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Chapter Text

The morning light was bright on the cobblestones, and her smile was brighter still. He had thought he was named for the sun. Phoebus found himself transfixed by the way her eyes crinkled at the corners as she threw her head back in laughter. The light seemed to shine from within her as she shook with the thrumming explosion of joy. He honestly had already forgotten what he had done to draw her into her current state. 

All he knew was that he was now being drawn into the uncontrollable laughter along with her. He could feel the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes, and the ache beginning to form in his belly. It was one of his happiest moments. 

“Oh my God, hold on a minute, show me that again!” Esmeralda leaned towards him again, to gape at the worn notebook in his hands. Her wild hair tickled at his neck and cheek with the movement. 

Finally remembering the drawings in his hand, he tilted them towards her and said, “Sometimes things get boring and tense on the front, and drawing my fellow soldiers in amusing situations was a good diversion.” 

“Amusing positions?! This poor man has the body of a boar!” The mirth shone through the attempt at sympathy for the subject of Phoebus’s drawing. 

“Well, he kept running into things whenever he got drunk and fell into a muddy puddle.” Tilting his head to the side, recalling the man, he added, “Plus I’m pretty sure he asked me to draw him a portrait.” 

“How did he react to your work?” Esmeralda looked up at Phoebus. She became momentarily distracted by the way the sun hit his eyes, leaving flecks of amber in its path. 

Grinning at her, he revealed, “He cussed me out, and then laughed his ass off.” 

Esmeralda sniggered at his answer. “What animal would I be?”

“A goat.” Phoebus said, looking down their legs to a lounging Djali. The goat bleated absently at them, focused more on the warmth of the sun on his back.

In mock outrage, Esmeralda crossed her arms and twisted her head away. Nose turned up, she gave an exaggerated “Humph.” 

Giggling like he was a teenage boy again, Phoebus swathed his arms around her to regain the closeness. Lowering his voice to a soft murmur, he amended his answer, “Maybe a Lioness.” 

“Mmmmm. That sounds better, but tell me why.” Her head turned into his shoulder, leaning into his chest. 

Phoebus tightened his arms. Their spot alongside a stone bridge was chosen at random when their promenade had gone exceedingly long. Barely a month together, they found every excuse to spend time in each other’s company. If he had his way, there would be more hours in the day. 

“Well, they are creatures of wild ferocity. They are strong and fearsome. But…” He started.

Esmeralda raised a brow, “But…?”   

“They are also tender and warm to their own. Reminds me of you.” He had the thought to press  a kiss to her hair. At her hum of pleasure, his thought quickly became a powerful longing. But- they were new and he was still terrified to do the wrong thing. So, he tread carefully. “Can I kiss you?”

He could hear the short exhale in quiet chuckle, followed quickly by “Mmmhmm.” Her head began to turn upwards right as Phoebus’s lips pressed against her eyebrow.

With a small giggle, Esmeralda said, “I think you missed Captain!”

“Absurd, I’ll have you know I meant to do that.” His chest puffed out in false vanity. 

“Does my eyebrow stir you so?” She purred at him. 

“Perhaps,” Phoebus peered down at her, this woman who inexplicably returned his affections. A few months ago, he had been alone. Not heartless, but numb. Every morning he had put on a carefully crafted mask of bravado and frivolousness. All to avoid the pit of guilt and horror that scratched at the iron doors he had erected in his mind. 

And now- Now he was hers . She had, quite literally, pulled him from murky depths and brought life back to his withered and wasted heart. It was her that reminded him of the man he was- the one he should be. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t content with simply surviving. He wanted to live. Live a life with this clever, warm, fierce, and brave woman. 

Looking at her face, committing every pore to memory, the stampede of a thousand thousand horses hit him. He thought he knew what it meant to love until then- that moment. However, the feeling that threatened to burst his chest open was unlike what he had ever felt before. That moment was the moment he knew he would never again love another woman the way he loved Esmeralda. 

“What are you looking at me so intently for?” Esmeralda spoke, his reeling thoughts seeming to swim though his eyes. 

His face drifted down, gaze drifting to her lips. “Can I kiss you again?” 

“You really don’t have to always ask anymore,” the corner of her lip curved up, endeared by the question. 

