Title: Red Sash
Summary: Frollo had Esmeralda's scarf. What did she have?
Genre: Romance/General
Rated: T
A/N: Just a little vignette I had to get out of my head. And yes, this is my 20th story!
Esmeralda pursed her lips. It certainly looked like it. It felt like it even, a silky velvety texture. But it couldn't possibly be it, could it? Djali had discovered somewhere in a rather shady area in the Court of Miracles. The goat then proceeded to send the scarlet piece of cloth to Esmeralda for closer inspection. Esmeralda had been surprised by the find. It was rare to find luxurious cloth like this. Especially luxurious cloth that might just very well belongs to him.
The gypsy girl proceeded to wind the sash around her hands. It possessed a rather sensual slithery nature to it. She wove it through her dainty fingers, relishing its softness. She wondered whether if he knew it was here. Assuming this red sash did belong to his triangular chaperon. Esmeralda mused on how it got there. Clopin must have been really sneaky to pinch it off of him. She smiled. The sash was a real thing of beauty. It was a vermillion snake, writhing through her slender fingers. Esmeralda must admit; he, at the very least, had a sense of style.
She giggled as she remembered how at times she would see this sash swishing behind him as he walked. She marveled at its grace as it flailed in the wind. It somehow completed him. Not that she would ever admit it to his face. She brought the sash up to her gorgeous green eyes. The redness of it reflected the sunlight and the iridescent effect nearly blinded her. It possessed a lovely sheen; an added plus to its satiny texture. Esmeralda sighed happily.
She wandered if the other gypsy women would be jealous if she began parading around with this. Esmeralda knew this would make a perfect hair scarf. She could gather her voluminous, spicy raven hair and cinch it up with this red glory. Since after all, red was her favorite color. It reminded her of phoenixes….
Soon her thoughts wandered to something else. Where was her original, patterned hair scarf? Recollecting, she remembered the Festival of Fools a year ago. She was prancing and twirling in front of an enthusiastic, cheering crowd. Everybody was captivated and enthralled by her gyrations and graceful movements. Everybody except one gloomy Gus.
"Look at that disgusting display." She remembered that displeased remark as if it were yesterday. Feeling a desire to tease the commenter, she leapt towards him and settled herself on his lap. His face held a look of shocked fear. She bent tenderly enough to kiss him gently on the nose before teasingly slamming his large chaperon over his dark eyes. Before doing so, she remembered looping her sheer, star-patterned scarf around his spindly neck and pulling him in. She had left her scarf to him. And now it seemed his red hat sash was all that's left of him. Esmeralda felt a faint twinge of pain in her heart. She was flabbergasted! Did she miss him? No, she couldn't possibly.
It had been a little over a year since his death. The gypsies, predictably, were celebrating it without a qualm in the world. Clopin, especially, seemed the most joyful. Now there was no one to stop him from hosting puppet shows in the streets or to call him a 'gypsy vermin'. Clopin and him had been bitter enemies due to his unwavering prejudice and abhorrence of gypsies. He had tortured them, hung them when they were innocent and generally looked at them like they were the filthiest scum in the universe. Yet, Esmeralda couldn't help feeling there was something missing.
She couldn't imagine the next Festival of Fools where he wasn't there, surveying the entire scene. At the next festival, there would be no one perched on his emerald throne, mentally insulting all the performers on their stupidity. Nobody for Clopin to mock and freak out. Nobody to ride through the alleys and examine the behavior of the gypsies. Nobody to be afraid of anymore. Strangely, Esmeralda now felt a huge foreboding darkness looming over her. Maybe she did miss him. He after all had been a significant part of her life. And she will never see him ever again.
She glanced at the red sash again. It was heaven to have it wound around her slender, tanned fingers. It was incredibly satiny. It was also her only memory of him. She would always remember how it blew in the breeze as he rode on his proud, frightening steed. How it accessorized his chaperon perfectly.
She brought it to her face and inhaled. It smelled of good port wine and a hint of smoke. It was very appropriate for a man like him. The sash somehow made her feel peaceful. As if she found a piece of him. He was a jigsaw puzzle to her at times. She often secretly sympathized him. A righteous man, corrupted by his power and pride. She knew not choosing him was a right decision. But if she had chose him, maybe she could make him her kind better and eventually he could accept them for whom they are.
She recalled the blazing fires. All those fires he set because he had loved her. He had loved her so much; it practically threw him to the brink of insanity. He wounded innocent lives, plundered and pillaged all for her. He even wanted to kill his own adopted son due to his delusional love for her. He even died because of his love for her. He even wanted her dead if she didn't love him for he'd rather her burnt to a crispy corpse than be wed to another man. The force of his love had been incredible! If not…. romantic.
Yes, she could have gone through all of last year without the riots, the burning, the bloody fights, the languishing in a dungeon and the death of so many but the fact that all this had been spawned of his fiery, passionate love for her was amazing. He sacrificed so much for her. Granted, what he sacrificed cost her friends, innocents and even his own life. Yet…she couldn't help feeling just a little bit flattered after thinking back.
She looked back at the red sash she had woven around her fingers. She unwove it and gathered her titian ebony hair. With a few maneuvers, she finally managed to knot the red sash around her hair and yanked it tight to secure it. She admired herself with a mirror she pulled from her bodice. She smiled
Red was always her favorite color.
Rest in Peace, she thought, as she tried to picture him still standing at the cathedral and wondering what became of his red sash.
I shall miss him after all.
A/N: If you think its rubbish, I don't care. I typed this at 12 midnight, ok!