**Author's note – the following chapter is heavily based off of an abandoned fanfic I found online. The story was so good that I thought it deserved to be finished credit to that author even though he/she is no longer active **
Esmeralda: Esmeralda's retreating steps came to a halt when she foolishly looked up, catching the judge's penetrating gaze on her. She had hoped to be the one to exit first after their awkward conversation while still appearing brave, but it was her mistake that she looked back at him. That icy stare of his had the power to leave her feeling terribly inadequate. She stood still, not realizing she had not sucked in a breath until the clicking of the horse's hooves grew faint.
Her bare shoulders sagged when at last she allowed herself to move. Lifting her emerald eyes she caught sight of a few passerbys, some were even gypsies. Their expressions showed both confusion and a hint of betrayal as to why she sought out audience with their most powerful enemy. If there was a rock big enough she would have crawled under it! Pushing herself to break into a run, she flew through the streets wildly, running towards the outskirts of Paris to the cemetery. As she ran she could still see visions of Frollo's eyes on her, they gleamed unnaturally with a clear and obviously undisguised hunger. It made her run faster. She began to toy with the 'what if' scenarios. If she does not return to the palace tonight, what will happen? Would he just forget the whole thing, not putting much thought in it anyway? Chide her whenever next he saw her?
Esmerelda finally flung herself down on her cot and lay gasping for breath, struggling to even comprehend the horrible mistake she had just made. Maybe she should hunker down in her wagon for the rest of the night…no, that was exactly what he wanted, her to cower in fear of him. Forget her bold mockery at the Festival of Fools that all of Paris had witnessed; she would be branded a braggart and a coward who made fun of people until she got caught…at which point she fled like a terrified rabbit.
Hiding was not an option; therefore, the only remaining choice was to show up. Prove to him that she wasn't afraid of him…no, that was exactly what he wanted, her to walk right into his iron claws! How could she possibly be so stupid? Esmerelda knew she was a wanted woman; she was an illegal gypsy immigrant who knew the workings of other illegal gypsy immigrants and might be persuaded by some vile means of torture to tattle on her compatriots.
This is the most dangerous decision I have made in my life, but let the record show that I was not afraid to face the most horrifying man in Paris. Practically mechanically with a vacant expression, the zingara moved about her wagon down in the Court of Miracles. She pulled out a red dress to wear from a large trunk. The thought crossed her mind to inform her people, plan their own trap, a counter attack when Frollo's guard was lowered by her own sensual dance. Her eyes closed as she stood before the mirror, the red dress draped perfectly to her body's every curve. Slowly she looked back at her reflection, envisioning Frollo's gaze on her. The thought made her ill. Esmerelda was no stranger to flirting her way out of trouble—it was the main reason that the law enforcement hadn't shipped her out of France yet—but weak-minded minions were one thing and the head honcho was another.
Despite her well-placed trepidation, Esmerelda realized the enormity of the opportunity she'd been given. Get inside the palace of justice, speak with the minister, find out what on earth went on in his incomprehensible brain. Who knew what all information she could gather to give back to Clopin? Of course, Clopin would be too protective of his little sister to allow her to do this. She needed to slip back out, back up to the ground level without being seen. If anyone, saw her dressed up like this, especially anyone who had overheard the conversation outside of the Boar's Head, they would be highly suspicious. Grabbing her cloak, Esmeralda quickly exited her wagon, running for the tunnels when the area appeared deserted. Her bare feet carried her through the tunnels and up to the cemetery grounds. There she saw the sun disappearing, the night was taking over. Her heart sank a little more as she moved in the direction of the city, shadows now forming as the sun diminished.
So very careful to avoid catching the eye of fellow gypsies in the streets, Esmeralda padded her way to the palace. She felt incredibly foolish for not having a better plan, for not even telling anyone she
was here. Just walk right in to this elaborate prison Frollo had for her. A shiver snared her once again, making her start to turn around when two guards were at her side. Too late! "The minister has been
expecting you, gypsy. This way." They both looked so smug, she should kick them and run, but instead she just followed silently. She was escorted in through a hallway and onward to a vastly large room. The doors swung open where she was deposited inside. She was told to wait there, her host would be in momentarily. They deliberately slammed the doors shut behind her, it echoed loudly. Now she was alone, waiting for the 'beast' of the castle to emerge…
Frollo: Frollo sat in his study, flipping through the pages of an old Latin bible. He muttered unto himself, lost in the ancient scriptures, when a knock on the door interrupted his affair. He responded in a vexed tone, startled by the sudden noise. "What is it," the judge spat.
A palace guard warily replied, too nervous to open the door. "Sir, we've escorted the gypsy girl, as you ordered." He dashed away as quickly as he came.
Frollo rose from his seat. A crass smile breached his sunken face. "She actually came," he thought, shaking his head in pleasant disbelief. The audacity, the arrogance the emerald enchantress possessed to heed the demands of her enemy. An incautious girl, but brave, to freely entangle herself in the strings of such a grievous fate. However, that notion only caused Frollo to worry. His mind toyed with this suspicious circumstance. She may have come alone, but not without some sort of protection or plot. Esmeralda was a gypsy after all, and Frollo knew better then to underestimate such slippery creatures. Incidentally, with every Romani in the city after his head, the minister had acquired a few tricks of his own for the sake of protection. His hand pressed to his waist, to reassure himself that his concealed carry was still safely buckled to his belt. The knife, unnoticeable under his flowing robes, had claimed the life of more than one fool with delusions of heroism. Esmerelda may think herself clever, but the judge held one resource she lacked: a lifetime of experience.
The Palace of Justice carried the haunting trait of abysmal atrophy. Once trapped inside, death was the only appropriate escape, though anything would do to avoid the malignant shadows. The stoned keep would suffocate the girl if left unsupervised too long. Therefore, Claude stripped himself of his judicial attire and hastily exited his chamber, tearing through the darkness with wicked intentions.
What should he do? The torture chamber felt too generic and unbefitting for such a notorious gypsy. No, he had much more appropriate plans for this siren. The minister's chest tightened. His nostrils flared as a passing thought flittered in his mind. Helpless to contain his amusement, he grinned almost violently. This poor, foolish girl was accustomed to using her good looks to manipulate guards and convince men to give her money. The remedy to her problem was straightforward enough. Frollo was a pure man, dutiful, and forgiven of any sin. His faith in God would guide him through any tantalizing tricks she fabricated, and it was his mission to save lost souls from damnation. He would observe her dance this evening, for his invitation was genuine, but any hint of devil-work would prove dismal for the gypsy girl. He only hoped her immoral nature would surface quickly; his scheme required a full evening.
Reaching the end of his trek, Frollo paused before wooden entryway. He extended his arm then ripped it back to his side, needing a moment to regain his usual demeanor. Swallowing the tension jammed in his throat, Frollo gripped the icy handle, flinging the door open as if to summon a gale. He heard faint gasp as he entered.
