Silence:

IT HAD BEEN nearly four weeks since Esmeralda had agreed to give herself to Frollo in exchange of her life and the life of the ones that she cared about. The days were passing slowly, very slowly, and since the day she had tried to escape she was constantly locked only inside the bedroom of the minister. She was spending her time there pretty much the same as the first days in the house. Sometimes Frollo was calling her for breakfast downstairs, but rather often she ate alone in the room, as the servants were bringing her the food. They were not really aloud to communicate with her and to stay for more than a few minutes, but Corrine was always trying to comfort the gypsy as best as she could. The young servant had not forgotten her promise to learn more about the former captain and to tell her, but the development of this was progressing slowly. Once she shared with Esmeralda that the riots and the gypsies on the streets were becoming more and more and that's why all soldiers, including her husband as well, were working longer hours and were always exhausted at the end of the day. Corrine was worried about where all this might lead and that the times were not exactly the right ones to ask for the ex- captain, suggesting that it would be too suspicious. Esmeralda seemed to understand the situation, but when she asked to know more about her people, the maid just put her head down and said that she should not be in the room any longer. After that their conversations were short and rather empty. Esmeralda could tell that the servant was still distrusting her and she was still scared that the gypsy might try to run again. The gypsy was not blaming her for feeling that way, and in fact she was partially sorry that she needed to trick the only person in the house that she did not despise, but Esmeralda would not exchange for anything the few hours for freedom that she had had that afternoon. In fact that was the only thing that prevented her from total despair- that and the thought that Phoebus is somewhere in the city.

It was a Saturday morning when the minister woke up and saw as usual the huddled up gypsy on the other end of the bed. She was not sleeping, but she had faced the windows and did not make any signs of awareness. She seemed deeply sunk in her thoughts and not paying attention of anything else around her. The sun was giving up its first sun rays and it was warm outside, however the gypsy had surrounded tightly the blanket around her. She wore her night gown on her, but she was still feeling too exposed- she had never got used to the minister's presence and even though she was giving less of a fight, while Frollo was pleasurably forcing himself inside of her, she was still trying as much as she could to preserve her dignity if not then, then at least at the rest of the time. She sharply snapped out of her drifted state as she felt the cold hand of the judge sliding underneath her robe along her shoulder and back. She did not move; she just closed her eyes hoping that he would finish fast this time. It was too early in the morning to hope that the duty calling of the minister to go to work would safe her, so she submissively turned on her back when he pulled her. His hand was now on her shoulder, still beneath her night gown, when his fingers moved in front and started slowly to move down and up along the skin between her breasts. She remained silent and passive, as her green eyes were fixed somewhere on the ceiling. It was better this way- when she did not resist it, it was hurting less and sometimes when she was trying really hard, she was succeeding to ignore the humiliating things that the minister did with her body. However, it seemed to her that every time was getting longer and longer, and Frollo was more and more enjoying himself, at the same time wanting more and more of her. She didn't like it, she never did. Sometimes she wondered was it possible ever to experience some joy of it. She had always thought before that, that it was supposed to be happiness shared between two lovers, but how could she feel happiness by his abusive, stripping her hands, or the fact that she never let herself forget what he had done to her and her people. Her mind involuntary wondered if it was going to be any different if Phoebus was on his place. She shivered- the minister had moved the covers off her and was sliding his cold hand along one of her legs, advancing upper and upper. The gypsy automatically pulled it, locking her knees together. He looked at her- the same cold, mocking, libidinous, and impudent stare, which she had frequently seen in his eyes. His eyes- always proud, dark and piercing right through her soul, like she was constantly exposed, stripped, bare and naked in his view. He smirked; a cold, mechanical, and contemptuous smirk.

