure that was hidden away within the stone walls of the crooked building. Many rumored that a dragon dwelled inside and granted wishes to those who were brave enough to face it and mighty enough to conquer it; others said that a dark power dwelled inside and possessed those ignorant enough to venture near.

Nonetheless, both rumors were true.

She, the Bargainer, stood upon the balcony, gazing at the mountains before her. They smelled of smoke and ash, left a charred, bitter taste in her mouth with every inhale. It rendered her speechless, for the land hadn't always been doomed. It had once been as rich with colors as an autumn forest and as tranquil as a fluttering leaf, breaking from a branch and descending to the earth below. The vision was blissful, however a slight rustle from behind roused her from her thoughts and demanded for her attention.

Shifting, she tugged upon the hood of her dark cloak in a means of shielding her face from her visitor. It had been a rule she abided by, to never reveal her identify, though all reasoning was left unsaid; and no one was brave enough to question her.

"What do you desire?" she asked.

"I want sovereignty," answered a young boy whose cheeks were red, irritated from his travels. He would have approached her in earnest had she not have addressed his being there; patience was not his familiar and he had traveled a great distance to bargain with her. Standing in the shadows of her tower, lurking behind her cloaked form, he continued, "I want control and authority, to be feared and respected by adoring subjects."

She smirked, for though her eyes indulged in the jagged outlines of the evening mountains, she saw the boy's childish face. But he was no innocent being. He held darkness within his chest, one that neither had a beginning nor an end, and he often delved into impure thoughts of divine power. His lips, chapped from his journey and cracking at the corners, demanded for supremacy, and the Bargainer, prepared to make him an offer, saw his cruelties.

"Then a mighty King you will be," she said. The boy's eyes lit up, pride fumed from his nostrils like that of a wild boar, and his chest expanded with each and every breath he took.

"Crown me King, and my riches will be yours," he said, stepping forward in his conversation, yearning to spy her face and remember her features lest his future decrees ever put her in danger.

"No," said she, "Give me your crown in exchange. That is my bargain."

He fell from the height of his joy and into a pit of fury where he scrambled to escape, but the walls were too steep and he deemed it unfair.

"Absurd !—what is a King without his crown?"

"A great King does not need a crown, only wisdom."

"Nay!" cried the boy, withdrawing from her and reaching for the dagger he had stowed away in his scabbard. "This is but a ruse. You are a vagabond, a criminal of the lesser kind who pollute the world, hiding your ill qualities within this wretched tower. You are no mystic, only a coward whose stench is of burning."

The Bargainer made no comment, but, effortlessly, lifted a slender finger from beneath her cloak, summoning a tremendous heat to rise within the hilt of the dagger. The boy shrieked and cast down the blade. His hand throbbed and though he attempted to cool the burning sensation with his tongue and cool breath, the pain didn't cease to exist.

"Perhaps," she started in a low voice, "you should ask for wisdom instead, since your lips betray you."

"It's true," said the boy, rubbing at his palm, trying in vain to suppress the tender boil which had formed upon it. "You are a sorceress."

" Give me your crown in exchange for being King. That is my bargain."

The tower grew silent while the boy worked his fingers into his palm and contemplated. Beyond the balcony, a fire had started in the dry bushes, which were scattered throughout the mountains, and the cackling flames were the only thing to be heard. Thick smoke rose into the air and drifted into the tower, suffocating the boy and reminding him of the awful stench that had repulsed him upon entering the forbidden mountains, and he longed to be free of it.

"You shall have my crown." He spoke quickly so as not to inhale the gust of smoke, the charred scent that tumbled about in his stomach and made him ill.

"Then a King you shall be," she said, lifting her eyes past the mountains and fixing her sights upon the morning sun. As it rose, stretching itself beyond what seemed as the edge of the earth, a great shadow overwhelmed it. A tall, stone structure rose from the ground and stood before it, bearing battlements and crimson flags. It was the boy's kingdom.