His lips brushed against hers, still giving her the freedom to withdraw. Esmeralda clasped his face between her hands and pulled him closer. The world around them shrunk, there was only this now. This heaven-sent love that brought life back to a hollow heart.

~~~

This work inspired by a prompt from Ihrtmichael and the song Without Fear by Dermot Kennedy

Chapter Text

The stone of the floor was smooth and cool against her cheek. She wondered if her fingers could scratch lines into the floor, a mark for each crack in her heart. Her hands were strong, if her nails could not leave marks, maybe her fists could. 

Esmeralda supposed seven months with him was more than she thought she would ever receive with such a man. After all, Phoebus was a war hero- clever and strategic. His humor and wit fascinated her and brought joy to her soul. His heart was overflowing with kindness, the sort that continued after no one was looking. Patient and loving, he knew how to make her feel like she was the milky path of stars in the night sky, even when she felt more like a raging sea. 

More than that, he was hers . 

She wanted to be his. 

What do they have against people who are different anyway? 

The soft rap at the door disturbed her lamenting. She sat up from the floor and hardened her face. Rising to her feet, she strode to the door and opened it for Phoebus. 

His smile at her only barely reached his eyes. It was difficult for her to discern what thoughts swirled in his head. When her face failed to return a convincing smile, his faltered. 

“It’s uhm, supposed to be a clear night. You had said before that you wanted to learn about the different stars from an ancient Greek perspective…I thought it would be a good night for it.”

Esmeralda just nodded, and pulled her shawl from the chair. Phoebus held out his arm for her to take. Her eyes looked up into his, questioning, perhaps hopeful. Soundlessly, she slipped her arm through his and they departed. 

Together, they scaled the building where Phoebus lived and laid upon the roof. Eyes glued to the constellations, Esmeralda inhaled sharply- trying to keep the anxiety from overwhelming her. She felt a large, calloused hand cover hers. 

Then his voice, soft and kind, asked, “Are you okay?” 

“I know what happened today.” Her lip wavered, the kindness in his voice too much to bear.  

“What is it you think happened?” 

Esmeralda huffed loudly, blinking her eyes and vainly hiding her feelings in a layer of sarcasm, “The large group of well-to-do folks seeking to save you from your unholy Gypsy paramour.” His eyes closed, his hand squeezed hers as she continued. “Clopin heard what they said as they corralled you in the blacksmith shop.”

“They came, yes. I considered their words as much as I do the opinions of the fish on my pole.”

His words were firm, matter of fact. 

“What did they say?” she asked, question clipped and voice shaking.

She felt him shift beside her. On his elbow, leaning over to look directly into her eyes. “Do you truly wish me to recite the vile things they said, or would you rather me tell you how it actually impacted us.” 

“I need to know how bad it was. I need to know if this is the beginning or if it will get worse.” Her face turned to him, knowing the words that were soon to spill from his mouth. 

He sighed, having hoped he would just need to reassure her. “It was extensive. They had thought it was a minor dalliance. One of them apparently heard us say we loved each other and they ‘needed to step’ in. They spouted off every horrible thing-”

“What. What did they spout off?” 

Looking at the shingles, Phoebus appeared at a loss. His brows knitted together, frown etched over his face. His eyes glistened in the starlight. His words- their words- finally came in in a scratchy whisper. “They called you scum. Vile heathen. That even if you weren’t a witch, your intentions can only be impure and that you are incapable of real love. They told me that repenting and leaving you may allow me to regain my space in my father’s home.” 

“What did you say to that?” Esmeralda’s own tears had spilled over. He loved her, that much she knew. But, how much of this could he take before deciding a life with her wasn’t worth it? 

His thumb swept under her eyes. Phoebus cleared his throat and met her eyes. “I told them that God would see the cruelty and judgment in their hearts. Then I told them to get the hell out of the shop, and did so unkindly.” 

She breathed deeply, “Phoebus, I need to know you are prepared for this. Moments like that are so common. If you can’t handle that then you need to put me out of my mis-” 

“I am well aware. This is not the first time a comment has been made to me, and I know it will not be the last.” He admitted.

“Why haven’t you told me?”

Phoebus brushed a curl from her forehead. “I see you put up with so much. I didn’t want to put more on your plate.” 

“When you hide those things from me… it’s terrifying. I have no idea if you are blind to it, and prone to realizing everything in a tidal wave of horridness- overwhelming you to the point that you cannot handle this. Handle us.” Her eyes were spilling over in steady streams now. “I meant what I said before, you can break my heart. If it’s going to happen, I ask it be now before it’s at a point you break me completely.”

Her eyelids pressed tight, trying to stop the crying. But then, soft lips pressed upon her cheeks. Each contact, each kiss absorbing another tear. When they were gone from her skin, those lips landed on her eyelids. Her eyes fluttered open to see his eyes welling up, as if he had taken her tears as his own. 