"Are you having something else in mind, my dear," he asked rhetorically as his lips slid aside the corners of his mouth, "something rougher, perhaps?"He was now near her legs, above her, almost seating on his knees, as he leaned towards his arm. His head bend slightly towards one of his shoulders, letting the few golden sun rays fall on his gray, disordered from the sleeping hair. His eyes impudently and libidinously examined her entire body, as his eyebrows lifted questionably towards her. She hated this; she hated all of it- his look, his low voice, his cold hands touching her, him being inside of her. She felt nauseous. She sighed heavily, as she loosened her legs, and closed her eyes without saying anything. He smiled victoriously. The gypsy put her head back up, as she felt his fingers and the even colder metal of his rings on her foot, knee, thigh… She really hoped that he would finish fast this time. Esmeralda felt cold as he lifted the robe to her waste, revealing everything beneath it. He pressed her with his body, but that did not make her feel any warmer. She could hear him smirking while he was staring at her face again. He loved playing with her, with every part of her; she was entirely his and his only. That thought was giving him some surprising tranquility. No one except him had ever touched her; no one except him would ever touch her. She was his private seducer, his private tempter to the gates of Hell, and he had somehow acquiesced with that thought. He was still giving a lot of money to the cathedral of Notre Dame in the idea of a "charity," he was still praying, going to church and practically opposing and chasing everything that he considered unholy, except these moments, when he was in his bedroom. He had come to the conclusion that in that time it was best to ignore the quite voice that was whispering in his head that his soul would burn for eternity for the sins of his flesh; and instead to give in to the urges that his entire body were screaming while being close to this goddess of hell.

Esmeralda closed harder her eyes as she jerked, feeling a sudden cramp in her stomach. She could not help it, but exile noisily though her teeth, overwhelmed with the abrupt pain that had come and gone. Frollo lifted his head from her chest, surprised from her spontaneous shudder. He felt the need to ask her what was wrong, but he did not. Instead he paused above her, examining her thoroughly in silence. Her head was now turned aside to the windows, buried, as much as she could do so while lying on her back. He hated this, he hated when he did not know what she was experiencing- he was convinced that he did not care whether it was hatred or despair, but he was enjoying himself when knowing exactly what he was causing her. He put his weight on one side of his body, as he lifted his other hand from the bed and directed it to her face. He clutched tightly her cheeks, as he roughly turned her towards him. Her green eyes pierced at him with hatred, but there was something else in them, some anguish that he had not found in them before. For a while he was staring at her, examining her, studying her, trying to figure her out. He felt somewhat peaceful while gazing at her face – she was so beautiful, her raven black hair that was now carelessly falling aside was making him feel even harder; her delicate dark skin was filling him with indescribable pleasure; her soft, formerly so lively, but now pale, lips were setting him on fire whenever he looked at them; and her eyes were always weakening his entire body, making him want to fall on his knees and beg for her love. He felt fire in his throat, he wanted to ask her if she was alright, if he could do something to make her feel better or anything at all. There was so many things that he wanted to tell her, but he felt that there was not enough words for them, that all of it was losing itself in the screaming silence between them. After a long pause, he smirked and drawled viciously:

"You know, I could be gentler with you, you have only to ask nicely." The gypsy did not say anything. She tried to turn her eyes as best as she could away from him, she could not stand his mocking expression for another moment. The pain in her stomach had gone as quickly as it had come, but she had the feeling it was still there. She knew more than well that he had not caused it; it was something else, something that had happened to her more than once. For a second a childish thought passed her mind, hoping that her pain would lead to some horrible disease that she could pass to Frollo. She was breathing heavily, feeling her chest go up and down, and sensing the minister's hand, which was still roughly holding her face across her bare, stripped breasts. She did not wanted to talk with him, she had not talked to him much this weeks, she feared that she would not control herself and the fact that she knew about Phoebus being in the city would eventually escaped her lips. She just hoped that he would soon stop looking at her and finish pleasuring himself with her. But instead, he broke after another long pause: "You do not have to pretend before me, my little sorceress, I know that you enjoy it as much as I do," his lips were transformed in a mocking smile, but there was some stone cold libidinous in his eyes and voice. She looked at him with repulsion, feeling nauseas again, but remained wordless. He smirked. "Very well then, you just lay still as a good little gypsy, and leave all the work to me," he pressed himself harder to her exposed genitals, as Esmeralda painfully felt his arousing member between her thighs. His night gown was the only thing that was now separating them. She looked again aside- at least now it was getting to an end. It was always the same- he was stripping her, rubbing his body against her naked one, exploring and mapping her nudity, and after feeling that he could not restrain himself any further he was thirstily pushing his manhood inside of her. "Yes," he drawled "it is what you like, is it not. You like being beneath, passively letting yourself to me, playing a victim, when it is you all along that has made this happen." Esmeralda greeted her teeth, he had let her head go, insatiable with his hands touching all over her, and she had turned it aside. She did not know how much of this she could bare before losing her temper and talking back at all the nonsense that he was hissing in her ear. "Relax," he sneered, "just be a good little girl and I will give you whatever you like, I will give you what you yearn for, my little fiend." He seemed enjoying his talks. He hardly thought that any of this was true, but he liked angering her and making her feel dirty. He was feeling the need to tell her something, even nasty, especially nasty. He slid his hands beneath her knees and started to fold her legs, pushing them aside, near her upper body. He was fully aroused, but he wanted to make it longer, to provoke her longer, and to have her longer… "You can trust me, you know that little witch. Whenever you were nice, I have given you what you…"