"Good evening, Esmeralda."
Esmeralda: Minutes ticked endlessly by. Her breathing echoed off these godawful vaulted ceilings, it was nerve-racking! Padding around the room, keeping an eye out for any kind of exit if necessary, but there was none. Any windows were very high up and with bars across them. The judge chose this room purposely. She was sealed in a cage and only he held the key. To what, her death or salvation? The question of 'why she was here' kept pounding her head repeatedly, it gave her a small headache.
Rubbing the base of her neck where the most tension was, Esmeralda glared at the plush furnishings. Her people could eat for weeks by selling some of this gaudy junk! Why was she here? The memory of those eyes of his on her, that voice demanding lowly, it made her hug her arms around herself, disgusted with this revealing red dress she wore. She felt too vulnerable, she wanted to keep the cloak on, but knew he would want to see everything she was offering. One thought did make her smile, by her coming here for him he would be distracted and not out killing her race. Yet.
Esmeralda drifted down the aisle to look closely at the large cross. It was nothing like the warmth she felt in Notre Dame. Frollo's so-called religion was nothing but cold and judgmental. The door behind her was opened with a roughness, it caused a rippling vibration and she gasped out. That low voice once more addressed her, she tugged on the cloak's material to close it tighter around herself. She nodded to him, unable to bite back a little, "Is it? I suppose for you it is, oui?" She walked back up the aisle, stopping midway. He looked reserved from what she could see at this distance-of course he would, he held her fate in his hands.
Frollo: Her voice whispered courage, but her eyes shouted lies. Yet, the girl's snide demeanor never
failed to amuse. Phoebus' leniency with her was quite obvious; after the girl received her instructions on how to properly respect authority, the captain of the guard was next on the list of people in dire need of correction.
"That sharp tongue of yours is most unbecoming. I did not invite you for idle conversation," Frollo responded, sounding almost disappointed, which he was. His sight shifted up and down, scanning over her petite form. He curiously cocked his head. "You're not going to perform in that old rag, are you?" he questioned rhetorically, closing the gap between them.
His imposing figure approached with predatory intent. Like a lion with a cornered lamb, his solid gaze held her, instilling her with fear until the time came to pounce. He'd noticed her defensive posture. Whatever she didn't want him to view was hidden underneath that cloak, and Frollo was determined to unveil exactly what that was. As succulent as what lie beneath could be, he still had a duty to his life. One cut-throat gypsy was all it took to end the minister's reign.
Frollo was surprised by how still she was. Surely the girl couldn't be that frightened, but open opportunity was not a luxury the judge could waste. There were no guards, no peering commoners, and one perplexed gypsy only an arm's length away. He felt it too shameful, too unbecoming, but his dark heart coaxed him otherwise. A million thoughts raced through his head, but all were quieted by the sensation of skin beneath his fingertips. Cupping her chin, was it really so wrong? He only wished to look upon those emerald eyes as he spoke; a wicked notion cloaked by an innocent endeavor.
"Remove that hideous rag, gypsy, and be quick about it!" His tone was firm and cold. "You cannot shield your plots in a house of God. He sees all…as do I."
Esmeralda: Not one for idle chit-chat, eh, Frollo? Did this mean he basically revealed his true
intention for her presence here? The way he stared at her left her unnerved, as though he was examining her closely. She snickered a little at the insult of her cloak. It almost made her want to reveal it once belonged to some snobby noble woman. One of her gypsy clansmen had lifted it off a clothes' line years ago to give to her as a gift. There was more than one and of the same color and style that hung there, the owner would hardly miss it, but mentioning it was stolen would not be good to bring up, even if she was not the thief. It just made her smile he would refer to it now as just some rag. That smile faded quickly as his shadow fell over her, creeping closer to her.
Her fingers fiddled in a nervous gesture with the edges of the cloak, not even realizing what she was doing. She sucked in a sharp breath when his cold fingers gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. There was that last shred of defiance in her that wanted to scream out, tell him if he so badly wanted the cloak off he could remove it himself. That would turn things so ugly that she dared not utter those words. A quick reminder filled her head, this was her doing to even approach him and bring up the missed performance. Esmeralda jerked back her head from his hand, nodding to him in a curt fashion. "Right, then, I suppose we should get on with this evening."
Her fingers tugged at the drawstrings, her emerald eyes stared back at him to see how he reacted as she pushed back the fabric. The indigo material slid off her bare shoulders, down the contours of the red dress to pool at her feet. Standing now in front of the judge in just the red dress that was similar to the one she wore for the festival. No pink in it, all red with faux gold trim for the bodice lacing in the front. She kept her head up high and mustered a small twirl. Her stomach fluttered a little in queasiness feeling the heat of his eyes on her. Just give a small dance, like the one in the courtyard earlier today so this evening can end and she can be on her way. When her eyes looked back at his, she knew that idea would not be so simple. He probably was already hatching an idea of his own.
Kicking up her cloak with a bare foot, Esmeralda draped it on a nearby chair and turned back to look at Frollo over her shoulder. "Are you going to sit as I dance for you or do you want to stand there?"
Frollo: Of all the outfits, she had to wear that. She was quite a sight, dressed in an array of gold and
scarlet fabrics. He'd expected the gypsy in her normal attire, not some flashy garb. Never failed to surprise, that impudent trouble-causing slut.
At least her compliance was welcomed. He did not wish to tarnish such a rare flower before her time. The night was young, and opportunity would arise to strip the girl's defiance. Why not partake in what she offered? He'd already tread so far into his ruse, and there was no need to rush the endeavor. The stifling palace walls were sure to expose her true nature, and Frollo knew exactly how to tame the wild zingara. Yet, he still felt sickly, gawking perversely at her supple form. Sancta Maria Mater Dei, the demon's power was strong, forcing him to behave in such an improper manner. Maria would forgive, or provide the strength to strike this devil, but was it still a sin if he enjoyed her plight?
As the robe drifted to the floor, Frollo tugged at his collar. He felt a bit heated by her appearance, but concealed his nervousness with a stoic disposition. Each and every curve was silhouetted by her outfit. He'd never viewed such exotic beauty, but only Hell could produce such a fiery, tantalizing creature. Temptation fell heavy on his heart, as his eyes traced her bare skin. He mashed his teeth together, swallowing a retort when she teased him with a twirl. Fervid flames kindled within him, and her tart remark only aroused his frustration. Though, even with all her pleasant distractions, he did not falter. Frollo's mind was not weak; he had resisted the foolish attempts of many women who attempted to flirt their way out of well-deserved punishment.