The Bargainer was pleased. She removed her hood, revealing a golden crown, which sat atop her head, and retired from the balcony, but the boy did not catch a glimpse of her face, for he was miles away, sitting upon a throne of ivory and commanding his officials.

When the morning gave way to the evening, a knock came from the door, summoning a grimace from the sorceress. Withdrawing to the shadows of her lair, she swirled her fingers about and summoned the hinges of the door to obey her. Creaking, they listened, and the door was opened.

An old woman, hunched forward and clothed in rags, hobbled inside, dragging a long braid of matted, grey hair behind her. She had trouble breathing, nearly tripped upon the uneven ground, and spit a few drops of blood into her shaking palms. Though the Bargainer watched with keen eyes, she never offered a hand to the old hag nor healed her from her illness. However, she made her presence known with her familiar line,

"What do you desire?"

The old woman, frightened by the voice that shook the tower, cowered behind her veil and struggled to speak.

"I ask for so little," she croaked, "though I fear my wish will be spurned." Her confidence was as withered as her appearance, but the sorceress, keeping to the shadows as she moved about, softly chuckled and assured the hag that nothing was out of her reach, for she was without equal.

The old woman sighed with joy at such generosity (though her missing teeth and parched skin were still hidden beneath her veil), and began in a throaty voice,

"When I was but a child, mother never called me beautiful. Mother never combed my hair or kissed my forehead. Mother was ashamed of me, and I too, became ashamed." She paused, recalled the bitter memory, and then continued, "The children of the nursery across the river often throw rocks at my windows, hoping to steal a glance of my face. They insult me. They belittle me; they are ashamed of me. And you will be too."

Snatching her veil, she exposed herself and prepared to be judged. Her hair was sparse and her eyes were milk white; she bore no nose and her lips were thin and frail. Nevertheless, the Bargainer did not falter.

"I ask for love," said the hag, "for to be loved by another would end my suffering."

"Then love you shall have. Give me your first thought of love in exchange for your acceptance. That is my bargain."

The hag agreed without protest, and the Bargainer, stepping out from the shadows with a lowered head and an incantation upon her lips, sparked a fire within the old woman's chest. It was warm and soothing, and while it melted away the bitterness within her and turned her shame into ash, it did not straighten her back nor did it grant her beauty; and a spine rattling shriek was unleashed.

"Sorceress!" cried the hag, "You've deceived me!" She clawed at her face, repulsed by her unchanged, haggard appearance, and she fell to her knees and wept over her plight, yelping in between her sobs, "I shall never be loved if I remain unchanged!"

But the Bargainer clicked her tongue upon the roof of her mouth and knelt beside the hag. "Outward beauty is fickle and love does not guarantee acceptance," reaching for her withered hands, she continued, "but if such love was held within the right hands, everything shall become beautiful."

The fire within the old woman grew until the flames spilled from her lips, then it died, leaving behind a trail of smoke that clouded her eyes. Only then did she see the beauty of herself and began to love it.

"My hair," she croaked, reaching for her matted braid, "it is like silver." In awe, she shed a tear, and lifted her eyes only to find that the Bargainer was not before her, but she was not alone either. She was home, in a small shack by a bridge; and a couple of red haired children, the orphans from the nursery across the river, rushed inside and huddled around her with sweet things upon their lips.

Reaching for the eldest and brushing her spindly fingers through his hair, she smiled and thought of lifting him up into her arms and kissing his forehead. Promptly, the thought was stolen from her mind, but nevertheless she found that she was loved. And the Bargainer, her mind filled with the thought of love and acceptance, grinned at her deed and sought rest. But it did not come, for a man in a red tunic stood at the door.

His bulky frame filled the doorway and he ducked as he entered so as not to bump his head.