"Don't lie to me," the gypsy suddenly interrupted him, turning her head towards him and looking him spitefully. "Once was enough." He paused, still holding her legs near her.

"What are you talking about," he drawled incomprehensibly, surprised from her sudden shift of the moods, as he was still over her, not changing his position. She used his moments of passive realization to forcefully stretch her legs, escaping his grips, and dragged herself back to the frame of the bed, behind which was one of the stone walls. Now she was sitting, as her back was supported by the bed frame, and her knees were locked together before her. She rapidly grabbed the unbuttoned two pieces of the upper part of the night gown, joining them together so to cover her breasts. Her other hand started hastily to cover with cloth her exposed legs, but her eyes did not moved from the minister. He had just put his hands on the bed, supporting himself, as he was on his knees, and he on his turn was intensely staring back at her. He seemed he had snapped from the shock, but he let her cover herself anyway. He closed his head to hers, as she could now feel his breathes on her face, and he was still piercing his stare right at her green eyes, which were partially hidden with locks of hair.

"Do you wish to tell me something, gypsy," he asked with ice cold voice. She breathed several times, as she seemed to hesitate.

"I know about Phoebus," the girl finally said in one breath. Frollo backed up a little bit from her, surprised and in the same time disgusted by the mentioning of that name.

"I told you never to hear for him from your lips again," he said with attempt to control his voice, but the rage, the revulsion and the many others mingling emotions were slipping away. A silence followed.

"You also told me that he isn't in Paris," Esmeralda said after a pause, gaining some confidence and spite in her tone.

"He is not," the minister replied almost immediately, with determined, cold voice, which slowly indicated every syllable of the pronounced words.

"Lie," the gypsy yelled suddenly, "you're lying again!" Frollo swiftly grabbed her for the neck.

"Silence, you witch," he commanded loudly, not bothering to hide his anger anymore. "Who had filled your head with this deceiving scheme?!"

"Does it matter," Esmeralda replied not lowering her voice. Frollo closed his face again to hers, as he said with contented rage, emphasizing on every word:

"Yes, it does."

"So you don't deny it," the gypsy was too angry with him, and already knew that there was no turning back from this, but she did not intended to involve the maid as well. She decided to take all his rage upon herself, he could beat her as much as he wants, but she was going at least to tell what was on her mind. The minister remained silent, but was still looking her with incredible rage ready to tear her apart only with a stare. "Why aren't you yelling now," the gypsy continued, with a little less loud voice, but still louder than her usual speech. "Or is it because you have lied, is lie not one of your sins?"

"I have not lied to you," the judge said trying to manage his anger again. The gypsy felt that his grip was weakening and she used the chance to push his hand off her. She could still sense him though.

"Is this also a lie? What else have you not told me? Is Clopin dead? Where is Phoebus?"

The judge suddenly slid his hand between her and the wall, gripping and pulling locks of her hair from the back of her head. She jerked and screamed from the sudden pain.

"Shut this pretty mouth of yours at once," he clenched through his teeth.

