Title: A Gypsy's Burning Desire
Summary: Esmeralda's take on Hellfire. She sings this after Frollo leaves her in the Cathedral. Yes, God Help the Outcasts was a beautiful song but I was thinking this would've worked out better. What with all the candles and such.
Genre: Spiritual/Romance
Rated: T for suggestive themes and spiritual stuff
A/N: The song is entirely ours. My friends and I. We own nothing else.
Esmeralda sighed in frustration at her circumstances. There was no doubt about it; she was locked in. One step outside and she'll be arrested. She almost felt a need to hurl herself at the church door, beating it down with her fists in helplessness. No, she couldn't do that. She was never a damsel in distress. Smirking, she remembered how she took down that weak soldier who only seemed content to make pretty eyes at her. Men. They were all the same. All they could do when a pretty girl's in sight is to flirt and charm her.
Well, all except one. Esmeralda shivered in disgust as she remembered him.
He brazenly snuck up behind her, wrenched her arm back, smelled her hair and even stroked her neck. She growled under her breath. Why wouldn't he just leave her be? Why did he insist on making her life difficult? He should've help that poor, deformed boy instead of sitting there stewing in sanctimonious arrogance. And he blamed her for calling him a fool. He was one, wasn't he? Esmeralda reached up and touched her neck, brushing her tender fingertips against the sensitive spot below her jaw line. Another shiver passed through, but this was not out of disgust.
She waltzed gracefully between two rows of candles. Fire. It reminded her of his granite eyes. Such fiery quality within them. In fact, every physical attribute he possessed had something to do with fire. His body radiated warmth against hers when she recalled him pressed against her tightly. Oh my, she felt a flush of excitement she hadn't felt from a man for quite some time. His fingers were capable of searing human flesh. When he caressed her, Esmeralda swore it felt like tender flames stroking against her, enrapturing her. His voice; Esmeralda stood stone still, remembering it.
You think you've outwitted me. But I'm a patient man and gypsies don't do well inside stonewalls. He was mocking her feisty nature. No man ever did that before.
I was just imagining a rope…around that beautiful neck. Her hand found its way around her neck again. How sensuous his touch was, no matter how revolting his intention.
What a clever witch. So typical of your kind to twist the truth, to cloud the mine with unholy thoughts. Unholy thoughts indeed! Esmeralda quivered, wondering where this new feeling spawned. She bristled. How dare he blame her kind and label her a witch? It was his own perverted fault if his mind was clouded with filthy, erotic fantasies. As it was hers.
She sighed and fixed her eyes upon the great statue of the Virgin Mary. Maybe she could ease her inner turmoil. This wicked man was making her feel so feverish, light-headed and unsure of her true emotions. Why? Why wouldn't he just leave her be? Inhaling deeply, she began to sing.
I tell you, My Sanctuary,
You know I am a righteous girl,
I stand defiant, different and proud,
And I know, my Sanctuary,
That I charm with every prance and twirl,
Getting applause from the eager male crowd,
Her feet led her between the candles again. She focused on one particular large, flickering flame. It danced naked and glimmering. Such incandescent beauty. So hypnotizing.
Then, tell me, my Sanctuary,
Why I see him standing there?
Memories of him pointing an accusatory finger at her, barking at her for defying him openly. His eyes flashing infuriation, his deep baritone completely angry. How she loathed him.
Why his dark presence still sears my soul?
His foreboding figure, tall, dark and intimidating. Not a man to be toyed with.
I feel him, I see him,
A wicked man of holy air,
Is stirring feelings I cannot control,
Hauntingly enough, Esmeralda peered deeper into the solitary flame where she could actually glimpse Frollo standing and swaying in it. A figurine of the flames. So evocative, graceful and sensual. The outline of his robe and chaperon stood out like reality. Or was it a vision of insanely vivid imagination?
Esmeralda could not handle the lurid thoughts. His sweeping hand across her neck. His deliciously dark voice, so dangerously romancing. A hypocrite. A damned man. That could make her feel so good. How she hated that fact.
Like fire,
He's fire,
A fire in my skin,
Spookily, as if in some nightmarish world, a very incandescent smoke form of Frollo loomed behind her. Esmeralda tipped her head back feverishly as he kissed her neck, hitting that erogenous zone. She hissed in delight. She continued to sing as he rapturously nibbled at her neck and shoulders.