"I've been climbing the mountain all day—heard that you grant wishes," he began in a proud voice, dusting off his large arms which were covered in ash. "I see that the rumors are false, you are no dragon." Smirking, he reached for his quiver and drew an arrow, aiming it at the shadows that hid the sorceress from his dark eyes. "But I've come prepared."

"A fine skill, I'm sure," she said, further withdrawing into the shadows of her tower.

"I've accurate aim," the man started, "I once—"

"What do you desire?" The Bargainer interrupted, for his arrogance was weighing down upon her head like a heavy stone and she was growing irritable.

"A wife," he replied, "one who will listen to my needs, tend to my demands, raise my children, care for my estate, and share my bed."

Silence followed and then a scoff filled the air. "Then a slave you will have. Give me your soul in exchange for her devotion. That is my bargain."

"Madness!" cried the man. He held up his bow and moved from left to right, contemplating where to aim, and when a slight scuffle caught his ear, he pointed and shot his weapon. He waited for a shrill scream, the thump of a body hitting the floor, but instead he heard his arrow snap in half and a soft chuckle humiliated him.

"Poisonous wretch," he sneered, reaching for another arrow, however, the fletching sliced his finger like a blade and he held his tongue.

"She would have been the epitome of beauty," she said as she reflected upon the image of the young maiden she had chosen to be his wife.

"How beautiful?"

"Beautiful enough to tame a beast with a mere glance."

"Hmph, beasts," he scoffed. "They aren't nearly as wild and vicious as you think."

Unsheathing his dagger and twirling it about his thick fingers, he prepared himself for a challenge. "What must I do to earn her affection?"

"Surrender your life to me." Her statement was as bold as his courage, but a twinge of unease erupted within him and he, though mighty and strong, fell weak to the thought of surrendering his soul. But his pride was troublesome and it swelled within him until it engulfed his fears, prompting him to claim his prize, the beautiful maiden that was to be his wife. While he contemplated, a satisfying thought crept into his mind: the commoners of the small village from which he came from would surely bow their heads in approval and sicken themselves with envy as they lose themselves in mindless prattle over his accomplishments and his beautiful wife.

Such an ill thought became tangible—was as small as a drop of dew upon a flower's petal in the early spring. It lay within the Bargainer's palm, and with a gentle sigh it rose and consumed the man, eliminating his presence by entrusting him into his newfound reality where he gloated to drunkards, deceiving them with a tale of his triumph over a dragon that dwelled within a crooked tower. Nevertheless, his falsehood was of no concern to the sorceress, for his soul, fleeting as it was, combined with her own and brought a grin upon her face.

The silence of the night was overwhelming; neither the nocturnal animals of the mountains nor the empty winds could be heard. And though the Bargainer yearned for rest, she remained awake, sauntered towards the balcony, and waited upon the arrival of the stranger she had been expecting all day, (or so it had been foretold by the Soothsayer of the mountains).

She was an odd woman, the Soothsayer. She neither appeared to be young nor old, yet held a guttural voice that had once lain dormant within her parched throat for centuries due to her betrayal to the great rulers of her past country; she had foretold a faulty prophecy, leading the prosperous nation into a savage war against its own allies. However, in her exile, she had fled to the mountains, taking shelter under the dark shadows they cast in which she would remain for the rest of her days.

The Bargainer fixed her eyes upon the very mountain in which the Soothsayer dwelled, hidden within a cave and murmuring curses in the darkness of its shadows. During the time the odd woman had arrived, it had not been unusual for the Bargainer to spy hordes of religious men, garbed in their cassocks and gowns, scoping the steep mountains, (though they struggled with their footing and their cumbersome flags and garments). They had sought the strange Soothsayer; whether it was to listen to her unreliable predictions or to slay her, no one knew. Either way, the Bargainer, well aware of the stories surrounding the odd woman, thoughtfully reflected upon the uncertain prophecy she had been dealt by her three nights ago: In three days time a strange being will seek you out in the dead of night; it shall be your destroyer.