"No," she said whimpering still from the pain. She had bent her head toward his pulling arm, in order to lesser the hurt. "I conformed to all your sickening actions," he pulled her harder and she cried out again, "but that's it. You do not have anything to keep me shut anymore. Who knows where Phoebus is, and what other lies have you told me, is there anything true that have come out of your mouth?"

"Shut up," he yelled hitting her head to the wall.

"Why, I am as good to you as dead! All this time putting it in me while I lied still, that is turning you on, isn't it?" He hit her one more time harsher to the cold stone, and she screamed with pain. "That's right, kill me and after that fuck me! I bet it won't be any different for you!"

"Silenced this filthy thing of yours," Frollo shouted in her ear as he took with his other hand her face and squeezed it. Esmeralda felt how he was suffocating her and started moving wildly. Her hands, formerly automatically grabbed his wrist in order to ease the grip, now let them go, and along with her legs she started punching and kicking hopelessly at all directions. The minister was larger and stronger than her, and she knew that it would not make any difference even if she overpowers him, but that did not matter anymore. She did not have a plan, she was holding onto the moment, on the goal to survive this. In a moment, with one lucky kick, she succeed to hit him in his chest and to push him a little bit from her. She breathed heavily, as she collapsed her exhausted body again pressing on the bed frame, the wall and the pillows on which she was sitting, trying to enlarge, as much as she could, the distance between them. She was inhaling and exhaling rapidly, as she saw the minister, now sited on the middle of the one side of the bed, doing the same, as his eyes were now wide opened, and he was clenching his hands in fists.

"Do not dare to permit yourself such insolence again," the judge said with incredibly calm voice.

"Or what," the gypsy said boldly as she put her head rest on the wall behind, still looking right at him.

"Don't," the minister threatened, wishing to retreat from that scene. He was still beyond rage and he did not know if he could really control himself. He was regretting for every hit that he had laid upon her, but in the same time he wanted to continue causing her pain. He broke the stare from her, looking away in order to repress the desire of damaging her.

"Nothing has changed," she said with serious and untouched voice. "I want answers, and you want to fuck me and kill me, and not necessarily in that order."

"For goodness sake woman, shut that thing if you know what is best for you!" the minister shouted with great rage, tightening himself and not moving from his place in order to restrain himself from killing her. Esmeralda mechanically closed her eyes from startling, but opened them quickly

"What is good for me is far away from this prison of torture!"

"Silenced," Frollo over yelled her, concentrating on his breathes so not to think of her.

"Everything good for me you took away," she continued without seeming to notice him. "And you have probably killed everyone, for who I have agreed at first place to put up with that, to put up with you! Have you really persuaded yourself that I desire all that humiliation? That I want your pervert hands to even touch me, or you to crawl on me whenever you are hardened?"

"You better silenced you mouth, or…"

"Or what? Kill me if you dare, why I should be scared, you have killed everyone that I cared about, haven't you? My people, where are they if not in the Palace of Miracles? You chased them off their homes, and now you are decorating the walls of the city with their heads," Esmeralda did not seem able to stop herself.

"Who told you…" the judge started over shouting her, but he was again interrupted.

"Who told, who told! Why, because I was supposed to be isolated here so I would never find out! Well, I know about the riots and that you are massacring the people you promise to let free! Is it not true, are you not killing as we are speaking thousand for whom I have decided to be with you at the first place?"

"Shut up, you don't know anything!"

"No, I know! I know you like fucking me while I am silent, but I guess you won't do it now, will you?! I don't arouse you when I speak, do I? You like me silent, but I won't be anymore! I want answers and not lies! If I have them, and if I know they are true I promise that you will have again your corpse for playing, but is there any reason, any at all, to do what you please now? Kill me if you wish, I don't want to live without the hope that Phoebus is alive and one day he can slice your throat out!..."

In a second Frollo snapped and grabbed her harshly by the neck. He dragged her to one of the windows with inhuman force, and without say anything he pushed her body halfway down through the window. He leaned towards her and sneered spitefully:

"Remember the first time when we did this? I showed you your people, free and unharmed leaving the city. Now you see the ones that are left. And mark my word, heathen, the next time we do that you will see the entire city burning along with YOUR PRECIOUS WHORE-LOVER!" He pulled her back and hit her to the wall nearby: "And then, when you beg me to kill you, I shall take everything, that I gave you, off your body," he slid his arm along her inner thigh, "I shall "PLAY" with you for a last time and when you are beyond comprehension, "sickened" by everything that I have done to you, I shall grant you your wish and let you fall from this very window, where your filthy, unholy flesh will rotten!"

