AN: This was kind of an unofficial prompt created by one of my friends and I just had to do it. It was in the process of being made in the mere future anyway. So, I just figured what the hell.

Anyway, enjoy!

Esmeralda could hear a faint, strange sound coming from Frollo's office. She was at the end of the long hallway leading to the tall, dark wooden door. His office was just before she would take a left to the joining hallway that led to her room. She was on her way to that destination for the night, when she had stopped to listen.

When she had moved slowly to the center of the hallway, it was almost clear on what it was. But she still wasn't too sure. So she stood with a patient ear and listened deeper with a curiosity she was sure would get her killed oneday.

Scritch…scratch…scitch…scrrtch…

She shook her head in confusion.

It wasn't a quill on parchment. She thought to herself. It was louder. With way more force. With a deeper sound.

She moved further down the hall with quiet stealth, until her ear was almost pressed to the polished door. It was partially ajar and a little candle light was peeking out through the crack. It splashed a line of soft glow onto a tapestry to the right of her. Esmeralda stared past the intricate threads in full auditory concentration.

…Scrit…scritch…scritch…scrit…

It was a light scratching. It was a light scratching upon…

Wood?

Esmeralda made a peculiar face, but backed away when the sound increased. It was done with such violent force it almost disturbed her. She previously held the thought of stealing a glance through the door hinges, but the erratic and irritating rhythm stopped her.

…SCRITCH…SCRATCH…SCRITCH…SCRATCH…SCRATCH…

All of a sudden, she hears Frollo's muffled grunt and heavy breath drift from inside his chamber and her heart skipped a beat. Her reaction always confused her when it came to Frollo. Sure, he scared the hell out of her, but there was another feeling that came along with that fear. It was a sense of excited anticipation. Her heart always leapt to her throat when seeing or hearing him, but it wasn't the only part of her anatomy that reacted. She always shook it off. Pretended it was nothing and proceeded to scoff, spit and hurl her disgust at the man she believed she loathed. Besides, Phoebus was waiting for her. He was, after all, the love of her life.

But through all that, there was still this small voice in the left anterior cortex of her brain reminding her of a hidden part of herself. A darker part that she refused to acknowledge.

…You know you want it Esmeralda…you know you want him…You want him to do…

She shivered.

The voice was always miniscule. It only echoed weakly in the back of her mind. She was always able to shut it out. But as of late, it was growing to a roar. It was growing in speed and spreading. It was like an aggressive illness that was finally done incubating and her doubt of her own morality was the first of many symptoms to appear.

That wasn't who she was. Or was it. She wasn't sure anymore.

Hearing him now. Hearing his deep growl. It was the kind that resonated deep within his chest, churning, welling until it exploded out in a rush of anger and rage and...

Oooooh… Her mind responded, opening Pandora's Box of a primal need. It was disabling her own awareness and before she could come to her senses, a hand gripped her arm hard and yanked her into the lion's den.

Into his chambers.