A burning desire,
A yearning deep within,
Esmeralda gritted her teeth. No, she couldn't let this man savagely control her like this. She must be strong. She struggled and the smoke form disappeared. How dare he impress such a horrifically dark erotic design upon her like that? She sank to her knees. That damned bastard sucked all the energy out of her. All that's left was a scorching heat. A heat needing to be extinguished. No, she couldn't possibly allow herself to lust after that horrid, prejudiced, cruel, heartless…the flames seemed to increase in size as the cathedral vanished. To her immense terror, they morphed into the outlines and features of her dear friends. They jeered at her accusingly. For now, she was being accused of lusting after their one true enemy.
Esmeralda felt like weeping in misery. No, she was not a whore. It was all his bloody, damned fault!
It's not my fault,
(Lustful gypsy)
She dashed frantically between the frightening flames. She tried to convince everyone, she included, that it was Frollo's trickery for making her feel this way. He was the Devil. He was the one clouding her mind with shameful thoughts. That bastard should look at himself before judging others. But as she ranted on, she suddenly found herself not knowing who the real culprit is.
I'm not to blame,
(Lustful gypsy)
It is the minister, who set this torrid flame,
(Lustful, traitorous gypsy)
It's not my fault,
(Lustful gypsy)
If it's fate's plan,
I was to fall for such a twisted, dangerous man!
Her sense spiraling out of all known control, she imagined all the flames merging into one gargantuan spire of warmth where she was absorbed into it. The flame exploded with a raw intensity, sending her to her knees again. She was at a loss. This foul man had corrupted her free, innocent thinking. The sylph, ghostly figure of Frollo was mocking her, sneering. She wanted to put out that flame. At the same time, she wanted to watch it sway within it. No. She mustn't allow him to…she just cannot be weak. This man was her most despised foe. She cannot long for him. But the rapturous, tempting flames calling for her, soothingly inviting her to bathe in them. The desire was entirely too much. She pleaded for help from the Holy Mother and her sanctuary.
Protect me, my Sanctuary,
Don't let me fall for his intoxicating charm,
Don't let his fiery eyes sear my flesh and bone,
She gripped her arm tightly, thinking about his own wrenching grip. As though the fire had indeed melted her skin and tendons off. Be gone, you accursed holy man!
Destroy the evil minister, and shield me from potential harm,
Or else let me be his and his alone…
Dizzying fumes of lust and anger swirled in her subconscious. The gypsy was no longer thinking clearly. All that's left was the common sense of a mad harridan. That man with his fiery eyes and smoldering eyes had bewitched her totally. She wanted him dead! Or did she just want him? For at that moment, her insane mind's eye watched as the smoke from the candles gathered together to form yet another incandescent smoke vision of Frollo, beckoning her into his arms. Esmeralda hurriedly stepped forth and embraced him, even trying to kiss him. The smoke dissipated upon contact, and she was left feeling like the perfect fool. How could he reduce her to such sniveling weakness?
Hot fire,
Dark fire,
Now minister, it's your move,
She glared defiantly at the mocking figure in the flame. So close to being extinguished. She pointed at it hatefully.
Send me to your pyre,
Or you have your love to prove,
With that mighty proclamation, she swiped her hand against the candles, burning herself and putting out all the flames. All that was left was the smoke spiraling upwards in wisps. The smoke poisoned her. She found herself backing away from the flames in misery and fear. If that man wished for her, she would not give in so easily. Even if she were to want him back. Now, she was beginning to see that 'if' was now inevitable.
God have mercy on him,
God save your dark, wicked soul, you damned villain.
God have mercy on me,
Oh Holy Mother, I don't love him. Save me from this burning lust. Her prayer fell on deaf ears. Wild and unrestrained, the desire seemed to intensify. The room grew warm and Esmeralda felt her want and need to increase. Why? Why, him of all people? He was a fire. A fire that needed to be put out. A fire capable of burning the hearts of young women into ashes.
But for my sinful lust,
I…will…be…his!!!!
Esmeralda collapsed onto the marble floor, drenched in sweat and panting. Her hair was unruly and tangled. Her lips chapped and dry. She must leave the cathedral. One more moment in this place and she would go crazy. Frollo had cursed her, doomed her to a shameless, erotic lust.
He would be the one to burn. Not her.
She will not have him. But how she very much wanted to. Leaving this so-called sanctuary will stop these unholy thoughts. She just cannot surrender herself to be his. Yet, the internal flame was practically drawing her to him.
Gypsies really did not do well behind stonewalls. Esmeralda giddily stood up and walked away, calming herself. She left behind extinguished candles and an ignored desire that was still burning in her core.
A/N: Phew, never thought that would turn out fine. Please read and review.