The Princess of Notre Dame

but let the blade be sharp

Sun streamed blindingly through the stained glass, refracting off of the stories of the sinners and saints. The light rested gently upon a figure who gazed without really looking out the window. High above everyone else, she watched her execution get set up. The blade moved to its highest position awaiting her neck below it. And the sun glinted harshly off it. Nearly blinding her approaching maid. The girl gave no hint of turning or of caring as her fate played out before her. Finally, at the sound of pounding footsteps on the cold stone, she looked back toward her maid, her eyes dull with acceptance.

"I suppose it's time."

Her maid frantic approached her and grabbed her hands,

"Please run! I will stay behind, they can have me but you're innocent! You can't let them kill you!"

"It's fine Claire,"

"It is not fine! You are too kind for such a fate to befall you. God must be dead."

The girl let out a laugh then and grinned at her loyal maid, "Careful Claire, or you will be branded a heretic too." The maid laughed with her master, but the girl's grin fell as quickly as it came and she looked towards the stained glass in despair. "God has always been dead."

The door burst open and two knights led by her supposed loyal guard came to lead her to her cruel fate. With his sword pointed toward his former master the knight shouted, "Princess Quinley Quincy Quesadilla Skywalker Remington you are hereby sentenced to death on account of high treason and heresy!"

The accompanying knights went forward and grabbed at her arms to push and shove her towards the stairs. Claire rushed ahead grabbing the first knight's arm.

"Wait! Please Sir Lancelot you cannot do this, she is innocent. Surely you know this."

Lancelot shook off Claire, "She should have died long ago before she could ruin everything." He said a sneer on his face.

The knights who had waited for Sir Lancelot turned back towards the stairs, their grip tightening on her arms. And it made Quinley wonder if her body would still bruise when she was dead. They led her roughly down the steps, Quinley tripping on her gown as she tried to keep up with their fast steps. As they went Sir Lancelot spit insults at her and with each word of his, her steps grew heavier.

"You are a filthy thing not even deserving of your status."

"How could you curse this kingdom with just your presence?"

"You are swine you vulgar little maggot!"

And with each insult, he got angrier at her not turning back to look at him, at her lack of reaction. He was outraged that she could just accept it all. So the words kept flowing and his anger built. At the bottom of the stairs, the chapel behind them, and the doors leading to her death in front of them she finally turned. The knight's harsh hold loosened, and she stood up straight, looking more like a leader than the King. Sir Lancelot held her empty gaze and his anger dissipated and the remorse he felt filled that well instead. The shame of it all weighed him down but he held his head high. And yet, as though not satisfied with his cruel remarks he carried on.

"I hope the blade is dull." He spits the words like fire on his tongue.

But no anger took hold of her face, instead her seemingly hollow eyes squinted in pity at him. Like it was him on the way to the end and not her, as though he was beyond help, reaching out her unrestrained hand she took his trembling one. Her hands were cold, he noted, like she was already gone.

"It's okay Sir Lancelot. I forgive you."

And her hand fell from his as she turned away to walk toward her fate. Not sparing a glance at him. For the forgiveness was not for him but for her. Sir Lancelot stood there frozen by her grace, his guilt making him immobile. The other two knights did not grab her arms again, a new respect for this Princess they had never seen in their hearts. They gave her a walk of honor past the crowds, booing and hissing at her, but as she passed, those in the front quieted down. Everyone had thought that the hidden princess was ugly, They had never realized she would be beautiful. And now she was going to die, what a waste they whispered.

At the end of the path and the bottom of the stairs of the gallows, the knights that had escorted her knelt in reverence, causing those who saw the scene to gasp and murmur about it.

She turned back towards the platform and with a confidence she had only acquired in the face of death walked the wooden steps alone. Each of her steps became lighter as though God had finally shown Her face and was lifting her away from this hell. At the top of the platform she stood and looked out at the once jeering subjects, much quieter now out of reverence for the dead. They had gathered for the entertainment of it all, and those in the back were still crying for justice.

She glanced behind her to see who of the royal family had even decided to show up. The King was staring straight ahead, looking as if he was not there, while the Queen was in distress soft sobs escaping her as she clasped onto her husband's hand for comfort. How ridiculous she thought, you never cared before. None of her 'beloved' siblings had sparred their time of day to come to see her final breaths.

The announcer interrupted her thoughts,

"Second Princess Quinley Quincy Quesadilla Skywalker Remington. You are hereby stripped of your title for the attempted assassination of the Crown Prince! And for the crime of bringing God's damnation upon our Kingdom for your sins! Your name will be purged from the imperial family charter and forgotten! Step up to the executioner block and meet your fate!"

The Queen began to wail loudly then and Quinley turned to the right, not bearing to see someone cry for her. Not when it was too late. But there, the man who haunted her waking world sat. Priest Frollo Roach observed the spectacle with a sick grin on his face, looking pleased with it all. She shivered in disgust at the sight of him and the horrors he brought. She made her way towards the guillotine, almost tripping she realized that she had stepped on her executioner's foot.

"My apologies I didn't realize."

The duty-bound man gave a gruff nod in reply, an acceptance of her apology. She knelt carefully and laid her neck upon the wood. The blade above her made the reality of it all crash down upon her and she began to cry silently. The people closest quieted down startled by the lack of life in those eyes that flowed tears so fervently. In the distance there was a disturbance at the back of the crowd, three people running wildly with papers waving in their hands and shouting. As Quinley took a final look at the crowd she thought that they looked suspiciously like her siblings, but before anyone could hear their words over the cheering the blade swiftly struck her neck, hacking it off in one clean blow. Her final thoughts were, Lancelot won't be pleased before she sank into the deep depths of darkness that await us all when we die.

..

The siblings with evidence in their hands proving their little sister's innocence and Frollo's guilt stood in shock. The first Princess, Juliet, shook as they looked upon the detached head of their sister and her lifeless eyes. They were too late. Frozen in a state of shock everyone stood silent for a moment before all chaos broke out. The second Prince Elvis Remington launched over the platform and drew his blade at Frollo in a rage. He was unsuccessful as Sir Lancelot blocked his path.

Frollo stood outraged, "What is the meaning of all this?!"

Juliet came out of her shock and looked at the man who had stolen her family's joy from them. She raised her hand holding the evidence against him and declared.

"You Priest Frollo Roach are guilty of high treason, heresy, and defamation, as well as the attempted murder of a royal family member." The crowd gasped at this information and a knight handed over the evidence to a royal judge who looked it over quickly. With a cold look on his face, he motioned for the knights to take Frollo away. The knights advanced and began to drag him away, but Frollo resisted.

"This is ridiculous! I am being framed! Framed I tell you!" His protests were still heard as he was dragged away towards the underground prison.

The sky that had turned dark thundered and hail began to rain down in the middle of August. People went screaming in different directions and the Crown Prince Kent murmured to himself, "It's God's damnation for killing Her saint" With those words Kent who had just recovered collapsed and once again the square in front of the church was in chaos. But there was no longer someone to look down and watch over them from that beautiful window. For even God had seemed to abandon them.