“I have been through horrors of so many kinds. Some I may share and some I cannot. And, I cannot begin to understand what it is like to be hated for my skin- for who my people are. What I know, my love, is that you have saved me in a thousand different ways. What those people say is nothing to me. Less than nothing. I have endured worse in my life, and I am not a fickle man. I am here unless you decide otherwise. I will spend as long as you need convincing you of that.” 

Arguing would have been no use. As much as her psyche shouted at her to challenge his claims, something in the firmness of his voice and the touch of his hands on her face silenced such thoughts. When his forehead met hers, more stones in the wall around her heart split apart.

Chapter Text

The large tent near the top of the Court of Miracles was truly a marvel. Perched atop a series of wooden rafters holding dwelling after dwelling, this was truly the most inviting. Warm oranges and deep purples moved along the fabric in woven patterns. Inside was a large circle of varying cushions and couches surrounding a low table. Clopin had set the table with plenty of drinks for everyone. 

It was a very special day after all. 

A Saturday without anything else planned. No guests who need to leave early at the cause of duty or obligation the morning after. A night for a bit of fun and mischief.  

He ushered a rare Gadje into his space. The tall, broad man with hair like sunlight stepped somewhat nervously into the space. Clopin allowed himself a small chuckle, knowing that only a few months ago he would have happily watched the man swing from a rope. Now, here he was- in his home and about to drink his alcohol. The world was funny like that. 

Phoebus turned back, unsure of where to sit. When Esmeralda strode into the tent with familiar ease, she sped directly to her preferred couch. She grasped his hand to pull Phoebus along with her. The wild haired woman gestured for him to sit. Once he was situated, Esmeralda wasted no time in sitting right next to him, legs draped over his legs and head rested on his shoulder. 

More people filed in and took their places. When the last guest trickled in, Clopin looked this way and that. Eyes searching for a particular invitee, he shot a questioning glance at Esmeralda. She shook her head. Clicking his tongue, Clopin supposed she should have expected it. Quasimodo had made some trips to the Court of Miracles, but was still gaining comfort in spending time with anyone besides Phoebus and Esmeralda. He would keep trying though. In the meantime, he stifled his disappointment and opened his arms wide to his guests. 

“Who’s ready for some merriment?” 

…

Phoebus had spent the evening in a rare quiet. Wanting not to upset the delicate acceptance he had earned through hours and hours of toil. He had helped as many people as would let him with rebuilding the Court. His own way of atonement. Being invited along with Esmeralda this time had been a welcome surprise. Messing it up with something stupid was not going to happen. So, he laughed with the jokes and stories and drank his fill. He mostly drew endless patterns on Esmeralda’s back with the tips of his fingers. 

Somehow, through the course of the evening, she had migrated further into his lap. At first, her doing so concerned him. It particularly concerned him with thoughts of the wellbeing of his neck. He caught Clopin’s eyes, loosening at the sight of rolling eyes and a bemused smirk. 

After some time, the man next to him- Danior, he believed- had finished a rather fascinating tale about the time he had constructed an elaborate fishing contraption. Phoebus glanced down, hoping to make a ribbing comment about her clinging to him, he instead found Esmeralda with her eyes closed. Breathing soft and rhythmic, she had clearly drifted off into a peaceful slumber.  

His arms reflexively tightened around her. She responded by burrowing closer into him. The fluttering in his chest spread throughout his body, until his fingertips were buzzing with the feeling. Her face, normally so expressive and full of life, was now smooth and peaceful. Long eyelashes traced her high cheeks, pert nose nearly pressed flat against his chest. 

“Well, I didn’t think my story was so dull.” Danior gave a hearty laugh, head pointed at the dozing woman. 

A huff of air pushed from Phoebus’s lips. Mumbling something about finding the story interesting, his attention was fixed squarely on her.

 She’d been close to sleep before with him, fighting it off whenever she began to nod away. He’d always figured she struggled to sleep unless she felt safe. She had practically spelled it out for him when she talked about not sleeping much since everything had happened. Not that he blamed her. It was often hard for him to find sleep after any particularly trying battle or mission. 

Yet, here she was. Nestled in his arms, without a need to fight sleep. Phoebus was awestruck. Knowing how significant this seemingly small thing was, he couldn’t help but be transfixed. 

The party carried on around him. He would answer questions asked, do his best to engage, but always in a whisper. Waking her was unthinkable. The muscles in his body had become stiff from the lack of movement, in order to avoid such a crime of waking Esmeralda. Phoebus, however, couldn’t be bothered to care. 

It only turned into an issue when the party guests began to leave, and he was left alone with Clopin. The usual buffer between him and the Roma King faintly snoring in his arms. 

