Title: Craving
Summary: Lust was always a two-way street. Esmeralda could not shy away from this theory, simply because Frollo started everything. Women were at fault almost as much as men. That was the simple truth. Frollo/Esmeralda
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rated: T for language and suggestive themes
A/N: Don't own anything. Hope you like it.
Yes, let all the innocent Parisians and gypsies believe she would have nothing to do with him. Let them view her as a nubile, sweet girl whom only feared for her safety and wanted to annihilate that devilish monster. All the citizens cooed with sympathy and praise for her courage and all the excruciating events that had occurred. In their naïve, ill-informed eyes, she was the victim.
Sweet, pitiful, hunted gypsy girl.
Stalked and lusted after by that depravedly perverted and loathsome Minister of Justice. Erotic seduction and aristocratic lunacy had plagued and victimized her. Oh, everyone blamed the dear judge. The pitiful, repressed man had gone mad due to his unfulfilled carnal desires. He embarked on a wild, fruitless search for her, burning down the city during the entire escapade. Yet, nobody considered the minister's feelings. No one acknowledged how unbreakable his sinful desire was. Oh no.
Esmeralda was the one they pitied. The one they loved. The one they believed.
Oh, she rejoiced in his death. She milked her emotional wounds as skillfully as any pathetic martyr could. She basked in the glow of being a heroine, bringing about the demise of a tyrannical government minister. No sense in throwing away the limelight, was there? Oh, most definitely not.
Sweet little Esmeralda. It was such a terrible thing; to be imprisoned, groped and seduced by the minister.
Who knew he was so corrupt, so lustful? The poor girl must be scarred for eternity.
Nice little thing, she is? So brave, so strong and so defiant.
Oh, how delicious victory tasted. Not only her victory over Frollo's reign of absolute terror but the triumph of fooling everyone into believing she was not at fault. Of course, the reason this horrendous situation ever started was majorly due to Frollo's uncontrollable sexual passions but there was another factor.
Esmeralda hated to be labeled as a fool. For she wasn't one.
She knew what she taunting him at the festival could result as such. It was almost a given. Yet, she continued to play his emotions, push all his untouched buttons. She wanted to make him sweat and beg. She longed to put that pompous ass in his place.
Her beauty was a blessing. Rambunctious raven curls, ruby lips, fine sun kissed skin, energetic, exotic and dusted with as much feminine flair as any aristocratic lady. Her voluptuous, slender body packed more curves than a slithering serpent. Oh, she loved to hiss. She was definitely aware men could never ignore or resist her girlish charm. Frollo was no exception.
Of course with his respectable, upright position, he hid his true feelings. Masking every little hint of passion attempting to break free with a disdainful statement.
Look at that disgusting display.
Esmeralda needed to pounce. So, she did. Carefree and daring, she leapt towards him. Sweet little Esmeralda could behave naughtily. She actually relished being bad.
If one were to think about it, Esmeralda was never really sweet as fine sugar.
She wasn't a virgin. She loved to flirt and play around with men's feelings. She adored making them scream and hoot at her lithe and graceful motions. She was feisty, intelligent, mouthy, smart-alecky and possessed just as much flaming temper and arrogance as Frollo had.
One could state that they were complimentary flavors in a tantalizing dish.
In fact, most of her gypsy friends joked that she was just like him. Bound to him by similarities in personality and wants. Esmeralda laughed the inference off heartily but with no real mirth. She actually acknowledged this tidbit of information and remembered it forever.
Why?
Because she wanted to be reckless, dangerous and untouchable.
Sweet, naïve dancing girl Esmeralda would never want so much to even breathe in the minister's presence.
Spicy, feisty bad girl Esmeralda wanted to. Oh, she craved to behave badly around him. With him. On top of him.
Surprised you, didn't I, dear reader? Yes, Esmeralda actually possessed some sort of sickly, inane crush of Frollo for a while. In fact, it spawned way before the festival even began.
Angelic, good Esmeralda would have squelched such feelings.
Devilish, bad Esmeralda enjoyed these new emotions simmering just below the surface.
Watching him throughout her years living in Paris, she learnt so many new quirks and properties about him. More than just a little older than her twenty-three years of age, being in his fifties, Frollo intrigued Esmeralda. Advanced in age, yes, and yet so captivating somewhat. He had those fiery granite eyes that could burn holes through iron. Those diamond-sharp facial features. That opalescent skin mostly devoid of age spots. Those deep black, bendy eyebrows set so perfectly above his eyes. His rigid, straight and elegant frame. That silken, deep and rich baritone. The sanctimonious arrogance. The limber strength underneath the velvet folds of black. Furthermore, what woman could forever ignore those fingers?
Slim, wide palms. Sensuous, spindly fingers. Finely manicured and kept fingernails. Not a hair, callous, scar or burn desecrated such sophisticated radiance.
At seventeen at that time, Esmeralda was infatuated.
Oh, she had been inexplicably clever in camouflaging her heart's true yearnings. Just like Frollo, she had her own personal pride. Pride she wasn't going to compromise over a man. It would be committing social suicide if she ever let on that she was interested in such a man whom was hell-bent on destroying her vermin race. So, in the process of getting her fill of her new crush, she blatantly showed that she outright despised him.
It was not only lust that Frollo and Esmeralda had suffered. Pride was also one of the seven deadly sins.
She fabricated excuses as to why she spied on him. It was to gather information on what he planned to do to the gypsies or as she would say. Truthfully, she just wanted to watch him work, order his soldiers about in his thundering voice and command attention and respect with his dark, domineering presence. Oh, how she got so hot seeing all that masculinity in motion.
