The sun was at it's peak when the bells began to toll. Their chimes echoed for miles, scattering unsuspecting birds and raising onlookers gazes skyward. Down below, the streets were bustling with foot traffic and staged kiosks for tonight's festival. A festival for fools, traditionally held on the first day of a new year.

Today was no different for this gypsy. She would don her costume, mount the stage with a royal purple silk sash, and dance everyone into a oblivion. Some called it seduction, other's said it was magic, and for the more pious kind, claimed she had beguiled them. Withal, she was only there for the gold tossed on stage.

The gypsy veered away from the heavy traffic and drew the hood over her head closer, shielding her face from onlookers. Her only compeer was a small white billy goat that she had for years who idled by her side as she reached under her cloak to retrieve a coin sack. She loosened the tie at the top and widened the open.

"Just enough to eat for tonight," she muttered as she eyed it's contents. She fastened it again and returned the bag into her pouch. The bells had finally stilled, leaving just the hum of chatter from those around her. The occasional clunking of horses passed by with the rickety groans of wagons in tow. All this thrummed together in one smooth coalescence.

Soon, the gypsy would have to re-enter to courtyard. Half of her longed to be on stage, to be dancing freely; the other half wanted to remain in the shadows until night fall.

"Gypsy filth…," they'd sneer. "Thieves!"

Sure, she had her way of toiling trinkets and treasures but only to those who wronged her or rightfully deserved it. They had it coming, she'd yell back as she fled with their items. The hour was upon her and now she needed to start dancing, entertaining, and most of all, enjoying herself. For years in her travels, she participated in festivities where she danced and danced until her euphoria permeated the air that could be . Today would be no different. Somewhere in the midst, Clopin had arranged a tent for her to ready for the evening performances.

As if on cue, the entire courtyard exploded into music and cheer. Horns blew while children ran passed the gypsy with the sound of instruments clashing together. The gypsy came out of the dark alley and rounded the brick corner. Perching on her toes, she peered over the heads of those around her. Sure enough, the festival was starting and she needed to get ready to perform.

The gypsy rushed into the crowd, blending into the flood of patrons, peasants, and nobles. Confetti perpetually rained from above as the gypsy reached her tent and began getting undressed. The music was fast-paced and excited, seeming almost tangible in the air as she slipped her gown on. She kicked off her slippers and linked a gold bracelet around her ankle. It jingled as she maneuvered around her makeshift dressing room. Just when she was about finished up, a disruptive sound averted her attention at the mouth of the tent just as a man spilled into the area from outside, almost as if he was tossed through the entrance.

The gypsy cried out in surprise as the stranger attempted to gather themselves off the floor.

"Are you alright?" She knelt, trying to help him up.

"No!" He stammered, swatting her hands away. He staggered back while looking around for the exit while managing to keep the gypsy from seeing his face.

"Please, let me help." She took him by the wrist gently and pulled him to his feet. "You're not hurt, are you?" Her fingers brushed off dirt that clung to his navy robe while her eyes began searching for any injuries.

"Please, no. I'm fine." He said again, trying to shield his face from her sight. His callused fingers tugged gingerly at the hem of his hood with his shoulders hunkering downward.

The gypsy reached beneath, cupping him under his chin and forcing him to look up at her. Her vivid green eyes met that of his, and immediately his resistance diminished.

From what she could tell, there was no obvious damage. The young man was merely embarrassed and frightened to be in a woman's dressing quarters. His fool's mask was also impeccable, the best she'd seen thus far.

"See?" She smiled, "No harm done. Just try to be more careful." The gypsy tucked a lock of red hair back from his face as she led him by his hand towards the opening of the tent. "See you around." Another sincere smile.

He returned it with a meekness the gypsy adored.

"By the way," she called out to him with a wink, "Great mask!"

It was time for the her to perform as she crawled onto the back area of the stage. There she waited for the jester of tonight's festival, Clopin, to sing her name out.

"Beat the drums and blow the trumpets!" His voice rang out over the ecstatic crowd. The cheers were deafening ; to the point the gypsy could barely make out if her cue was ready.

The cymbals clashed as Clopin bellow, "Come one! Come all! Hurry, hurry here's your chance! See the mystery and romance! Come one! Come All! See the finest girl in France. Make an entrance to entrance! Dance La Esmeralda!"