Without a word the minister walked across the room, sitting in the chair adjacent to her robe. Frollo crossed his legs and propped his head atop his knuckles. His eyes glanced over her once more, both to assert his position, and demean her. He flicked his wrist in a circular fashion, instructing the gypsy to get on with her disgusting display. His command fell terse, irritated by her tone, but he would soon correct her. "Dance…"
Esmeralda: No sound came from the judge once her question was asked. She thought of asking again, but knew better to not make that mistake. From the view at him over her shoulder told her his mind was elsewhere, somewhere that it was clear she too had been taken with him. And what was it he was imagining? She knew all too well, remembering how he was in the cathedral towards her. It made her knees buckle a little, her inside voice was screaming at her at how this was a terrible idea. So what if he missed her performance earlier, this is absurd! That pious act he's playing is just that, an act! He would bed her so quickly if given the chance and here she was, giving him the opportunity to pluck.
Her people, Clopin especially, would be so disappointed in her. They are safe for now, that should mean something, that should make her feel better. With another glance at Frollo, she felt like a small animal that lay lame in front of a lion's cave. He intended to make a meal out of her, she knew that hungry look all too well. Despite the fact that she earned a living as a pole dancer, Esmerelda was an independent woman with no desire to become yet another notch in some man's belt. It was not an easy task, but she was always able to avoid the clutches of determined men. None have been more determined to control her mentally, emotionally and most of all physically than Judge Claude Frollo. Despite how he was able to cause such deep-set fear into anyone who was foolish enough to come in close contact with him, there was still a curiosity about him that forever gnawed at her. She knew it was the reason why she purposely came here tonight. Why would a man like Claude Frollo, who appeared to have the blackest heart, no soul, kill without any mercy and yet be devout to God? And for a man who fiercely claimed to be above what mortal man feels, why did he fancy her? Unless she read him wrong, ever since the festival it seemed an unhealthy obsession was brewing, but again, why? Didn't he hate her race?
One word was uttered off those thin lips, one word that normally would make her smile. How cold and commanding it rolled out, it made her not make a sound of protest. Esmeralda had no music, no tambourine, not even her pole. (The judge was much too proper to keep one of those in his home.) She knew Frollo would not want any excuses, no delays and so, she danced. Her voice lightly hummed a simple Romani song in time to her steps. Twirling her dress with each step, her body swayed in rhythm. She could feel the minister's eyes scorching her, memorizing every curve, picturing her completely naked. Esmerelda wanted to vomit.
She closed her eyes; if she couldn't see the circling hawk waiting to snatch her, perhaps she could convince herself that he wasn't there. Oddly it was one of her more relaxed dances she had ever done. Her mind allowed her to envision she was dancing out in a vast meadow. The earth below her feet, the wind blowing through her raven hair, tickling her hands and arms as they stretched upward to the sky. A smile graced her red lips, eyes remained closed. As long as she didn't let her mind realize how close she was to being snared, her dance was carefree. How long could she avoid the inevitable, how long could she keep dancing before her freedom was snatched from her?
Frollo: Unbound by mortal concern, Frollo's eyes sliced into the girl's performance, memorizing every motion with feral potency. Her sweet voice drummed in his ears, and his breath wavered to a shallow, uneven pace. Anticipation overwhelmed him, yet it was not an unpleasant sentiment. Viral, twisted corruption disguised by flashes of serenity, that was the gypsy's true nature. Only a demon could perform such suggestive gestures and appear so calm in the wake of calamity. He felt tense and unnerved, watching her dance. Wild and violent became his thoughts while he observed her. He muttered a small prayer, unwilling to fall prey to her deceit, but he still sensed a twinge of primal desire.
It was then she shut her eyes; why, he could not perceive. Was this some sort of trick, or was she that naive to lower her guard before the Minister of Justice? A spark surged, igniting an idea. The chance to
strike was upon him; no longer could he wait. Swiftly, and without a sound, the judge rose from his seat. She was foolishly turned away, entranced within her own spell, when his hands clamped her wrists. He
felt her jolt and struggle, but held her firm, pulling her petite body against him. He buried his face in her ebony tendrils. Her scent drove him mad. She struggled further, but her warmth only fueled his perversions. He grit his teeth, grinning fiercely at her desperation. This was it, his moment of triumph over the notorious she-witch. Playful were his words as they rolled off his lips.
"This is your own undoing, you understand." His hand slipped down her waist, the other covered her mouth. "No one will hear you scream. No one will believe a foreign-born exotic dancer like yourself."
A caged songbird may sing, but is still stripped the ability of flight. Her freedom, the girl's most cherished treasure, was now claimed by the most powerful man in Paris. She fought to escape the nightmare Frollo snatched her into. Her futile efforts proved amusing. His control was absolute.
He wished to tease her, to express her downfall. The savage words scratched her ears. His tone condescending and elated. "You dare challenge my faith and taunt my virtue?" he smiled, tightening
his grip and pulling her closer. "I should have had your head ages ago, but, unlike those weary peasants say, I am not unkind. You believe your misguided freedom to be genuine, my dear? I own this city. Every
district, every citizen. I control your fate, Esmeralda. I always have," his corrosive breath burned into her. "I allowed you to run free, yet here you are. Did you truly believe you could derogate my authority
without consequence?"
His lips tread lightly down her neck, planting a dark kiss upon her skin. So foolish of her to think she could charm her way out of this. He would punish her well for toying with him.
"I am a holy man. No matter how I tame your wild spirit, I'll be forgiven," he spoke, ripping her around to face him. "And so, gypsy, I give you a choice. Either you take off that repulsive dress, or I'll remove it for you."
Esmeralda: Scarlet red swirled around her, her arms stretched upward. She could feel the heat of danger, knew she was already in far too deep, but she danced anyway. The meadow she envisioned herself in, the last shred of freedom, grew instantly dark with storm clouds rolling in to snatch her off her feet. The icy grip on her wrist and being yanked against the folds of velvet had Esmeralda yelp out. No, she was not surprised by this and yet still she gasped out with her emerald eyes wild with fear. Frollo brought her back against his chest; she could feel exactly how he felt about her dance, though she knew he would insist otherwise. She struggled and bucked like a wild filly being handled under a cruel master. It did nothing but have him grip her harder. His nose was thrust into her hair, it was that lecherous scene of his in the cathedral all over again. She started to protest to that when she felt his hand slide over her mouth. Oh. God. No.
The heat of his breath was scorching next to her ear, his voice was low and deadly. At the feel of his lips on her neck her body squirmed and arched. She heard him groan, and realized her struggles were actually turning him on more. He was just like every other man she had encountered, Frollo only chose to hide behind religion to cleanse his dirty soul. It sickened her to hear him say he believes he'll be forgiven for what he plans to do with her. What the hell kind of God does he pray to who would allow this to happen? His kiss on her neck burned her skin-yet also sent a strange feeling through her too. She breathed out heavily into his hand. Feelings were mixed in obvious fear and also something dark and foreign.
She was spun around to face him, her mouth free again, but he gripped her shoulders. The choice he placed upon her could not be any more direct. No matter what, he wanted her stripped down naked, right here, in a room that claimed to be so holy. She assumed that he intended to beat her, or similar, but was fully aware that her naked body on the floor would only inflame the animal within him. With a cry out, she pulled herself back out of his hands, her emerald eyes blazing.