Esmeralda did not say anything, her eyes were full with tears- what was she imagining?- she would always be his slave as long as there was still a gypsy life in the city that he could threaten to take. She could not bear the thought of knowing to be the reason of the death of anyone, what was left for annihilation of entire city. She needed to protect the lives of the gypsies left in that city, and the minister was only searching for a reason to kill them.

"Are we clear," he asked coldly. Esmeralda barely nodded her head, as she tried to look as boldly as she could. "Will you be silent," he asked and she nodded mechanically, "and not mentioning him again?"

"You wish that…" she started but found strength to stop. However it was too late, the minister grabbed her by the back of the neck, causing her incredible pain, and he dragged her in the middle of the room, in front of the bed. He turned her in order to face him, so now they were standing still, face to face.

"Kneel," he said coldly. She looked at him with enlarged eyes, not moving. "KNEEL, I SAID."

The gypsy blinked rapidly, startling from his sudden change of voice. She looked at him in the same time with spite, fear, threatening and begging. She did not realized what she was doing before she felt that one of her legs slowly bent, followed by the other, and she found herself kneeled before him. Her night gown was covering her knees, but she could still feel the cold, stone floor underneath. She did not want to look up, but she did not want to look what was in front of her either. For a moment she looked straight at the floor, but then she sensed him advancing, and he roughly pulled her head up. She looked at his cold, vicious and self- pleasured expression.

"What are you doing," she asked childishly, if she did not know the answer already. He smirked.

"You know, you are not the first pretty girl that I have seen in my life, but you are the first one that dares to talk to me like this," he laughed somewhat falsely. "I guess that is how you enchanted me, how you kept me in your trap," he went closer to her, holding more firmly her head. "Now, you better do exactly what I order you, or my threats would not be just words, but deeds." With his other hand he lifted his night gown until it was above his waste. Esmeralda, more than ever convinced of what he wanted her to do, tried to turn her head aside, but his fingers were holding her strongly. "Don't move," he said with low, serious voice, as he let the hold of her face. She did not move, she did not dared to. His free hand slid around her lips, and he pushed one of his fingers between her objecting lips. He felt with incredible pleasure the moist and warmth inside her mouth. "Open it," he ordered, as she was looking up to him, but still saw with panic his arousing member. She conformed to this order as well. He smirked. "You like using your mouth, do you not," he grinned libidinously, "I believe I shall find a pleasing way to use it myself. He advanced even closer to her, as his hand went on the back of her head, and he grabbed her firmly: "Esmeralda, I believe it is the time to teach you of the virtue of silence."

WHILE Frollo was dressing, Esmeralda sat lifelessly on the floor, as she had put her back against the outside side of the frame of the bed. She had fixed her stare at the empty space before her, and she looked rather dead than alive. Her head was numbly tossed aside. A few tears had dried on her face while sliding down her cheeks. Her hair was a mess, and she had just folded her arms around her in order to cover the still unbuttoned night gown. Her legs were clinging closely to one another. The minister had finally finish dressing, as he adjusted his white color and took his hat in one of his hands. He approached her, she did not move, only her big, green and empty eyes slowly looked dully up towards him with a mixture of exhaustion and despair. He stared for a moment back at her- his eyes were peaceful, serene and untouched. The sharp lines of his expression had not become softer, but somehow even if his face was the same cold and indifferent one, he looked rather satisfied and pleased. Esmeralda had never before seen him like this and she wished never to have had to. It seemed to her that now she hated him even more if that was possible, and a thought went through her mind, wishing to see his mocking or vicious expression- anything, but that contented, peaceful one. A slight smile, almost unnoticeable, appeared on his mouth. He had really broken her, but he did not care. All that he could think of was the incredible pleasure beyond any words of sin and vice that he had experienced while at the same time crashing her arrogance. He was not mad anymore, how could he? He felt at peace, without any worries and anger, without any fears of his soul- nothing had changed except that he did not care anymore. For a second he wondered how long this blissful ignorance would continue.