She looked up from her spot under the stage, Clopin's feet were right above her, his fist raised high, clenching tightly until swiftly he threw the item down. A cloud of pink smoke exploded beneath him, swallowing him whole. The crowd gasped until the mist disappeared and in his place was the gypsy dancer, Esmeralda.

In a vibrant red gown, a purple silk sash tied around her tiny waist, and barefooted, the black-headed gypsy with the emerald green eyes swirled about the stage. Her hips twitching to the song while she bounced the tambourine against her thigh. Eventually, she discarded the instrument somewhere along the crowd and pirouetted about the stage. Esmeralda spotted the young man from earlier, hiding in the crowd, the same demure along his smile and she returned it gladly. What she hadn't descried was the menacing black-clad judge at the head of the stage she performed upon. Submersed in the shadows, his eyes bore straight into Esmeralda while she danced. He didn't appear to be enjoying the show, that or he had an excellent way of hiding it. Come what may, Esmeralda didn't allow this to tarnish her high.

Esmeralda knew plenty about the Judge Claude Frollo, never having seen him in the flesh, but she knew he wasn't favorable as far as the gypsies were concerned. Today was a festival for fools, however. There was no sense in the chip on the shoulder, not with the comically chaos that reigned all around. Esmeralda spiraled about, catching eyes with Judge Frollo once again. She saw his lips moving with distaste as he spoke to a nearby Captain, ne'er removing his eyes from her. Even the celestial roll to her hips credited no reaction on his behalf. This confused the gypsy, for as long as she could recall, her strength was the weakness in man; a beautiful woman graceful and light on her feet.

The music stopped abruptly and so did the gypsy.

Esmeralda decided to bring it a little closer for Judge Frollo's convenience. She slowly stated for the minister of justice, sauntering towards him while he watched her gait like a hawk. She reached him toe-to-toe, and casually climbed into his lap, straddling both sides of his hips with her powerful thighs. The look of horror struck his face quench Esmeralda's curiosity, he was no different than any other man, just with the right push. Now he was pinned between shock and awe, stammering in a bewildered plight. Esmeralda took the silken sash from her waist and tossed it around the back of Frollo's neck. She fisted the ends and yanked him forward, crushing her mouth against his. The music sprang back to life once their lips met followed by the crowds cheers and bellows; to much of her surprise, his jaw slacked, allowing her wet tongue to dart in and taste his own, coaxing out the desire he had so adamantly hidden. Her tanned hands came up to cup his hard jaw as she tasted him. She felt the judge mumble something against her mouth, a moan perhaps? But before he could indulge himself more, she pulled away and shoved his chaperon hat down onto his face.

She was already off his lap and across the stage before he could pull his hat up and correct himself. From where she danced, she noticed one hand held his hat in place while the other clutched blindly at the front of his robe.

Esmeralda met his cold gaze once more while a smile crept up her still pouty and flushed lips, wet from his tongue. The kiss lingered along her mouth while she continued to dance. The show ended with her confiscating a soldier's spear, jamming it into the stage floor, and spiraling down upon it until the sky rained golden coins. One more glance at the judge, she allowed herself. He'd been watching her even more closely after she stole a kiss. She winked and began gathering the gold that littered the stage.

Clopin reappeared as she cleaned the stage of coins, excited to claim this years festival of fools' new King of Fools. Esmeralda initiated the contest by pulling men onto the stage. All were dressed in their most ridiculous attire and costumes. This is when she spotted the young man from earlier. He was near the right side of the stage when she found him. She reached out and he gladly took her hand. Carefully, she helped him onto the stage then lined him up with the rest of the contestants.

Forthwith, and one by one, she began removing the mask while the men tried for the most grotesque mien they could administer, but the crowd heckled and bellowed, sending the contestants into the mud down below. Finally Esmeralda reached the young man who fell into her tent, but when she grabbed the side of his jowls and pulled, the mask did not remove itself. In fact, it wasn't a mask at all.

She let go immediately and gasped in horror. Her hands came over her mouth out of mere reflex while she stepped back.

The crowd mirrored her surprise and voiced their own opinions.

"That's no mask!" A voice cried out, "that's a man!"

A woman screamed while more collection of people gasped in awe.

"Look at his face!" One gawked.

"He's hideous!" Another exclaimed.

"That's the bell ringer from Notre Dame!"