"It could be said that I was naive to come here, but the arrangement was that I come to just dance. Curiosity I admit made me come. To see if you are a man of your word as you claim to be, but you are no different than other men who think only with their genitals. You are not the first to try and bed me because they could not control themselves, but yet I am still virtuous."
"Bed you?" His hand flew to his waist, reaching no doubt for a weapon. "Do I look hungry enough to you to want an apple that half the town has taken bites of?"
Esmeralda met his eyes in a challenging glare, refusing to cower at his scathing words. "Your assumptions are wrong about me, Frollo. There would be some nights I would starve instead of take up the offer of some strange man's warm bed. I dance to feed myself, my people, but nothing more than that." She stepped back just a little. The room was vastly large, but the only door to escape was locked and the windows were too high. What would she do, run laps, place herself between furniture to fend him off? She breathed out shakily, feeling her stomach grow queasy, but she did not lower her eyes from him.
"Do you think because you own this entire city that you can also claim me as well, do with me as you see fit, like those other men have tried before?" Her feet stepped back a little more. "Or, prove you are righteous as you say and bid me a fond farewell?" Her entire body was shivering, ready to bolt into a sprint around this room if he tried to reach out at her. This was going to be one of the longest nights of her life.
Frollo: Frollo stumbled back when she snatched herself free, her bright eyes pressing into his soul. He
was surprised the gypsy had this much fight within her, but cornered animals did tend to go down biting. His frustration seethed and festered, boiling over into an untamed fury. She was the one offering
herself and coaxing the devil to feed off his piety. How dare she? How dare she accuse the honorable Judge Claude Frollo of such slander?
"You expect me to believe such false atrocities? I know your kind better than to assume you'd be any different! You people aren't worth the dirt they sleep in, and your words worth even less!" he sibilated, enraged by her defiance.
This was the truth that lie beneath. A man far beyond the reach of sanity, and damned by his own corruption. Right and wrong held no meaning; his ideas of virtue, duty, and honor were all self-proclaimed. Yet, even facing the worst of predicaments—genocide, unjust torture, failed trials of faith—Frollo still believed he was pure and his actions forgiven. She'd catechized him and challenged his integrity, which was only fabricated to protect himself. The barriers he constructed within prevented his perversions from consuming him, but Esmeralda's words tore through his defenses, a grave mistake on her part. Before her now stood a broken creature ready to leap into his own madness and drag the gypsy girl along with him.
His breath billowed forth. A coarse message filtered through.
"I do not only command your compliance, I expect it. You choose to make my evening far more difficult than need be," Frollo threatened, advancing towards her. "You're in no position to question my faith, or
spout lies of your 'virtue.' Those born of sin are unclean from the start," he paused, eyes gleaming, and set to pounce.
"My orders were clear."
He reached out, attempting to snatch the girl back into his grasp. Her agility proved a challenge, but the minister's resolve was just as fit. She'd made her way to the door, but the handle did not cater to her
whims. He pursued, tearing through an array of gaudy obstacles, intent on capturing her.
"Running won't help you!" he shouted, closing in once again. Gracefully, she evaded him, darting to the other side of the chapel, but fell a second too late. Frollo's nails bit into her shoulder, tearing her back
into his robes. His hand clamped her wrist, she bucked and flailed, spitting curses, and fighting for her freedom. Her vigorous thrashing yielded a cautious swing, one filled with contempt.
A sudden, sharp, solid, strike stung the minister's cheek. The blow was swift and true. She'd slapped him, a dangerous move conceived from desperation. He did not bow to the pain, but instead sat in a stupor, stunned by her bold action. For a moment, he thought to strike her, but held his ground. The room quieted and Frollo's wrath dissipated. His mind unclouded, but his intentions remained wicked.
Moonlight at his back, he stood gallant and strong, dauntless gray eyes surveying his quarry. His tone weighed different than before: less than perplexed, but more than melancholy. He released a sigh, and loosened his grip, though not enough to allow reprieve. A rare sight to behold, a side unseen by many, one he concealed from the world. There was a sudden sadness, even a hint of regret or disarray. A curious creature this minister was, bent and broken by her denial.
"Tell me, girl," he began; despondency filled his voice. "You say curiosity brought you to my keep. You're not foolhardy. Stepping inside my palace only spells demise for your kind, but your willingness exceeds
your blatant disregard for your own safety. Why then? What peculiar notion of me could have persuaded you to enter this web? What is it you desire?"
Esmeralda: It was like staring into a volcano that was about to burst apart, burning her with its deadly blast. With each step she took back, Frollo advanced right on her. The insults on her people and against her virginity did not surprise her. "Of course you would deny anything I say. In your mind only you are pure, and I'm nothing but some demon spawned from hell sent to destroy you. Right? You seriously believe that garbage?"
Esmeralda shook her head, her teeth clenched with annoyance at his insults, but as he kept advancing on her there was also still fear. His hands reached out at her, making her stumble back and break into a full run. She was caged in; there was nowhere really to hide. Furniture was knocked aside, loudly crashing behind her as Frollo was completely unhinged, chasing after her. He literally sounded like an animal, some wild beast right on her heel. Esmeralda thought her heart would pound out of her chest as she tore through the room, her eyes watering, even making the mistake at going to the door. It was locked still, that hadn't changed, but her mind was in such a desperate frenzy to put any kind of distance between herself and Frollo.
His fingers clawed into her bare shoulder just as she jumped away from the door. The pain and suddenness made her shriek out and sprawl to the floor. She was yanked up right away and pulled into his suffocating embrace. Any kind of thoughts she had before of trying to reason with him were instantly severed, fear and anger embedded into her chest as she struggled and fought him. Her hand flew up on its own accord in defense and connected with his jaw, it even made a cracking sound when
she cried out at him. "NOOO!" It deafened everything in the room. Frollo lessened his grip on her to where she could wiggle free if she wanted to, she even started to until she looked up into his eyes. What had she done? She actually struck Frollo, the most fearsome man of all of Paris and her hand had cracked his face hard. She should get out of his grip while she had the chance, but she kept staring into his face and it was as if something broke inside him. A sight never seen before. Was it a trick or was this real? Only their breathing was heard, hers a little more shaky. No more thunderous voice of his raining on her.
There was strange calmness to Frollo's voice when he finally did speak, but it didn't sound like he was going to attack at a moment's notice either. Sadness? Esmeralda blinked in confusion at this. What is
happening here? Her hand stayed limply in his hand, his grip was so loose now. Emphasis on the 'why' was between them. "I…I don't really know exactly. I am trying to make sense of it myself. You are the
most feared man in the city, only someone with half a brain would enter here on their own. Still, I came because…" Esmeralda quieted, looked down at their hands. His was pale and refined, almost passable for a normal human being. When relaxed, it was hard to believe just moments ago they were curled and ugly on her person.
