The Servant of Judge Frollo

One Last Kiss

Dawn, the sky blood red and streaked with smoke like hideous scars upon the beautiful France. There stood Healia, dressed in the shift and tied to the stake, bundles of straw around her. A crowd had gathered around her, watching in dismay as Frollo held the torch to burn her. The drumming only raised everyone's tension, leaving all the townsfolk anxious. But those who were most anxious where the gypsies, some shouting for her to be freed. Healia looked under slept, like she'd cried all night. Then again Frollo didn't look much better. There were deep craters of darkness beneath his eyes and he looked drained. He glanced at Healia before calling out the charges, "You, the gypsy Healia, is deemed a witch and charged with the crime of working with witches! Her punishment of such a crime is death by burning at the stake, to be sent back to the deep pits of Inferno from whence you came. But you first have a chance to repent so that God might forgive you for your unholy crimes." He shouted before going up to Healia, her head down. She knew no one was going to rescue her; Esmeralda couldn't because Healia had made her promise that no matter what happened to her that she would stay within the Court of Miracles, where she was safe. Healia couldn't help but smile dejectedly, she knew what was going to happen, the gypsies that would see her burn would tell Esmeralda who would grieve and wail about it being her fault. But in a few good months she would try to live up to what Healia had wanted her to be, a good gypsy that did not flirt with every man she met or steal. Ha, she was trying to give her sister a lesson in stealing? If she hadn't tried to steal all those years ago she probably wouldn't be in such a position. Or maybe she would and her heart wouldn't hurt so much, with betrayal. Looking into his face, the face that had nodded in approval when she'd read correctly and had frowned when she'd messed up a word, the eyes that had shone with a disgust and anger but a hint of curiosity as well. The lips and nose her fingers had traced on the cold winter night. The face she'd seen in dreams for years but never knew why, the face she'd promised to remember. The face of her captor, then her master, her companion, and now, her executioner. How could he be so many things to her after spending only a year together? And it had been so long... He began to flip to the page he needed in the Bible, holding the torch in one hand. She looked at him as he approached her, eyes slightly teary, "What have I done to you to deserve this? I am no witch and you know that. Please, don't kill me without a good reason." She implored softly. He stopped flipping through the book and looked at her, "No, there is a reason I am going to burn you." She sighed, "And what is that?" He looked at her quietly, "Because you changed me into a soft man, you made me want and feel. Only a witch could achieve such a thing." He replied softly, voice tentative as if he was afraid the words were being shouted to the crowd instead of whispered in her ear. She looked at the sky, "I guess I cannot convince you, and then I want one last favor before I die." Frollo looked at her readily, "What is it; tell me." She gave a sad smile and leaned forward through her binding and gently kissed his lips, making him stiffen in shock before melting against her warm, inviting lips. It made his mouth burn and lips tingle, as if set alight by the torch in his hand. But not in a bad way. There was a sharp gasp in the crowd, many had come, protesting about how this was madness. But now, this had certainly been unexpected. The Prime Minister, the cold stiff Judge himself had just kissed a woman? A gypsy woman no less? Where had his mind gone?! He felt their lip movement grow stronger and he found himself strangely excited before she pulled away, eyes tearing up, "I wanted to kiss you first this time. At least I can take a sweet kiss to heaven. Goodbye Frollo, I hope you will get robbed by another little girl who will want to learn a lot and have to work a year in your house. And make sure to teach her how to say the word predicament, she's bound to get it wrong a few times." She whispered, trying to hold back the tears that were falling down her cheeks. He felt a tightening in his throat before he turned away. The sweet kiss' sensations were gone, now only sorrow was left, bitter sorrow that stung his throat, "I...don't know what to do." He was at war with himself, half of him wanting to burn her while the other half begged to save her. But one half of him won and he looked at her one last time, tears in his eyes, "I'm...sorry." And with that dropped the fire at the base of her pyre. She began to cry softly, making him tear up and turn away, unable to look at her as she suffered, at his hand. He heard the roaring of the fire as it lapped at her feet, slowly engulfing the hay and the woman. Suddenly she gave a last wail before he heard nothing more. He turned once the smell of smoldering flesh and hair reached his nostrils. He watched blankly as the fire rose, not caring as the smoke burned his nose and eyes, making them water even more. He didn't care that the fire heated his face unbearably hot before dying to nothing but ashes. All he cared about was his final choice. Once the fire was done he found himself the only person still there. Just as he was about to leave like everyone else he saw something in the fire. Picking it up and dusting away ash he saw to his shock, the book she'd had was totally untouched. It was a small miracle. She was now ashes; Healia the gypsy was now dead. Flipping through the book he paused on one page, a little bit of writing was in the corner, "Judge Frollo, I miss him, he gave this book to me and I cherish it deeply. I shall never forget such a great man" He shut the book and crumpled to his knees, sobbing into his hands that were covered in the gypsy's ashes.