Esmeralda had already disappeared into the back once the man, who she now discovered to be Quasimodo, had been crowned the King of Fools. She changed from her stage clothes to her regular attire, a white tunic tucked into a lilac skirt. The crowd was still cheering at the new crowned King of Fools, but while she ran her fingers through the thick tresses of her hair, the aura from the festival shifted. Her hands slowed down while she listened to the mass of voices from outside. Like a shadow cast across the square, the cheers came to a unsteady silence. A man was shouting, women began to gasp. Something didn't sit well with the gypsy dancer as she turned and threw open the flaps of the tent. With haste, she pushed through the crowd until the center platform came to view.

When her emerald eyes devoured the scene before her, her stomach twisted painfully, things had definitely took a turn for the worst.

Quasimodo, the man who rang the bells, was now tied down by ropes while the citizens, who just moments ago cheered for his anointment, now threw spoiled produce at him.

"Master!" He cried as the onslaught continued. "Master, please!" The wheel he was subjected to began to turn, rotating him around so that every patron had a chance to strike him with thrown items.

Esmeralda had seen enough and reacted with heed and wrath.

She shoved her way through the crowd until she was mounting the stairs in seconds. The laughter and chaos ceased when the entire courtyard observed her slowly approach the King of Fools, Quasimodo. He was sobbing and trembling. His body was marred with mold and fluid from the food thrown against him.

Esmeralda untied the scarf from her waist and spoke, "Don't be afraid." Even her voice shook with emotion, one that she could not place.

Quasimodo glanced up at her, wounded from humiliation. His arms were pinned behind him at an unnatural position, she could only imagine the pain as she knelt beside him.

"I'm sorry this happened." She reached down with the scarf around her fingers, she began cleaning the mess from his cheek. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"You!" A voice rang out across the crowd, "Gypsy girl! Get down at once!"

She knew where the voice was coming from, and hoped it didn't belong to her first guess. Her eyes panned over the top of the crowd until settling upon the Minister of Justice.

Judge Frollo was on his feet, glaring with malicious intent with his mouth was drawn taut with anger.

Esmeralda stood back up and responded, "Yes, Your Honor. As soon as I free this poor creature."

"I forbid it!" He slashed through the air with the back of his hand.

Anger began boiling in Esmeralda's blood. She produced a dagger from beneath her skirt and began sawing at the confining ropes around Quasimodo.

"How dare you defy me!" Yelled the judge.

Esmeralda helped Quasimodo to his feet, placing the knife back in her garter.

"Mark my words, gypsy. You will pay for this insolence."

"Then it appears we've crowned the wrong fool." She jeered. Esmeralda turned to Quasimodo, yanked the makeshift jester hat from head, and tossed it across the ground. The crown landed at the foot of the minister's platform.

"Captain Phoebus, arrest this woman at once!" The judge growled without removing his eyes from her.

Esmeralda had to think on her feet as the soldier's began to hone in on her. Did they really intend to arrest her for freeing this tortured man? Was this allowed?

The crowd parted around the soldiers and their horses until all sides of Esmeralda were flanked by men. She had no where to go and no tricks up her sleeve for once in her life.

A blonde captain trudged up the steps, "Come with us ma'am." He seemed disappointed and reluctant to arrest her but did so by orders of the Judge.

"You can't do this." She said in a hushed tone, trying to reason with the Captain of the Guard. "I have done nothing wrong." Esmeralda tried meeting with his eyes, but he repudiated any attempts.

The Captain respired to himself as he took hold of her by the arm, he steered her off the stage and escorted her to the Palace of Justice.

*l*ll*l*ll*l*ll*l*ll*l*ll*l*ll*l*ll

Judge Claude Frollo was retiring in his quarters when a knocking came at the door.

"Come in," he said.

Carefully, the door opened; from the other side, a soldier emerged. "Sir, we have the gypsy."

"Good." Frollo absentmindedly readjusted his robe as he stared out of the window. The sun was setting in Paris and the city was calming down from the evenings festival. "Bring her to me."

A foreboding feeling had overcome him, and he believed at this point that he assumed he had been spellbound; that the gypsy girl had cast a trance on him the moment their lips met. A burning he had never felt before ignited within him, a yearning to taste her, to feel her had seized his sense, turning ablaze within him to a scorching massacre.

Frollo couldn't think of anything else but the green-eyed gypsy who captivated his soul.