"I came to see if there was at all a man behind this ruthless monster everyone says you are." This was going to get her killed. One swift move, he'd yank her forward again and devour her without any mercy. She could feel her knees getting shaky from standing, the over exertion and fear was weighing on her. Wanting to pull back and sit but at the same time she now felt she couldn't move, shouldn't move. Wouldn't dare lower her guard just yet.
"Why do you hate me? God taught us to love our fellow man, but why do you have so much hate in your heart?" Her breathing was forced to be calm, her heart rate even returned to a normal thump. Esmeralda held her head high, looking straight at Frollo, this broken monster that stood only an arm's length away
Frollo: "Monster," he thought. There was no truer description. Whether citizen or traveler, politician or peasant, Frollo's wrath consumed all he felt were in defiance. This mangled husk of a man, hated by all, became the antagonist of children's tales, and the whispers that stirred nightmares. Over the years, he'd altered into a bloodthirsty fiend—a ravenous wolf among sheep, drunk with a jaunty madness, and void of human compassion. Yet, the question lay untouched of how he became such a creature.
The wars claimed countless combatant men braver then Frollo could ever be. The judge learned to survive in this cold, harsh world not only with brawn, but cunning, intelligence, and opportunity. His road was long, winding, and paved with brutality. By the time he'd snatched his seat as Minister of Justice, the path was beaten straight and narrow, with only an all-consuming darkness at its end. He'd become blinded, corrupt, clouded, confused, and fallen prey to the essence of power. No longer a
man, but an empty vessel that quickly filled with self-loathing.
He clawed his way up the ranks, raised an army, barricaded himself within the palace walls, and let twenty years slip by in what was now a fleeting moment drifting away on the wind. His struggle remained futile, however, for his mortality always circled overhead. Like a vulture the looming notion hovered, patiently waiting for his reign to end, and ready to strip his memory from the world. Therefore, it was his immortal soul Frollo soon coddled, constantly justifying as to why he'd sit with a chorus of angles. In the beginning, his faith was true, but those days sank into the horizon long ago. Like most men, Frollo was a fickle creature, boasting false claims that only served the purpose of granting him sleep through the night.
Esmeralda's words resonated within him, weighing heavy on his heart. She was too young to know how hatred begins, how it consumes all in its wake, and how impossible it is to subdue. It fills every muscle, every vein, every thought, and strikes even the most noble-hearted individuals. Claude's mind hazed with images of smoke and fire. His heart swelled with longing and loss. He'd repressed those horrid memories, the ones that sparked his wrath those many years ago. Faces came to him, all charred and ugly, lost and forgotten in time. Beyond that lie the source, the chapter where it all began. Pages written long ago, but the ink never dried.
A familiar warmth rested in her eyes. Nothing spawned from the fires of Hell could host such a tender quality. He felt oddly conflicted, unsure of what was the proper response. His concrete ideals of right and wrong quickly faded to gray. Rationality downed beneath waves of instinct. It was only a moment of weakness, but lengthy enough to conceive a plot.
Pulling her into an awkward embrace, his lips found hers—an opportunity sealed in ambition. Frollo's eyes shut tight, suffocating any form of regret. He didn't know how she'd react. Quite frankly, he didn't care. Even if it was the fires of Hell leading him astray, for the first time in twenty years, a light shined on his path.
Esmeralda: With her breathing now relaxed, emerald eyes stared up to blackness. A dark abyss. Frollo
had never before looked more pitiful than he was now. He said nothing, his eyes were distant, forlorn, it made her a tad uneasy. In the back of her mind she wondered if it was just a trick, that he was waiting for another opportunity to lunge at her again, chase her around and throw things. Her hand reached to touch her shoulder, feeling for any blood he may have drawn in his frenzy. It only stung when she touched it from how he grabbed her, but no blood.
More silence and still no response from him. What was he thinking; what plans were forming inside that twisted mind of his? On a faint shaky breath she started to say something, asking him about his thoughts when suddenly his arms moved and snatched her again. It was not painful, only taking her by surprise. She was pulled close against him and then… she gasped, eyes widened like saucers when his lips closed over hers. A whimper from her became muffled.
She struggled just a little, mainly from shock, but did not pull away. His lips were soft and heated, his arms kept her in place. In mid kiss she managed to bring her hands up to cup his cheek, staring up at him in wild confusion. His eyes betrayed his emotions; he was so broken, seeking her out as a form of lifeline. This powerful man who never before showed any weakness was now just a man, a lonely broken man in front of her.
A very strange feeling hit her the more she looked at him. Against her better judgment, she timidly pressed her lips to him again, feeling herself drift her body closer against his robes. With her legs still shaky, she found herself drooping down to the floor, but he crumpled with her, pulling her into his lap. Frollo hooked his left arm under her back, pulling her to his chest. His right hand cradled her head, thumb caressing her cheek, while his lips gently and persistently tugged at her own. She twitched when his tongue flicked across her mouth, coaxing her lips apart. Heart hammering, she reciprocated his touch, stroking her tongue over his. She could taste mint leaves on his breath, his tongue warmed against the roof of her mouth like alcohol; the sensation was hardly unlikeable. The minister's soft robes enveloped her, warm and comforting. It brought back memories of when she was little, when she was sad or scared or cold and Clopin would bundle her up in a blanket and hold her as he gently rocked her back and forth. How strange that the horrid old Minister of Justice could make her feel this way.
Amongst the overturned furniture in the large room, remnants of the inner battle the two had fought against, the stones of their thick barrier between each other began to crumble.
Frollo: His maddening thoughts fell silent when her hand brushed his cheek. She'd grasped some form of
sufferance towards him, which truthfully was more than he deserved. The minister did not protest, however. Her sentiment was enthusiastically received.
She withered to the floor and Frollo followed suit, reluctant to part from his dancer. Bathing in her warmth, he let unencumbered curiosity lead his exploration, cold fingers tracing her hips. She nestled into his embrace, the sensation both foreign and strangely welcoming. So the minister pulled her closer, resting her petite figure on his lap. She lay in his arms, so still, so quiet, so beautiful. The minister realized beyond any doubt that he could not go through with his initial plan. He was a good man, after all, and his conscience told him full well that Esmerelda did not deserve to be so treated.
But this realization hardly meant that he was finished with her. The minister was a master cardplayer, one who knew that the cards did not always fall in predictable patterns and that he must be capable of adapting his strategy to fit the situation. The maneuver he now had in mind was a novel idea, something he had never attempted before. Every inch of her boasted some new, exotic commodity; unexplored territory Claude wished to seize for himself. His body grew stiff, pleading release from this venereal limbo. Sancta Maria Mater Dei! The girl was so clearly offering herself to him—dancing before him, returning his kiss, and now sitting in his lap!—it was too much to bear. Surely, no deity could possibly expect a reasonable man to decline her gratuitous invitation. How drastically the righteous had fallen. No longer a politician, or sovereign authority clutched by faith. He was human, weak and susceptible to sin. As such, he tossed himself into natural inclinations, unhinged from his usual sensibility. In that moment, all he wished to know was her.
