"See the finest girl in France
Make an entrance to entrance
Dance La Esmerelda! Dance!"
Preceded by an explosion of confetti flung to the floor by her older brother, Esmerelda stepped out onto the stage at the back of the Boar's Head tavern. The patrons cheered and clapped, elbowing each other in hopes of a better view.
Esmerelda twirled across the stage, swooping down and standing up with the grace of a swan. Fully absorbed in her own movements, she barely even noticed the burly bouncer pulling back at the men attempting to climb onto the stage when she slipped off her outer dress and shimmied up the pole. Her toned core tightened as she easily flipped backward, holding on by her ankles.
In a much-practiced maneuver, Clopin tossed her a shimmering hula hoop. She grabbed it without letting go of the pole, bending back and curling through it. Long years of practice had enabled Esmerelda to contort herself into nearly any position, to the amazement of her onlookers.
Careful not to catch her body stocking on the metal pole (her audience would be very amused if she accidentally tore the stocking, but Esmerelda had no desire to be tasked with finding a replacement), she jumped off, performing handsprings across the stage. The cheering of the audience reached a fever pitch; shouts echoed through the cramped room, bouncers were attempting to restrain people and restore order.
A careful observation revealed to Esmerelda the cause of the commotion. Grinning at the sight of the familiar yellow hair, she cupped her hands to her face. "Phoebus! Late again? Why, I was beginning to think you didn't care!"
"Babe!" he shouted back. "Got here—quick as—I could," he panted, trying to elbow his way through the crowd towards the stage. "Everybody, out of my way!" he shouted in frustration. "I'm the captain of the guard! Let me through!"
The crowd parted with bitter, envious stares. "Lucky him," a jealous voice muttered.
Phoebus stepped directly onto the stage (no bouncer bothered him), dropped to one knee, and pulled a bouquet of flowers from his backpack. "For you, dear. You are the flower of all girls."
Giggling, the dancer took the flowers. To her surprise, they had been only slightly smashed by the scuffle. As her hand closed around the stems, her hand recognized a familiar texture; she quickly lifted the flowers to her face for a closer look. "My scarf?"
Phoebus grinned. "I managed to snitch it from His Horribleness. Never thought there would be an upside to working for that old geezer, but turns out I was wrong." He laughed. "Although I'll never know why you dropped your scarf in his lap."
"For fun," she replied flippantly. "He needed some pizazz in his outfit. All of that boring old black!"
Phoebus winked. "Throw paint on him next time. He'll look like a unicorn got sick and puked up a rainbow!"
"Hmm. Pulling a prank of that level on the Minister of Justice would take teamwork," Esmerelda said with feigned contemplation. "I might need to enlist the help of someone brave and clever…like you!" Untying the scarf from around the flowers, she flung it around the captain's neck and yanked him in for a kiss. His breath smelled strongly of alcohol, as usual.
Phoebus had a front row seat for the remainder of the performance. Clopin kept trying to catch Esmerelda's eye, but she pointedly ignored him. They had had this conversation a million times. Yes, she knew that he didn't like Phoebus. Yes, she knew that Phoebus was supposed to be turning her in to his boss, and that was the entire reason that she wanted him to be romantically attracted to her. Let him decide to be the knight in shining armor who defied his horrid old boss and rescued his lady love!
Phoebus insisted on escorting Esmerelda to the door after her performance had finished. Pulling her dress back on over the stocking, she walked to the door on his arm. He smelled even more powerfully of alcohol now, and his footing seemed less than steady.
"Phoebus," she scolded teasingly, "you shouldn't drink so much."
"Aw, babe, gimme a break," he drawled. "I work for the worst employer in France! I gotta do something to deal with the strain!"
"It's that bad, huh?" she asked sympathetically. They were outside now.
"Oh, he's awful. 'Don't question my authority, Phoebus. The fact that you could think I might be wrong proves that you are very stupid, Phoebus.'" The blonde boy laughed, then continued to impersonate his boss. "'Phoebus, tell me something. Is it unfair of a man to ask his employee to get his brain out of the clouds when the employee does not even have a brain?'"
Esmerelda didn't respond immediately. "Babe?" he prodded. "Wassup?"
"Phoebus." A smile floated over her features. "Turn around."
Not all heroes wore capes; some of them wore flowing black robes.
At least, that was how Minister Claude Frollo saw himself. Frollo had been elated at his inauguration as Minister of Justice. (Yes, contrary to the belief of the stupid peasant folk, Frollo was capable of experiencing happiness, and occasionally said happiness was not a result of him sending someone to the gallows.) He dove into his responsibilities with a fierce eagerness, ready to be the knight in shining armor who righted wrongs and served to the guilty their just desserts.