Without realizing, his hands fisted, closing in on themselves until his knuckles bore white. Just thinking about the festival in which she clamored onto his lap like a snake slithering through the hot sand. Smooth, effortless, natural. The proximity that was devoured between the two of them was more than the judge could handle, or had ever.

He heard the chamber door close and the sound of the soldier's footsteps begin to retreat, leaving Frollo, once again, alone with thoughts of the gypsy woman, and the rapture that came with. The fragrance that followed with her still lingered on his court robe. Ever so often, he's nose would catch it's intoxicating aroma, flare his nostrils and seize him in the spell he so adamantly fought. It was, indeed, a losing battle. One he had never conquered previously, never knew the battle that she had ensued within him.

Her kiss had seared him down to his soul, scorching the purity away and replacing it with lust and carnivorous sin. Frollo cast his glare to the flame burning in the fireplace. He reached up into his robe and retrieved the silk scarf she had left in his lap. Wrapping it around his hand, he pressed the fabric against his lips and inhaled until his lungs could take in no more.

When he closed his eyes he could see her onyx hair and the burning gaze she gave him at the parade. He needed to pray, to wash away the impure thoughts she had planted in his soul.

"Gypsy witch," he growled into the purple silk. He brought the scarf down from his face and glared at it. "Is this God's plan?" His dark eyes drifted to night sky that had taken a hold of Paris. The evening was coming to a calming end, even though today was far more abstract than ever before.

What was taking the men so long to bring her to him?

Rubbing the purple sheer fabric between his fingers, he gave it one last brush with his lips before tossing it into the blaze before him. His eyes watched as the suns and stars that decorated the material wither against the inferno before charring and converting to ash. He had made it too far to be hindered by a gypsy witch. He turned from the fire to seek out his chaperon hat. The guardsmen were either taking a lengthy detour, or something had interfered.

The judge donned his hat and exited the chamber.

*l*ll*l*ll*l*ll*l*ll*l*ll*l*ll*l*ll

The door to her holding cell was all but kicked open.

"On your feet, gypsy." The soldier barked.

Esmeralda squinted against the sudden flood of light from the outside corridor, her shackled hands came up to shield her eyes when they entered in pairs. One grabbed her from the left and the other had her right. Together, they yanked her to her feet and escorted her out the holding cell and up a spiraling stone staircase after removing the shackles around her wrists.

"Where are you taking me?" She inquired with coy curiosity as they marched up the stone steps.

"The judge wants to see you." The other soldier replied.

Immediately, her thoughts jumped back to the moment she had climbed onto his lap and kissed him. What the hell was she thinking? Not only did she display that entirety to the city of Paris, now she was going to be humiliated before the judge and who knew what else. A punishment for her public behavior, most likely.

As the three began their ascent to the ground floor from the dungeons, a thought struck the gypsy maiden. As if someone one had whispered in her ear, Esmeralda nearly had forgotten the dagger still strapped to her thigh. Although, both arms were carelessly handled by the guards on either side of her, she had a few tricks to get them off, and onto their butts, sparing enough time for her to bolt into hiding. They reached the height of the stairs and proceeded along a narrow hall.

Esmeralda waited until they reached a dark stretch between torches along the hallway before she yanked her arms without warning, she dropped down onto the plush carpet as soon as the men reacted. They swung their arms, grabbing at the empty darkness while she scampered towards the side of the hallway. Esmeralda got to her feet and pressed her back against the stone wall while the men shouted and bumped into another.

"Grab a torch, you fool!" One bellowed. The sound of scuffing feet and clanking armor came towards Esmeralda. Her hand blindly sought against the wall behind her until her fingers came to grasping a door knob. She twisted it and push, slinking into a new layer of darkness.

When her eyes finally adjusted she found herself in another narrow hallway with windows on the right, and a few doors on her left, at the end of the corridor was another door. Without hesitation, she ran forward. Her bare feet but whispers along the carpet as she raced to the end. Faltering for a brief moment, she glanced outside to see what could be found. There was no courtyard on the other side, or even a sidewalk, but a sheer drop over looking a garden a few hundred feet down below. She couldn't smash the window and scale down without breaking at least one bone.

Esmeralda quickly tossed the idea and ran to the door at the far end of the hall. She reached forward, ready to yank it open, but it the knob pulled away from her touch, slipping from her grasp. Her foot caught the carpet in the attempt to stop and pitched her forward, plummeting into the yawning darkness.