His lips trailed down her neck, nibbling her silken skin. It was meant as a taunt, but backfired upon him. He ached from his own actions. His tongue traced back up, reclaiming her lips. The kiss was long, and laced with poison.
He gracefully overtook her, pressing her back until she was overshadowed his imposing figure, trapped between him and the floor. She quivered as his hand slipped up her thigh, pushing her dress to a less than immodest length. He'd wanted the damn thing off ages ago, but held his composure. Simply ripping it off felt inappropriate for such a rare gem. Instead, he handled her like fine glass: delicately, tenderly, and with the utmost care. She deserved more than some wild beast charging into her.
Still, the burning temptation gnawed at his mind, every passing moment only fueling his desire for supremacy. He yearned for the tingle of skin beneath his palms, and the scratching sound of his nails gliding down her back.
Fifty years of self-discipline were barely enough to keep him from throwing himself upon her at once, but ultimately his usual sensibility triumphed over his raging instinct. No cat ever caught a mouse by sneaking up hurriedly and carelessly, and scaring it away. His lips lifted from hers to move right beside her ear. "Esmeralda…" he whispered, tasting her name. Softly, he molded his lips over her earlobe, his tongue gently playing with her gaudy earring. In response, she murmured and snuggled up closer. Perfect.
He opened his mouth to speak, remaining sufficiently close that his lips brushed over her earlobe as they moved.
"…undress."
Esmeralda: It wasn't her first French kiss—she'd learned long ago that it was a useful trick for distracting men while Clopin relieved them of their belongings—but her head swam like a cork bobbing in a raging river. Eyes drifting closed, her head sunk back into the crook of his elbow when his lips finally released hers. Such soft, luxurious fabric, her hands slipped from his face to stroke his robes. The warmth he was generating was blinding her judgment, it made her remain in his arms. Her back arched when his lips moved from her own and down her neck—she quickly bit her lip when she heard herself moaning aloud. Flustered, she mentally scolded herself and attempted to regain control. No, he's a horrible man, and besides I know what I'm doing, I've done this a million times, men are gross and my job is to manipulate them instead of giving them what they want…
She was eased back further till she was lying on the floor, Frollo moved on top of her. She felt her breath catch when looking up at him, her heart beating fast again. His fingers pulled on her dress in an attempt to reveal more to him. His touch was cold yet hot at the same time. Like a searing touch. Her body was reacting to this against what her consciousness was telling her. She could even feel she actually was getting wet. A whimper came from her, this should not be, please stop, stop now! Still, she lay in his embrace, his kisses and touch surrounding her and comforting her.
She half smiled when he whispered her name, it too sent an odd sensation through her body. The word that followed gripped her muscles like a rigid vice.
"Undress."
Emerald eyes stung a little at that with hot tears. If this was going to happen, she wanted to be bed properly, but she was too afraid to ask for that. He'd probably think she would try and escape the moment he unlocked the door. Would she? Run back to the sanctuary of the Court of Miracles, hole away underground to her cold, empty bed? She bit her lip hard at that, fresh tears fell freely down her cheek. As gentle as he was right now, he still wanted her. Right here, on the floor. Beds are for ladies; the floor is suitable for whores. That should make her angry, make her push him off. Instead she could feel herself growing tired of fighting. For so long she fought off men's advances, why should Frollo be any different? No man has ever been this determined to have her. It actually consumed him to have her. Men who showed an interest would easily get distracted by someone else when she tossed aside their advances. Not Frollo. He would never rest till he had her.
She looked up at him. Warm, grey eyes returned her troubled green gaze. Far more bothersome to her than the idea of laying with him was the fear of what could happen next. After he got what he wanted, would he dispose of her in attempt to cover his scandalous behavior? And if not, what on earth might her people possibly do to her when they found out? Squeezing her eyes closed, she pushed against him to sit up a little, playing with the laces at the front of her corset. Her fingers were so clumsy, working at the laces. Never once during this did she look up, but knew his eyes were on her. Her fast-beating heart was making her ill to her stomach again. The laces fell away, the red corset hung open and her large breasts were now exposed for him. She grit her teeth to continue, her eyes stayed closed while she tugged it down, off her shoulders. The red fabric slipped down around her waist, she was nude from the top for him. Her tears would not stop flowing soundlessly during all this.
F: The minister was sufficiently interested in watching the dancer strip herself that he probably could have ignored a firecracker exploding behind his head. Still, it bothered him that she cried. She had no reason to trust him; the poor dear had seen such an awful side only a short time ago. He needed to calm her; even now she might panic and make some foolish attempt at heroism. "Don't be afraid," he spoke softly, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I would never harm anyone who respected my authority—and it is my job to instruct you, is it not?"
"How can you be so gentle and yet so damn pressuring?" Her words were irritated, confused, overwhelmed.
"Shh." He attempted to cradle her close; she stiffened. He continued to speak. "You protested that I would never give your people a chance; will you likewise refuse to give me a chance to prove that I could be your salvation instead of your damnation?" The minister dropped his voice to a lower, quieter, warmer tone; raising Quasimodo had given him many opportunities to practice the art of calming overexcited young people. "You asked me if I was a man of God, or a wild animal without feelings. It was clear that you had already decided on the latter, but I am gracious, I can show you otherwise." Gently, he smoothed back her hair. "And truthfully, I am sickened by the unfortunate circumstance, that I ought to hand you over to the cruelty of the immigration laws. Those hideous, unfair rules that I have been tasked with enforcing." His fingers stroked her hairline, tucking a stray tendril behind her ear. "You poor dear, you have so many disgusting dogs trying to throw you around like a dirty rag. You deserve a gentleman to pay attention to you, not some piece of trash."
To his great satisfaction, the girl had gone limp in his arms, her eyes drifted shut. Gently, he pressed his lips to one closed eyelid, then the other, before scooping her up in his arms. Weaving through the maze of overturned furnishings, he carried her to the one place in that chapel unscathed by their heated battle: the altar on the opposite end of the room. He blew out a few lit candles resting on the place of communion. The silent smoke danced around them, as he perched her atop that sacred stone monument. She sat a little below eye level, which he preferred. She was still beneath him, and vulnerable to his whims. Frollo cupped her chin and pulled her in for a kiss, the salt from her tears laced her lips. He continued down, nipping at the gypsy's neck, becoming more aggressive with every bite. It felt like hours before his hands took notice of her skin. They shook as he rolled them over her waist, jittery with nervous excitement. One finally rested on her breast, and then the other, slowly, carefully, kneading at her. Lips, tongue, and teeth soon followed their lead. Her noises and whispers urged him on.
Though pert and enticing, it was not her chest he wished to dine on. The damn girl had only done her job halfway, but there was no need to scold. He simply chose to correct her mistake; he could discipline her later.