“Do you plan to sit with her until she wakes up? I’m afraid I am not prepared for overnight guests.” Clopin plopped onto the couch next to them, causing a slight stir in Esmeralda. 

Phoebus stammered, “I don’t- I just don’t want…She sleeps so poorly.” 

“Hmmm…” Clopin eyed the former soldier. A judgment passed over his eyes, or rather a perception had switched. Perhaps his initial assessment was not quite what he thought. Sighing, he said “I’ll wake her, you can make sure she gets home safely.” 

At the dip of Phoebus’s chin, Clopin gently spoke Esmeralda’s name while placing a hand on her shoulder. She woke with a bit of a start, but calmed at the sight of the two trusted men.

After their goodbyes, Phoebus helped the still groggy Esmeralda down the series of stairs to the stone ground of the Court of Miracles. Once her feet hit that ground, her arm wove into his. He responded with a firm kiss to the top of her head. She leaned her head onto his shoulder as they walked home. 

At her door, she raised on her dancer’s feet to put her lips to his cheek, just beside the corner of his mouth. When she lowered back to her own height, they locked eyes. The spark seemed to ricochet between them, before Phoebus stepped forward and took her face into his hands. The kiss toed the line between hard and gentle. Faces pressed together tightly, but hands soft. 

They knew what tonight meant. Speaking it aloud wasn’t needed. And so, Phoebus returned the kiss on the corner of her lips. Murmurs of love passed from their lips. 

As the door reluctantly closed behind her, she wished for the first time that he had asked to stay the night. 

Chapter Text

Esmeralda was always exceedingly surprised at the gracefulness of his steps. They wove in tandem with her, showing precision in his footwork. Firm and steadying, his hands seemed to cradle and guide her in tune with the music. The way he spun her out, only to twirl her back to his chest, sent shivers down her spine. Especially with the heat of his breath tracing the shell of her ear as she leaned her head back against him. 

It was no small disappointment when the music stopped, the applause from the crowd pulling her from her trance. Dancing with Phoebus always reminded her why she had originally loved to dance. Back when she danced for the music, the rhythm- not the coin. When his lips pressed against her temple, she eyed him with a grin. 

“Are you certain you were a soldier, and not a dancer?” 

Phoebus quirked the side of his lip, letting the bravado ooze from his gaze, “What is a soldier, but a dangerous dancer? There’s plenty of footwork in both.”

“Touché Captain,” Esmeralda gripped his hand, leading him to the edge of the dancing square. They retook their seats, each drinking deeply from their cups to sate their thirst. Before they could become swept into conversation, both were pulled into opposite directions. 

Esmeralda was pulled away by other dancers of the Court, their soft hands pulling gently on her arms. She laughed in genuine joy at their coaxing and exaggerated pleas to join them. But, with a blown kiss to her paramour, she was lured into the well practiced choreography. 

While she danced, every glance to Phoebus was rewarded with one of two sights. Either his eyes, brown like the brandy he drank, were fixated on her. The intensity swirled at her core and left her breathless. The other sight was decidedly less… intimate. His head would be thrown back, drink pouring down his throat. Only for him to down another, gifted to him by one of Clopin’s friends. 

Her arms raised upward in dance along with the corners of her lips as she recognized the nefariously mischievous plot of the men. They liked to find entertainment by choosing someone to get very intoxicated. Esmeralda’s heart warmed, knowing they only did this to people in affection. It was affection Phoebus had worked hard to earn. 

Once their chosen songs had ended, Esmeralda hurried over to Phoebus. As soon as she had come into his awareness, his arm snaked around her waist to pull her into his lap. His lips were immediately crushed against her cheek, arms holding her like the best kind of vice. 

“You were gone for too long, and the wolves descended on me.” Phoebus said, perhaps a bit loudly. 

Clopin and his accomplices exchanged overblown looks of betrayal and hurt. The Roma King exclaimed, “Wolves?! We are friends, friends who offered a few drinks in thanks for bringing our beloved La Esmeralda such peace.” 

Phoebus leaned in, whispering “They are trying to get me drunk.” 

“It seems like they might be succeeding, my love.” She giggled at his look of shock, fingers threading through his hair. His shock quickly faded as he leaned into her hand. 

“I think he may be purring.” Clopin’s friend, Danior said under his breath. 

Responding with a loud mimic of a kitten’s purr, Phoebus bobbed his head. “I’m not that drunk yet, just very, very relaxed.” 

“Then you owe me another dance.”

Whipping his hand to his head in salute, Phoebus exclaimed, “Yes ma’am!” Before Esmeralda could slide from his lap, he stood, downed one more drink, and nearly carried her to the center of the dance floor. 

Joining into the ballroom style dance, they twirled a circle with other couples. His eyes sparkled in the torch light, never leaving hers. The music carried onwards, the melody calling for each couple to take several steps forward, before the man raised his arm into an arch for his partner to glide under. As Esmeralda stepped beneath, Phoebus leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the lips. 

