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Quasimodo stared at the shield-shaped trinket in his hands. The item that Victor and Hugo had risked themselves to find...and been exposed because of.
That very morning, just before dawn, they had yelled for Hudson to hide, that hunters were already in the cathedral. Hudson had been in Quasimodo’s room already, so Quasimodo had locked the door behind him and gone to face the Hunters.
They had already shattered Laverne by the time he got to the stairs.
And after they’d beaten Quasimodo to the ground, after he’d pleaded for mercy, he’d learned what passed for ‘mercy’ in the eyes of the cruel men calling themselves Hunters. Rather than reduce the two remaining gargoyles to rubble, they had done something arguably worse.
It had taken hours of labor for the Hunters to saw through Victor’s stone waist. Even more for Hugo’s.
Then the men had lifted their top halves and set them on the floor...then shattered the bottom halves.
One of them had made a joke about gargoyles making their own gravestones.
And then they’d left.
Left Quasimodo there with the mutilated bodies of his friends. It had almost looked like they were still merely asleep.
His wails of despair were the only peals that had come from Notre Dame that day.
It was nearly sunset when Quasimodo had noticed. In the rubble remains of Victor’s legs, and of the scant clothes that had turned to stone with him, there had been a crack in the otherwise whole stone belt pouch.
It had taken quite a bit of willpower for Quasimodo to will himself to smash the pouch open and uncover the glittering, lacquered object inside.
And when night had fallen and Hudson had awakened, he’d found Quasimodo still on his knees, staring at the Phoenix Gate in his hands.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. Quasimodo took a breath. “...You said the Phoenix brought you here after you found something. But you wouldn’t tell me what.”
Hudson stayed silent.
“It was these, wasn’t it?” Quasimodo looked up at what remained of Victor and Hugo. “Their remains. Their gravestones.”
“...Aye, lad.”
“You knew they were doomed.”
“Nay! I thought...I thought I’d saved them...and that now...now I’d stay here, and be a part of your clan for the rest of my days!” Hudson shook his head. “But I should’ve known...the power of the Phoenix can take you anywhere in time...but it is always a time you were already meant to be in. It cannae change the timeline in any way t’weren’t already changed.” He breathed deeply, and his voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, lad...I thought I...I wanted…”
“This…” Quasimodo’s thick finger traced the golden figure on the trinket. “This is the Phoenix Gate.” He looked up at Hudson. “Your way back home.”
“...Aye.” Hudson sighed. “I...I don’t know what they were thinkin’...that’s what happened, isn’t it? They went to retrieve it...for me. But the Hunters followed them, and…damn their thick heads, why?!”
“No.”
Hudson blinked, brow furrowing. “No?”
“No,” the rust-haired man repeated, “You can’t have it.” He held the Phonenix Gate tighter against his chest.
“...Lad...I could nae leave you-”
“If you want it-”
“-I don’t want it-”
“-then I have two demands.”
“-ye won’t be able t- ...Alright.” Hudson sighed and rubbed one hand over his scalp. “What are your demands, lad?”
Quasimodo looked at the floor, still hugging the Phoenix Gate.
“...Take me with you.”
Hudson’s eyes widened. It felt somehow profane to smile, but he couldn’t help it.
“Of course, lad...we’ll find you somewhere you don’t have to hide like this. You can be free, and-”
“And.”
“...Right. What else?”
“I know you said you’re not supposed to. That it’s forbidden. That if it goes wrong, the person could die trying. But I don’t care.”
Quasimodo looked up at Hudson, his eyes clear and resolute.
“Make me a gargoyle.”
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Shoot, I forgot to write commentary for this one.
This one's been in my head a looong time, but always as a "nah, that's too out there."
Fuck that, here it is!
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