His hands tugged at her half-strung dress, firm and with purpose. One by one her silks pooled to the floor, leaving nothing of her left to Frollo's imagination.
An imagination that had been completely incapable of formulating such a wondrous picture.
"You're absolutely beautiful," he whispered, half-frozen between wholehearted awe and burning instinct that begged him to jump on the altar immediately. He locked his eyes on hers, analyzing Esmeralda's reactions as his fingers slipped down her figure. A twinge in one area, a moan sounded from another. He recorded each response in his mind, mapping out every inch of her body with her series of jolts and whimpers. He'd finally reached her thighs after what felt an eternity, feminine warmth radiating off them. Her scent was different too, matured and saccharine.
Frollo took it upon himself to spread her at the knee. She wouldn't do so on command, he knew as much. She momentarily struggled, he assumed out of embarrassment, but there was no need for her formalities any longer.
He finally coaxed her legs apart with the slightest bit of force and fondling. To his pleasant surprise, she was already saturated, aroused by his assault; he felt a sense of pride in that. His idea was a curious thing, something he'd only heard rumor of from his more 'vocal' guards and their escapades with the city harlots. The outcome was always the same in their stories, and Frollo wished to test the theory for himself. A smile cracked across his face, and he imagined the gypsy's reactions.
His fingers traced her thighs, simple taunt, one meant to distract her from his actual agenda. Inquisitively, he dipped his tongue inside her, claiming her lower lips. Such a sweet flavor, from such a tart girl, he delved in again. Her tender voice rang in his ears as he continued, each flick bolder than the last. She bucked towards him, her enthusiasm seeping out in her words. Pressure built in the minister's groin, pleading for liberation, as he relished his first taste of the gypsy girl.
Esmeralda: The gypsy girl sat bare-breasted to him, the dress was around her waist, her head bent down low. There was no sound, but she knew he was staring at every inch of her exposed skin. Then, he began to speak, his droning baritone weaving through her brain like chloroform, dulling her senses. His movements were so gentle now, that of a different man verses the one who tore apart this room not that long ago. She was brought closer against him, her head came to rest on his shoulder. She felt his arms move around her. Her tears slowed a little, her body shook and shivered. The feelings of foolishness, fear and anger that had flooded her in hot waves were swamped by the more powerful rolling tide of his deep voice. She felt his hands on her back and through her hair. Again, so gentle—such a welcome contrast to those "disgusting dogs" as he had called them. Did they really think they were winning her affection by trying to grab her backside when they thought Clopin wasn't looking?
Through coaxing, soft and gentle touches on her, Esmeralda did eventually relax in his arms. She felt her feet leave the floor as she was lifted and nestled closer against him in his arms. She burrowed her face into his robes, turning her body more into him so her chest was pressed against him. He smelled of woodsmoke and lavender, a welcome departure from the stench of unwashed skin and cheap alcohol that clung to the patrons at the Boar's Head. For a fleeting moment she thought he was actually going to carry her out, out of this room and into his own bed. Once again, such a foolish thought on her part. She was carried further through the room, away from the door, until she felt herself placed down on the altar table. The irony of his choice of horizontal surface was not lost on her—she was to be the sacrificial lamb, the meat for the beast. As gently as Frollo was behaving, he was still a monster. His eyes sought her hesitant ones out, lowering himself to kiss her tenderly. She found herself fully responding back with such fierce eagerness that even she could not comprehend.
He climbed on the table, velvet robes tickling her bare skin. The cold marble at her back provided a sharp contrast to the warmth that radiated from his body, causing her to feel him even more. Pale fingers slipped down her neck; he smiled when his maddening touch drew a moan and a twitch from her. Soft, silvery hair tickled her chin when his hands were followed by those thin lips, then—oh! Gripped with an involuntary spasm when teeth bit into her neck, she howled out, throwing her arms to the sides and then around this starving incubus begging to dine on her.
"So delicious," he purred.
Mercilessly he pressed onward, sucking intensely at the tender place on her neck. The dancer whimpered, holding to him more tightly. He murmured against her skin in reply, tongue flicking against the place where her neck met her shoulders, hands investigating the nakedness beneath him. A gentle kiss was pressed to the hollow of her throat before his lips dipped lower to claim her breasts. Esmeralda felt herself buck against him, moaning out her unfiltered satisfaction.
"You were saying something?" His head lifted so that he could speak clearly, his deep voice echoing in the stone enclosure, reverberating in the air though his lips no longer moved.
"Don't stop," Esmeralda whimpered meekly.
"I don't intend to." The last words were murmured against her skin as his head dipped back down, breath fluttering over her sweat-slicked chest. He continued down her body, anointing her bare midriff with his soft kisses. Eyes rolling back in her head, vision drifting out of focus, Esmeralda relinquished control and hungrily absorbed his affection. That tiny voice of her conscience beat against her brain and reverberated through her skull, warning her that she was making a terrible mistake, but she stubbornly tuned it out. To hell with whatever Clopin would think if he found out; it served him damn right for complaining about Phoebus and trying to boss his sister around.
It was then that Frollo stood back on the floor. Lifting herself up a little when his fingers touched her hips, Frollo shimmied off the dress completely from her body. She now lay fully nude on the altar table. She wondered what he was plotting, as he had yet to undress. What was he waiting for? It was maddening to toy with her like this! A teasing sweep of his finger between her thighs and the answer to her frenzied thoughts was dangerously revealed. Her legs shakily parted for him, feeling the sticky wetness, as she watched his head lower. Eyes widening almost to the point of pain, she bit her lip to keep herself from gasping. He isn't actually going to—he wouldn't-
Oh. OHHHHHHHHHHH. Oh God.
Trying to hold back how his wet, slippery tongue made her feel was not working. She shuddered, bucked, and writhed, her moans and whimpers echoing in the stone enclosure. Any autonomy she had possessed over her reactions had been taken from her entirely, but could she really be angry with him when her senses were enjoying the attention? Searing, icy-hot hands gripped her waist to restrain her movements when her writhing reached such a fever pitch to make it physically difficult for him to keep licking her. "Claudeeeeeeeee!" she howled out, crashing through the glass ceiling of her breaking point, unable to bear the overpowering heat for a moment more. He stood back up to face her, smug grey eyes catching her overwhelmed green ones. Never in her wildest dreams had Esmerelda imagined that she would allow that incorrigible old man to get this far with her, but the soft smirk on his face told her more clearly than spoken words that he was just getting started.
Frollo: Her gentle shivers raced against his tongue, nectar flowing from her. Much like a tender cadence,
his name escaped her lips. Her voice echoed in his ears, such a sweet song. He craved to hear the melody again.
While she still drifted in a blissful euphoria, Frollo slipped a finger inside the girl, fully aware he was driving her towards the brink of insanity. She shuddered, and twisted her hips, her motions mesmerizing. Enchanted by her ardent gestures, he let a second slide in, pressing his palm against her warmth, pushing in as deep as allowed.