Esmeralda drew her lips back into a surprised grin. His responding giggle was the first clue that his drinks were beginning to take a stronger effect. Her next clue was the increasingly uneven steps of his feet. Usually never stumbling or missing a mark, he began to dance as though he had two left feet. And, both of those feet were tied together. 

After Esmeralda began to fear her livelihood as a dancer would be endangered by the threat of his boots crashing down on her feet, she coaxed him back to their seats. Phoebus essentially fell to the bench, accidentally pulling her down with him. She lay atop him for a moment, his wide eyes staring up at her and rooting her to the spot. 

Then his mouth widened into a suggestive smile as he narrowed his eyes and said, “But darling, we are in public!” 

In a barely concealed laugh, she swatted at his chest. She quickly got up, pulling on his arms to drag him into a sitting position. “I think I better get you home before you embarrass yourself.” 

“But, who will walk you home?” He frowned, worry creasing his forehead. 

She chuckled, “I live two blocks away from you, and I’ve walked home alone plenty by myself. Plus, I’ll have you know I’ve been trained by a genuine Captain of the Kings Archers.” 

“Ex-Captain,” Phoebus’s words had become slower. Not quite slurred, but languid. “And if you’re so well trained, perhaps you should escort me home.” 

Rolling her eyes, having just suggested the same, Esmeralda helped Phoebus haul himself to his feet. The weight of his muscular frame leaned into her. Warm and inviting, it felt right- to be this close. She looked over to his face. He was already looking at her, bright eyed and besotted. Suddenly, she was thankful for the burgundy already gracing her cheeks from her own drinks of the evening. 

Together, they walked the distance to his small apartment. It took some time before Phoebus finally managed to finish rifling through his person to find the key. Growing exasperated, Esmeralda snuck it from his fumbling hands to unlock the door herself. She ushered him in, closing the door behind them. 

Just as she began leading him to the bed so he could lie down, Phoebus wrapped his arms around her waist. Pulling her into his chest and dipping his head down to her face, he whispered, “I want to dance again.” 

“Only if you go slow, and promise not to step on my feet,” she kissed him on the nose, lingering a moment. 

Phoebus settled into a swaying motion. He seemed to meld into her body, wanting to be impossibly close. Esmeralda wrapped an arm around his neck, resting her other hand on his neck. She felt his cheek come to rest on the top of her head. She smiled, leaning her own head on his chest. They barely moved their feet, just moved like a pair of willow trees in the wind. Their own private dance to music only they could hear. 

“I wish I was a poet.” 

Blinking several times, Esmeralda moved her head to look at Phoebus in confusion. “Why on earth would you want to be a poet?” 

Phoebus pressed his forehead to hers. “They always know how to explain what they feel.” 

“You don’t seem to have an issue with that, Monsieur ‘I’m not so sure it didn’t’,” She said with a slight chuckle in her words and lowering her voice at the last phrase- mimicking his deep voice. 

He shook his head, “I do when it’s this…big.” 

“What do you mean?”

“When the feeling is big, I can’t explain.” 

Esmeralda’s cheeks managed to heat further. Her brows knitted upwards, voice cracking with unexplained emotion, “Try.”

“You’re like… breathing.” He said after a few beats. 

“Breathing?”

He inhaled, pulling her in with the breath. “Breathing keeps me alive. You keep me alive.. not literally… I wasn’t alive before, but now I am. With you, I mean.” 

“I am managing to almost follow you,” Esmeralda’s voice was low. There was a torrent whirling in her stomach. She heard plenty of pretty words throughout her life. Seldom had she heard such raw intensity of emotion in words of love- stilted as they were. Somehow they sounded better this way.

Phoebus was clearly grappling with further words. His face was contorted, afraid to speak. “I know I uh…was too soon for you when I proposed. I-I’m sorry. But, I still want to marry you. More than anything, a-a-and I’ll wait as long as you need. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Wide green eyes fixated on his face. Esmeralda could feel the breath caught in her throat. She was utterly lost in her feelings. Guilt for one. Who in the world declines a proposal from someone they love so fiercely? Yet, deeper down, her soul was a light. His sincerity was overwhelming to the point she nearly begged him to marry her right then. But, there were still barriers she needed to face, questions she needed answered. 

Letting him know when she was ready, on the other hand, was doable. In a smaller voice than she intended, she said, “Okay.” 

“If you still want me that is-”

Her hands flew to his face, palms against his cheeks. Eyes like saucers, she shook her head, “Of course, I want you! I love you, I’m… bad at feelings too. Clearly.” She kissed him hard at that, crushing her lips to his. He deepened the kiss. Or, maybe it was her. Either way, their lips worked against each other in a wild fervor. 

As she was about to step backwards toward the small bed, he pulled away from her lips. Instead, he kissed her tenderly on the forehead. 

Sighing, she simply said, “I better let you get some rest.” 