"Wash yourself, dress something more proper and I shall send a maid to get you for breakfast after a quarter of an hour," he ordered with a voice that was neither vicious nor mild- with indifference that the girl had never heard from him before. He took the keys from his pocket and directed to the door. Esmeralda did not move; her eyes were blindly watching the same place where Frollo had been standing just a moment ago. He opened the door and slightly glanced towards her and paused. "Most of the gypsy rebellions are locked in the dungeons and are waiting their trials. I have not seen your friend Clopin, so as far as I know he is unharmed. The ex-captain was indeed transferred in Rheims, but a lot of their soldiers were sent here to help in the managing of the riots. I do not say untrue things and the sooner you learn that the better for you," he exited and locked behind him. Esmeralda had listened stilled, but as she heard him getting away from the door she slowly turned her eyes full with tears and stared the door.

IT DID NOT take long for the gypsy to appear in the dining room downstairs, but the way that Paulette acted near her suggested that she had made sure for that. Esmeralda wore the green dress that Corrine had given her, she always wore it. Frollo had not said anything, but he seemed to mind whenever he saw her with it. He had not given her any more gifts and she was somehow grateful for it. The maids brought the two trays and as usual started to put them on the table. Frollo sat in his usual seat, on the one end of the table and the gypsy sat on the other. After the servants were done they quietly backed up a few steps from the table and stayed there with bowed heads in case the minister wished something else. Usually he was ordering them right away to leave the room, but now he seemed he had forgotten about them. His eyes were fixed on the gypsy and the light that was falling on her revealed skin around the neck. The maids did not say anything, but Corrine was permitting once and a while to separate her stare from her shoes and to look either towards the minister or towards the gypsy. All the morning the servants as well as the other workers in the house had heard the loud shouting from upstairs, and even though they all pretended not to notice them, all of them were listening intensely if they could understand a word or two. The young servant was worried from the way the gypsy looked, but at least she was glad that she was still alive. Except of the few seconds of looking, she did not show any other sign of sympathizing Esmeralda.

"Do you not have appetite this morning, my dear," the minister drawled teasingly, after a while, as the gypsy had not moved since she had sat down. Her eyes separated from the table, and she looked at him lifelessly without saying anything. Frollo smirked. "Eat," he commanded more coldly this time, losing the tease in his tone.

The gypsy looked again to the table and reached to the fruit basket. She split one purple berry from a bunch of grape and stared at it for a while, playing with it with her fingers. She looked for a second the minister who was still staring her and intimidating her. She looker the berry again and slowly put it in her mouth, feeling nauseas at the second she did so. She crushed it between her teeth, tasting the sweet juicy flesh of it, as she suddenly felt another cramp in her stomach and jerked again. She involuntary gritted her teeth feeling the seeds of the grape between them. She loudly coughed as she felt more and more nauseas. Frollo was watching her unmoved. She put a hand on her mouth as she felt the coming back food in her throat. In a part of the second her heart jumped wildly, beating faster, as she had finally realized. She was not suffering of any disease, it was not something that hopefully she could pass to Frollo; it was something that he had passed to her. She abruptly stood up, knowing that she could not control herself anymore, and she could only manage to drop on her knees aside as she vomited her inner juices on the floor. The servants were ready to run to her to help her, but the minister had already ran to her, falling on his knees next to her and gently supporting her by the shoulders.

"What is wrong," he asked without thinking too much, in a voice that was letting out his concern for her. She did not answer, breathing quickly and looking in some trance the place where she had vomited. Frollo shook her by the soldiers to snap her out of that state, repeating this time with more control over his voice, "What happened?" She looked at him, as she wiped her mouth with one hand.

"What happened? You happened," she said quietly, but full with vice tone. "You really thought that you could put it in me without any consequences?" The minister grabbed her shoulders harsher as he asked coldly:

"What are you talking about?"

Now she was looking right at his eyes, as she said with sharp, cold spite:

"I am pregnant, you idiot."