She would rebuke her gypsy girlfriends for wondering about Frollo's social life and how it would be a dream come true to marry a wealthy minister. Not because she thought it was shameful and foolish, no matter how many times she claimed it to be. No, she was envious. Frollo belonged to her. He was hers to toy with and admire in utmost secrecy.
Ah, another similarity, possessiveness.
The craving intensified. She had to do something much more devious. She needed an opportunity to grab his attention, rein him in and captivate him forever. The Festival of Fools was the perfect scene to conduct such a seductive act.
Why else would she beg Clopin to put her in the show that very year on that very day at that very appropriate time when Frollo arrived?
Not all things can be entitled a coincidence. There were factors involved.
So, she danced and twirled all scantily dressed that day. Her bare, tanned skin reflecting the sunlight perfectly. Her hair flailing in the air mesmerizingly. Her body gyrating and shaking to the rhythm of lively Romani music. She chose a red, revealing dress for she knew red was the color of passion.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him. He was gaping in awe at her beauty. Triumph coursed through her veins. He was finally noticing her!
At that precarious interval, she bounded towards him in graceful strides and clambered onto the platform in front of him. Oh, he looked so adorably lost and shaken. He must've never had a woman boldly flirt with him like so before. The craving to be whorish arose and it was boiling beyond its limit.
If she, in her own private fantasies, were to be alone with him in his bedchamber, she would have slid herself onto his lap and straddled him until he would bellow in ecstasy. The desire to do so was high. Yet, she repressed it.
Another similarity, repression.
She decided to content herself with just looping her patterned scarf around his neck and reining it in with it and gently kissing him on the tip of his nose. The minute she did, a flame burned terribly strong in her core. She kept her unwavering cool, however.
Did I ever tell you that Esmeralda was a genius at masking her feelings?
Not wanting to draw any attention from the already buzzing crowd, Esmeralda amusingly slammed his hat over his eyes and leapt away. She still had her reputation. She could not linger too long to admire his reaction to that fateful kiss. As much as craved for it, she simply couldn't.
It would be too scandalous. For her.
Frollo was predictably furious and wrenched the scarf from his neck angrily. Esmeralda noted how endearingly sexy it was for him to be infuriated. She smirked at his ruffled appearance and simply continued to dance. The big finale of seduction was coming up!
Snatching a pole away from a dazed soldier, she jammed it into the ground and spun around, sensually sliding down with one toned leg wrapped around it. With a big bright smile and a flip of her thick black hair, she bowed and stared through the crowd.
Completely ignorant at all the desirable stares she was receiving as well as the gold coins being tossed onto the stage, Esmeralda only watched Frollo. He had his eyes narrowed, his fingers steepled and his smoldering gaze affixed on her.
A pleasant chill ran down her spine. Oh, she loved that he was observing her. She had caught the canary and it was time to gobble it down.
However, there was an abrupt change in her plans. That mysterious hunchback bell ringer was finally revealed, crowned King of Fools and was tortured cruelly by the wild crowd. She knew she had to save him. Sweet Esmeralda finally conquered bad Esmeralda and she had that angelic glow surrounding her as she helped free him in front of everyone. Including Frollo.
He had barked at her, demanded her to get down at once. Oh, so very authoritative and commanding.
She refused, putting on her blatant act of detesting him. Besides, even though she craved for him, she was not going to kiss the ground he walked. Remember, she had her pride. The only thing that rivaled her lust.
"Silence!"
"Justice!"
A fury of challenging banter that simulated every nerve in the gypsy's downy body followed and she soon found herself performing various humiliating acts towards Frollo's guards in order to escape them when he ordered her arrest. No, she was not going to seduce him while imprisoned. That would be incriminating and it would show that she was desperate.
Esmeralda was never desperate. That was not one of her finer qualities.
She solved her own problems and when she wanted something, she snatched it away.
She remembered her alleged grope incident in Notre Dame. Frollo, pulling her against him, radiating heat, breathing heavily in that delicious dark tone. Oh, the craving nearly imploded within her when he did so. She caught a whiff of his masculine aroma and shuddered.
She wasn't panting and struggling in fear. She panted due to the burning in her loins and struggling because she couldn't have him discovering how much she wanted to claw that swallowing black velvet robe off. Not like this.
No one knew how much she enjoyed his sweeping, graceful hand against her neck. Or his erotic invasion of her voluminous hair. All this seductive groping led to a larger craving and if it wasn't a holy cathedral and if he had been begging for her, she would have pushed him against a pillar and violated him. She would have showed him how strong the gypsies really were.
Naughty Esmeralda was also very bold.
Many readers wondered about a nagging doubt. If she had this insatiable craving for Frollo, why didn't she choose him? Why lead him on this crazed goose chase and drive him to the point of insanity? Why not surrender and save her people?
Vanity proved stronger than lust for Esmeralda. When he captured her people at the Court of Miracles and imprisoned her, it proved that he was on top. He was overpowering her instead of vice versa, which was what she craved.
Simply, Esmeralda wanted Frollo. But, she also wanted to dominate Frollo.
She spat in his face in spite because she hated how he twisted her plan to win his heart. She ran away from him because she knew she would be miserably waiting hand and foot on him. Esmeralda wanted to opposite to happen. He was her toy, her slave, and her piece of meat to paw at.
She was the mistress and he was to be her lover.
All her plans in seduction and tempting had all gone down the drain. She had to end the affair. Thus, when he plummeted into the fiery pit, Esmeralda felt victory. She was free of him. She no longer had to crave for him. Her people need not fear for their lives any longer.
So, really who started this whole lustful escapade?
The fool or the fool that desired her?
Secretly sickened and still craving for a lurid and frigid touch out of those marble hands, Esmeralda finally knew the answer.
A/N: Ugh, I know it's crappy! But I typed this at night! Must. Sleep. Now.