“If we were married, you’d be home already.”  The side of his mouth twitched. 

She shrugged at him, squeezing his hands as she headed to the door, “Oh who knows, maybe we’d both still have a couple blocks to go.” 

“You really think Clopin would let me?” He called after her. 

Holding the door wide, she grinned, “Getting you drunk was his way of welcoming you to the fold”

He smiled as the door closed behind her.

Chapter Text

Phoebus

He wasn’t entirely sure how the line came to him, but he couldn’t tell if he was proud of himself or if he wanted to cringe at himself. Either way, he tried to make his eyes seem serious. He did mean it after all. It had begun to stir before, but now his heart felt like it had started beating again after years in frozen numbness.

All he knew was that he had finally found himself again. No longer would he mindlessly obey orders he knew were immoral.  Even if it took the bravery of a beautiful stranger to inspire him. If he died doing so, then so be it. Maybe in another life he’d find her again, and find a way to be a part of her life. 

He hadn’t died though. She had pulled him from the edge of death and delivered him to safety. Now she tended to his wound, and no longer looked at him like a sheep looks at a wolf. She no longer looked at him like an enemy. She called him brave. Who cared if she had called him crazy in the same breath? He may as well be. 

He wasn’t dead. He had a chance to be a part of Esmeralda’s life. He decided he had to make use of the blessing he had been given. He had to try. And, he really, really wanted to kiss her. His eyes betrayed him, lowering to the fullness of her lips. They looked so soft.

As those lips parted, his heart leapt. He looked back up to those vibrant green eyes. When her head began to dip down, he raised his to meet her. 

A fire lit in his belly. Warm and a light with sparks that felt like they raced up his spine. Her hand on his chest tightened as his heart raced beneath it. He had never experienced anything that had felt so… right. 

The pain building in his shoulder seems distant, even under the strain of holding up his head. He lost himself to the world, focusing only on the feel of her lips on his. After what seemed like forever, but nowhere near long enough, it ended. He fell back to the pillow, allowing himself one more look before succumbing to exhaustion. 

Esmeralda 

In any other situation, she would have burst out laughing at being told a line about being shot in the heart. She supposed that she could give him a pass after standing up to Frollo, saving a family from a burning home, and losing an awful lot of blood. 

Plus, the look on his face was more earnest than she expected from him. A soldier. Ex-soldier, as he put it. She had spent more time than she cared to admit trying to push him from her mind. She had thought his kindness and charm in the cathedral were tricks, ways to fool her into a false sense of security. She had ignored the feeling in her gut that told her he was sincere. After all, he probably wanted what all men seem to want. She told herself he would have done anything to get that before arresting her. 

However, it had become clear that it hadn’t been an act. He was good. Here was a man that did the brave thing, the right thing- even when it meant death. Nevermind that he seemed to effortlessly put her at ease despite herself. Nevermind that he was funny, and handsome. All the thoughts whirling in her head disappeared when the way he looked at her felt like heat pooling in her chest. 

It was hard to miss his glance at her lips. She looked at his too, and was consumed by the desire to know what they felt like on hers. How had this near stranger ignited such feelings of hope? The idea of being in love, and finding someone to live a life with suddenly seemed so real- so… in reach. She would have laughed at the naivety, but something in his eyes held her like gravity. 

And like gravity, she felt herself pulled down towards him. When his lips met hers, she wondered if this is what home felt like. Struck by the intensity of the feeling, she quickly tamped it down. It’s only the first kiss. Instead she focused on the tenderness with which he kissed her. She became lost in the depth of emotion that seemed to pour from him into her. 

She felt his hand squeeze hers gently, the rough palms felt so strong against her skin. They were cool, still chilled from the river. She knew hers must be as well. 

Far too soon, it ended. When his eyes closed, spent from the exertion, her hand cupped his face. She couldn’t remember the last time the loneliness in her heart hadn’t been there. It was nice to feel the gentle caress of hope instead.

Chapter Text

“Esme…. How- why are you walking right now?” Phoebus made a mad rush to her from where he unpacked a trunk of his things as she entered the small room. Seeing her on her feet with only thin bandages separating raw burns from the ground had him concerned about her picking up infection from the street. “This is why your feet haven’t healed all the way yet.”

Not able to hide the wince in her face from the sting of her scorched feet on the ground, she tried to reply with some snark, “Usually walking is how I get from place to place.” 

“Well obviously, but…Do you have any shoes?”

Inhaling, she had to remind herself to be patient. He probably had little concept about how people of little means had to live, “Shoes are expensive.”

Phoebus flicked his eyes to hers, unsure of how to express the assumptions he had made about her income. “Yes, I know… I had just thought- uhm that-”