Such words sparked a fire within the sorceress as she pondered her plight, but it faded as the moon climbed higher in the sky, for no one had come. And she, assured that the Soothsayer's prophecy was faulty, drew back her hood, allowing the dry wind to comb through her raven tresses, and bid good-night to the earth and the moon. However, upon her parting words, her ears caught footsteps ascending her tower.

A frail hand, adorned with rings of sapphires and rubies, knocked upon her door and awoke a maelstrom of terror within the sorceress's mind. Nevertheless, she took to the midnight shadows of her tower to conceal herself, bid entrance to the stranger, and surrendered to the Soothsayer's prediction: it shall be your destroyer.

He was an old man whose narrow frame was garbed in a dark robe, much like that of the religious men of the mountains; his eyes were somber and his stature was overwhelming. And while he did not speak nor approach her faint silhouette, his dull greeting, which was but a simple bow, prompted her to speak the line she had come to know so well,

"What do you desire?"

Nearly expressionless, he replied in a solemn tone, "For twenty years I have been searching for a thief's hideout, however, time is not in my favor."

A wry smile cut across her face and she offered the old man a seat at the makeshift table that stood adjacent from the door. He gladly obliged, sauntered towards it, and clasped his hands together upon seating himself, allowing the rosary which was tightly wrapped about his wrist to fall into view; he was a rather sovereign man.

"I know where it lays," she began, "this safe haven for the outcasts." Though she had never ventured past the mountains, tales were carried along by the wind.

"It's a gathering of heathens," the old man sneered.

"I've no concern of its business, nor have I any concern of your judgments," she retorted, aware of his wrath—the twitch of his upper lip, the trembling of his hands, and the pounding of his heart. Yet, a certain stillness came over him and silenced his irritation, leading him to straighten his posture and clear his throat. Reaching into his dark garment, he retrieved a bag of cloth and tossed it atop the table; its heavy thud shattered the silence of the night.

"Give me the location of the Cour de Miracles," he said, gesturing towards the bag, "and this shall be yours."

"No," she said, tearing away from her musings and declining the old man's offer.

"Is it not enough?" he asked, raising a dark brow in suspicion, although her very existence was suspicious enough to bring a poniard to her heart.

"No, it is not nearly enough," she replied, "futile as it may be."

A brief silence fell upon the two until a faint creak spread throughout the tower as the old man attempted to rise from his seat; whether he was taking his leave with the thought of returning with additional bags of gold or rising to draw a weapon, the Bargainer hadn't known, but the sound of her approaching footsteps stilled him and he remained seated.

"What I want, you cannot give me," she said as she emerged from the shadows, dark feet gently tapping about the ground. Slowly, her form was revealed as she entered the small pool of light that illuminated her crooked tower. Her face was somber and her posture was frigid, but her green eyes, which caught the moonlight, were resplendent and complimented her dark face.

"Perhaps," the old man began in a solemn tone, "an exception can be made?"

But there was none to be made, and she, amused by his stoicism, drew closer and paralyzed him with her actions. In one swift motion, she straddled the old man and took his neck within her hold.

"Break your vows," she began, carefully taking the red ribbon that hung from his chaperone within her free grasp, "and serve me." Twisting the silk about, she veiled his lips and laid a kiss upon them. "That is my bargain."

A sigh escaped his lips and a poisonous imagining entered his mind, but the rosary, which was tightly bound about his wrist, choked him and reminded him that such imaginations were immoral and shameful. He abruptly rose from his seat, casting the sorceress to the ground, and promptly left. It was like a prick to the finger, and while he hadn't accepted nor declined her bargain, his bag of gold remained upon the table; though it was the least of the Bargainer's concerns.

Nevertheless, in time she'd learn his name: Judge Claude Frollo.

A/N: Did you figure out who my characters were inspired by? Leave a response in the reviews and let me know! Anyways, this will be a short one shot, about three parts long. I hope you've enjoyed this first piece.