What he had not expected was that his career would involve settling one stupid peasant quarrel after another. He had spent the entire afternoon pretending to care about two brothers squabbling over the terms of their deceased father's last will and testament. To make matters worse, both of the brothers had hired the most interruptive of lawyers. If Frollo heard the words "OBJECTION, YOUR HONOR!" just one more damn time, somebody was getting their teeth knocked out with a gavel.
Frollo desperately needed to clear his head. He dug his feet into the stirrups as he rode through the streets, the evening air cool and pleasant against his face. Forget the tiring day, forget everything, just relax and enjoy riding the horse.
Mentally exhausted, the minister let Snowball more or less lead the way. The horseshoes beat out a soothing rhythm on the paved streets of Paris. Frollo relaxed as he listened.
The minister's irritation suddenly returned when Snowball decided to walk past the Boar's Head. Immediately pulling back the reins, Frollo glared at the blonde boy who was performing an outlandish impersonation of his boss. And that—that girl was with him!
"Sancta Maria Mater Dei!" The judge swore under his breath, angrily clenching the reins like a drowning man gripping a liferope. If Frollo had told that blonde idiot once, he'd told him a thousand times: stop flirting with that girl! La Esmerelda was nothing but trouble. Phoebus was too dumb to realize that, but the Minister of Justice was not so stupid.
Gypsies were a sneaky bunch; they'd stick a knife between your ribs sooner than look at you. Not that Frollo was particularly concerned about the captain's safety, but he was concerned about any information that the temptress could be wheedling out of Phoebus. Perhaps she was even trying to make Phoebus turn on his boss!
At the girl's prompting, Phoebus turned around, and his blue eyes flew wide open. "Erm…uh…SIR!" Phoebus saluted hastily, almost knocking himself in the head.
"Come closer, Phoebus." Bewildered, the captain obeyed.
Had Phoebus been sober, he might have been quick enough to duck the slender hand that struck him across the face. Frollo pulled the back of his hand deliberately across the captain, jeweled rings plowing bloody furrows across the man's face.
"Ow," Phoebus said dully.
"Give me a cloth," the judge requested offhandedly, surveying the blood that dripped from his hand.
"Huh?" Phoebus blinked.
"I said, give me a cloth, you idiot." Frollo grabbed Phoebus' shirt and ripped out a sizeable chunk of fabric on which to wipe his hand. Phoebus, putting two and two together for once in his life, ripped off another piece of shirt to wipe his face.
One of the barmaids had stepped out to witness the commotion. "Oh, Captain Phoebus, your chest looks sooooooooooo muscular," she drooled, staring at the sizeable hole in his shirt. "Oh, here, let me help you with those cuts on your face!"
Esmerelda pulled a face at an oblivious Phoebus, who allowed himself to be escorted away by the barmaid. The gypsy did not follow. Perhaps she was smarter than Frollo gave her credit for.
Yet Esmerelda definitely had more guts than common sense, as her next actions proved. Hands on her hips, the girl spun around to face him. "So, did the Judge of Paris actually miss my performance today? For shame!"
Inwardly, Frollo grinned evilly. The foolish girl had stepped forward and offered herself as a scapegoat for the minister to take out his frustration upon. "I had no intention of upsetting you, my dear," he replied coolly, keeping his tone aloof. "Though I must say I'm flattered that you value my admiration so highly."
The mock anger on Esmerelda's face turned to genuine anger at his words, which pleased him greatly. Only an idiot would engage in verbal swordplay with Judge Claude Frollo. He wished to rouse her anger further. "Seeing as this troubles you so greatly, I could easily arrange a…private performance."
Esmerelda quickly stiffened her face to hide her shock and fear, but she was not so quick that Frollo could not see her reaction. He sat back a little straighter in the saddle, relishing his triumph over Mademoiselle Sassy Mouth.
The girl forced a cheery smile. "Then it's a date, Frollo! I will be at the palace to see you this evening." She smiled boldly with a deliberate small coyness, curtsied and began taking steps backward.
Bold words for a foreigner, but the minister was not unduly surprised. Cornered animals generally tried to bite. "I look forward to it," he replied calmly, swinging the horse around to ride back to the Palace of Justice.
Frollo allowed himself to indulge in an evil grin. At last, he had gotten revenge on that impudent witch. There was no escape for her. If she chickened out and never showed up, it would mean that she admitted that she feared him, and it would give Frollo an uncomfortable reality to rub in her face should she attempt to defy him.
And if she actually came…
Frollo's grin deepened. Why, it was his duty to instruct people how to behave, and when they so boldly came to his door and asked for lessons…
The minister gloated during the entire ride back to the palace. Now, gypsy, it's your turn. If you choose to come to the palace tonight, I win. If you chose NOT to come to the palace tonight, I win. He settled down more comfortably in the saddle, a smug grin spreading over his thin face. Checkmate.