“That what?” She finally took a seat on the worn chair in the tiny apartment he had managed to procure. Luckily, a local blacksmith happened to be the father of Miller's wife. He had offered a spare room and a position as an apprentice. Phoebus happily accepted, glad to have a professional direction so quickly. 

“I was under the impression that you did alright… I mean I remember seeing lots of coins in your hat that day and the stage at the festival was practically littered with money…” He spoke fast, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. 

Tilting her head at him, she pondered for a minute. “Not all of that goes to me…some goes to the musicians and the people who work behind the scenes. But… Yes, I do make more than others in the Court. I just always find something else to spend it on, something more important.” 

He quirked a brow, a suspicion creeping in his mind. “Other people?”

“Perhaps.” She smirked at him, amused with his ability to figure it out so quickly. 

“Well, who takes care of you?” Phoebus met her eyes with earnest curiosity. 

She met his eyes with some degree of defensiveness. After all, she was used to people thinking she needed someone- a man usually- to take manage her. “What makes you think I need someone to take care of me?” 

He leaned back, raising his hands in a supplicating gesture. “That’s not what I was getting at… I just meant- well-”

“Well, what?”

After a quick glance, Phoebus slowly reached for her hands. They were a bit coarse on the palms, but graceful and warm. “Doing everything by yourself sounds hard. It is hard. Speaking from experience, I wish I had someone who looked out for me.”

His words wrenched her heart painfully. Her voice became softer, quiet, as she replied, “I get by.”

“Obviously,” he smiled at her. She fought hard to shove down the butterflies that took flight in her belly at that crooked grin. 

She stood again, wobbling slightly at the sting. He just picked her up, and set her on the table. “Hey! I’m fine!” 

He mouthed her words, bobbing his head as he mocked her tone. When she raised a brow he said, “Just because you're fine on your own doesn’t mean someone can’t look out for you. And I plan on doing so.” He paused, noting her lack of expression. “If you’re okay with it, that is.” 

A smile broke through her stony expression. “Are you going to let me look out for you?” 

“I insist that you do. I’d be lost without you.” He leaned forward, asking silently for permission with a look in his eyes. At her small nod, he pressed a light kiss to her nose before slotting his lips over hers. She sighed into his kiss, not quite believing how much it made her feel. The way he wrapped his arms around her made her feel safer than she wanted to admit. His hand cupping the back of her head felt so tender, so reverent, it was hard to believe he had been a soldier. 

Esmeralda splayed a hand over his cheek, brushing a thumb over the soft skin. She pulled away to just a breath away, “You’re not going to get all weird and over attentive are you? Because that will-”

He huffed, “God, no. I think I’d feel like I’m babysitting you if I did that. You’re a grown woman.” 

“Yes. Yes, I am.” She pressed her lips to his again. 

He pulled away this time, “That being said, if you are doing things that put yourself at risk or neglect your wellbeing- I will say something.” He gave her a pointed look, knowing somehow that she would do exactly that. 

She smirked at him, “Same to you, soldier-boy.” 

…

About three days later, Esmeralda finally was able to walk far enough to purchase and deliver some food to some orphans she was fond of. Only, when she found them, they were already halfway through devouring a basket of fruits, cheese, and bread. 

“Where did you get all this?!” She exclaimed upon seeing their spread of food. 

They exchanged grins amongst each other, “We aren’t allowed to tell you.” 

Esmeralda cocked her head, thoroughly confused, “Why wouldn’t you be allowed to tell me?”

“We promised.” 

“Promised who?” She asked, an inkling of their identity creeping into her mind. 

They giggled, one child saying in a very proper voice, “We can only say that it was a very handsome stranger.”

“He also said that you’re pretty and smart, but we aren’t supposed to tell you that.” Another said in a fit of laughter, rolling onto their back. 

Shaking her head, Esmeralda gave a playful chide, “How could you let a handsome stranger take my place, hmm? And, keep secrets for him?” 

They looked to the oldest among them, “He’s been helping us for weeks now. Sometimes, he even plays with us! He’s really funny.”

“How did he find out about you?” Esmeralda asked in a quiet voice. 

“He said he overheard some talk and realized you haven’t been able to help us because of your feet. We were okay though! Some other people helped us and we each got some money from the Archdeacon for helping to clean up a… a mess.” The oldest glanced at the others before adding, “He said you just needed some help.” 

Smiling through the gloss of moisture forming in her eyes, she said, “I did.” 

When she arrived back at her room in the Court of Miracles, she found herself in a thoughtful daze. It took her some time before she found the new pair of simple black shoes resting on her bed.

Chapter Text

“Esme, I need you to know that I love you.” The hoarse whisper scratched its way out of his throat. “Please don’t…don’t forget me.”

