A festival of fools indeed, Frollo thought, glaring out at the crowd gathered in front of him

A festival of fools indeed, Frollo thought, glaring out at the crowd gathered in front of him. each and every person here was dancing about like an idiot, led by the mad "king" of the gypsies, Clopin Trouillefou.

Frollo hated everything about Trouillefou, from the tip of the bright yellow feather in his hat to the stupid little bells on his shoes. Not only did he poison the minds of otherwise innocent children, but he dared stir up the adults into this disgusting little celebration of sin. It was positively sickening how anyone could allow themselves to be mutated into this pitiful state by a common gypsy.

And now Trouillefou dared to touch him? Yes, there he was, dripping confetti all over Frollo's pristine black robes as he clung to his arm, singing about a La Esmeralda who was to dance before the crowd. No matter, Frollo thought disdainfully, brushing the confetti off his sleeve in disgust. A dancer, only more filth to drag this motley collection of vermin even further into the abyss they were falling into. Merely some girl.

Some girl indeed.

The moment Esmeralda appeared onstage, Frollo was entranced by the vision who appeared. The sun gleamed off her bronze flesh and night black hair like flames. Her scarlet skirts whipped around shapely ankles, giving tantalizing glimpses at what lay beneath it. The judge felt the fire within the allure of her emerald gaze scorching into his soul.

In a desperate attempt to tear his eyes away from the witch and allow his soul a chance to resist her spell, Frollo turned to his Captain of the Guard, whose weak mind had already been ensnared. "Look at that disgusting display," he sneered, with little real conviction to his irritation.

"Yes sir!" replied Phoebus enthusiastically. Idiot. He lacked the strong soul necessary to resist the gypsy girl's evils. But then, wouldn't that mean Frollo too was weak?

However, even a man with the strongest of souls would find it impossible to defy what the witch dared to do next. She cartwheeled off the stage, right into Frollo's lap. She bore the heat of the fire from whence she had come, he could feel it even through her dress and his robe… oh, why must these clothes be in his way? She leaned down towards him, pulling him forward with her violet scarf and pressing her luscious lips to his nose. He leaned towards her more in spite of himself, longing to feel Esmeralda's kiss where he wanted it, but she leapt away and jammed his chaperon onto his head, blocking his vision. Enraged, he pushed his chaperon back up and tore the scarf from around his neck as the girl finished her dance by spinning down a guard's pole.

Frollo's breath came ragged as the scene he had just witnessed replayed unbidden over and over in his mind. A burning, sinful emotion that was completely foreign to him filled every fiber of his body. He knew what it was, however, and it terrified him beyond belief.

Lust.

It seemed impossible that he would ever have these feelings for any woman, let along a girl half his age from the race he had waged war on for over years. Yet, there they were, burning flames of desire already licking at his soul, the soul that had until moments ago been purer than anything in this city. He longed to feel her lips against his, to see what lay beneath that red gown, to let his pale, bony fingers caress every supple curve of her body—

"It's the bell ringer from Notre Dame!" came a cry from the crowd, snapping Frollo out of those forbidden thoughts. He rose from his throne in dismay, and sure enough, there was Quasimodo on the stage, even though Frollo had expressly prohibited him from ever leaving the bell tower due to his disgusting deformity. And he had been correct! The crowd was whispering in panic about how repulsive the hunchback was. Frollo felt an enormous surge of satisfaction as Quasimodo attempted to hide his face in his hands. Had he not warned him this would happen? Had the hunchback not been told that normal people would despise him on sight because he was so horrifically ugly?

But Trouillefou dared to warp the minds of the crowd for the hideous hunchback's benefit. "Ladies and gentlemen, don't panic!" he announced, leaping onto the stage to quell the throng's panicked whispers. "We asked for the ugliest face in Paris and here he is! Quasimodo, the Hunchback of Notre Dame!"

The whole rabble's outlook immediately transformed. The bell ringer was hoisted up into a throne, carried by a pair of gypsies in outrageous costumes, and lauded by everyone in attendance. Everyone, that is, except for Frollo, who still sat seething in his throne, furious at being defied.

First he had been contaminated with the gypsy's curse of desire, then he was forced to deal with Quasimodo's rebellion. Today was just not Frollo's day.

Little did he know that this was just the beginning of a rapid downward spiral, and that it would all begin to get far, far worse.