Esmeralda stood before him, holding a bowl of snow and a bag of supplies slung over her shoulder. With one brow arched high she replied, “When I pulled an arrow out of your chest, you were cracking jokes and delivering cliché pick-up lines. You have a cold a little worse than moderate, and you are on your deathbed?”

 “Much worse than moderate.  And if I recall correctly, that line worked.” Phoebus finished his statement with a thorough coughing fit. The end of which Esmeralda didn’t entirely trust as genuine. 

Rolling her eyes, she set down her things on the floor at the head of his bed. The back of her hand immediately moved to his forehead to test his temperature as soon as she took a seat on the bed next to him. “Good lord, you’re burning up.” 

“Told you. I’m on death’s doorstep.” The rasp in his voice sounded downright painful. “I wish you happiness with whomever you find to replace me. But, not too much happiness.” 

Huffing with poorly concealed amusement, Esmeralda dipped her hands into the bowl of snow for several moments. When her fingertips were nearing the point of pained numbness, she removed them and swiftly cupped her hands around his neck. 

“Hmmmmmmmmmm,” the sound rumbled in his chest at the relief of her cold hands. “That’s good stuff.” 

Esmeralda held her hands there until they had been rewarmed by the fever heating Phoebus’s skin. He was quiet while she did so, soothed not just by the pleasant change in temperature- but also by the soft strokes of her thumb along his neck. A whine escaped his lips when she pulled away. 

“You need to sit up for a bit, I can hear the sludge pooling in your throat when you breathe.” She shoved a waded blanket under his pillow to provide support as he managed to scoot his way up. 

He thanked her quietly before watching her turn to the small fireplace that had not yet been lit. Esmeralda set to work starting a small kindling flame upon which to heat the stew she had prepared before coming over. While he was admittedly breathing better upon sitting up, Phoebus was disappointed to find that he was still too stuffed up to smell the aroma now wafting through the air. He liked the smell of her stew. 

Instead he watched through lidded eyes as she stirred periodically. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had tended to him when he was ill. It dawned on him with some sadness that the last time was probably when he was still a small child. The few times his mother would steal away to his room in the night to make sure he wasn’t overtaken by fever. The man he called father disliked her showing him affection. Apparently it made a man too soft. 

He couldn’t help but think that maybe softness was a good thing. Even if he revolved from wanting it to last as long as possible to feeling a bit uncomfortable in a single strain of thought. The idea of her waiting on him was concerning, especially since it was not her norm to do so. 

“Thank you.” The words came out in a scratchy whisper. 

She turned to him as she ladled a serving of stew into a bowl. “You’re welcome. What for?” 

“Coming over and tending to me. You didn’t need to…”  

She made a dismissive noise before handing him the bowl and a spoon. “I trust you don’t need me to hold the spoon for you?” He shook his head with a smirk before taking it. She would never admit it, but his hum of satisfaction at her cooking filled her with a particular warmth. “If you get to buy me shoes and listen to me moaning about my problems, I get to take care of you when you are sick.” 

“I don’t want you to get sick either.” He offered between bites, “This is miserable.” 

She leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms. With a sly smile, she said, “The way we were necking the other night, I think it’s a matter of time for me anyways. You’ll have your chance to repay the favor.” 

“That was an excellent evening,” He winked at her before setting down his now empty bowl. Leaning back on the pillow, he sighed, “I’m going to tend to you so well, you’ll pretend to be sick all the time.” 

“Oh, I’m counting on it.” Esmeralda leaned towards him to press her lips to the clammy skin of his temple. Unsatisfied with the excessive heat that still radiated from him, she placed her hands back into the bowl of now melted snow. Still cold enough to do the trick, she now held his head between the cool skin of her palms. 

“Where did you learn this trick? It’s magnificent.” He hummed in a way that would sound suggestive in any other situation. 

“Clopin would do this whenever I got sick as a child.” 

“Tell him I think I love him.” He laughed at himself before looking up at her. “Not as much as I love you though.” 

“You still on your deathbed?” Esmeralda asked, sliding her hands down to his chest. 

A small smile danced on his lips before saying, “I think under your expert care, I may yet pull through.” 

“Perfect, because I have one trick left to use.” 

His brow quirked, “Oh? What is that?” 

Instead of answering, Esmeralda stood and walked out the door without her cloak. She stood on the stairs, allowing the cold winter air to blow across her cheeks and arms. When she was shivering from the frigid wind, she stepped back inside. She shuffled quickly back to Phoebus and crawled into bed with him.

Wrapping his arms around her, he mumbled against her hairline, “ That seems like torturing yourself for my benefit.” 

“Maybe I like the cuddling.” She cleared her throat and added, “I can also feel a fever coming on and wanted to anyway.” 

While their laughter did end up dissolving into a coughing fit, the pair fell into a sleep as good as could be expected from a cold slightly worse than moderate.