Frollo leaned over, his free hand coddling her breast, lips and tongue eagerly exploring the rest of his dancer. His whole body grinding against hers, fingers gliding in and out. All the while he groaned and growled, working his way towards his own limitations. She responded to him, performing an aria, her rocking hips synched with his hand.
She squealed out again in a delightful drawl, leaning back on the altar, shivering. He hovered above her, simply enjoying her small trills. He trusted her not to move for a spell, and finally paid heed to his own aching.
Frollo's groin was searing, throbbing, a simple touch away from release. His breathing felt erratic. His blood boiled, muscles tensing. He craved a release, he craved her.
He clumsily stripped his own clothing, robes cast aside, no longer of any use in this unholy chamber. He tore into his shirt, practically ripping through the cursed fabric. All the while he glared at his prize.
Before he could strip his trousers, he pounced atop the girl. Chest against chest, skin against skin, heartbeats fading into a single pulse. He pressed his face into her hair, all he ever wished for was pinned
beneath him. He savored her scent, her touch and taste, gripping his nails at her skin, fully consumed by rabid passion. Her pulse shocked through his lips as he kissed her neck, her legs willingly parted, nearly wrapped around his waist.
The feeling was titillating, a violent calm before a deadlier storm. He could hardly handle his own torture, but the anguish itself was enough to keep him stunned, paused in that burning moment. She mewled in his ear, pushing tight against him, imploring him to continue. Only one motion, a sleight of hand, and she'd completely belong to him.
He took a hand to clasp her neck. The hold lacked any cruelty, but his eyes did not. He stood above his
pet, fearsome and feral, prepared to strike at a moment's notice. He rubbed his body against hers, a simple taunt. He held in his own exasperated pleasures, though not very well, as a final command breached his lips.
"Beg for me."
Esmeralda: Esmeralda lay shivering upon the table, definitely not from the slight chill in the room. Between her thighs there was still a faint quivering she could not fully calm, her legs and knees were so numb. Breathing out and looking up at the ceiling, she tried to bring herself back to some kind of composure. This down time would last but mere seconds when his finger was felt sliding inside her heated, slick entrance. Emerald eyes widened once more. His tongue was one thing, but now…. OH!
Her body reacted once more, she arched and writhed, riding his wicked index. A second finger slid inside, it made her whimper. A trail of clear secretion dribbled down from her opening, down the crack of her behind. It tickled as it did, it was also hot. Never in any nightmare could she imagine someone like Frollo would be able to make her this saturated. She was completely at his dark mercy, unable to resist, her body fully responded to his touch. Through her haze she caught flickering images of the judge above her, a mixture of black, white and gray, in the middle was a leering smirk, closing in on her, nipping and kissing at her neck in between the soft, droning words that the dripped from his lips like honey. She moaned and mewed out, bucking against his fingers. His wicked touch succeeded in releasing yet another orgasm from her, her body convulsed, her legs sprawling to the side. Esmeralda panted out, her hands reaching up to rest on her heaving chest. God help this outcast, this was how he would kill her!
A rustling sound had her perk up through her half-closed eyes, a whisper of velvet brushed past her curled toes, tickling her softly. Pushing up a little on her elbows to fully look, Frollo in front of her was
undressing. He became frustrated when his clothes did not unveil quickly enough for him. A lowly growl from him sent a shudder through her like a hot wave. She stared up at him, her breathing still shaky. That was what was hidden underneath his clothing? How was that even possible! His body was actually well formed, it held tight muscle definition. Not unflattering at all, was her mind playing tricks on her, or was she so lost in this haze he had dragged her down in? To her greater astonishment, she saw the dagger buckled to his belt, saw him unbuckle it and toss it in the floor with the rest of his clothing. Everything gone but his trousers, he jumped up on her. Esmeralda gasped out when his body settled itself on her, his chest pressed against hers. Damn him though, he still had a fabric wall between them! Her hips rocked along with his in this mocking movement. She found herself unable to stop, wanting to tug at his yielding fabric. He had left her so achy and numb, it was cruel to be on top of her like this, barring her.
At the height of her squirming and reaching out, she felt a cold sensation hit her chest when he sat up and away from her again. She already wanted him back, wanted the warmth he was generating. This was maddening what he was doing to her. If he didn't kill her after this, her people probably would cast her out from the clan. Seduced by their most hated enemy? That would be a huge mark against her, severe disappointment. But no longer could she fight him, she welcomed his touch with fevered, outstretched hands.
His words suffused her with an ethereal electricity: "Beg for me."
Beg? Even while laying naked on the alter, completely at the judge's mercy, she would not beg. "You're gonna do it anyway, damn you, whether I beg or not. You are the one who should be begging for my permission."
"Your insolence is strangely charming." His head tilted slightly, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His tone, his gaze, held such…affection? Esmerelda's brain swam in tumultuous confusion. What was wrong with her, she was supposed to hate this man! Why was he warming her so? The effect he had on her was maddening—and to think he accused her of witchcraft and deviously manipulating the emotions of another human being.
The girl tried to force her mind to clear. She was making a terrible mistake, allowing him to play her like this. Where was the gallant heroism that sparked her genius performance at the festival? Think, girl, think! Claude Frollo had brought a knife with him, only to throw it in the floor. She would have the element of surprise; she could jump off the altar, grab the knife, force him to get away from her. No, she should stab him on the spot!—but then what? She'd assuredly be caught—so she would stab herself as well, and die a hero's death, the sinless maiden who had given her own life to save her people from this wretched monster!
"You do realize…I need not be your enemy." Hand stroking her neck, he moved his lips closer to her ear. "The choice is yours, my love." The vibration of his vocal cords jumped the hair's breadth of air between his lips and her ear, relentlessly trembling throughout her whole body.
Esmerelda was teetering on the edge of the dark, swirling abyss. For years, she'd fought off the advances of white-trash men who only saw her as a toy to be played with. She'd impressed her overprotective brother Clopin with her determined self-restraint, to the point that he soon no longer objected to her sensual dancing.
Now, she was laying naked on the altar with the wealthiest and most powerful man in Paris looming over her, his shadow engulfing her as silently and surely as a pall over a coffin. And by a bizarre, cruel twist of fate, this same man was her brother's most hated enemy. It would not matter to Clopin that the coldest heart in Paris had warmed to her and her alone, that Jupiter himself had sent her some pearls, that the judge was NOT some white-trash skirt-chaser who'd head for the nearest prostitute once he realized that Esmerelda would not cater to his whims. She would be branded a traitor of the highest notoriety and forever bear the shame.
The minister, her people's hated enemy, wanted her and her alone. Even though she had slapped him across the face, a crime that she could have justly served time for. Even though his reputation would never recover should word get out that this straight-laced monument to virtue had spent the night with a foreign-born girl who danced on a pole. Even though he knew that she was the younger sister of the gypsy king and her people's beloved princess, and that "tarnishing" her might well be enough to incite the entire gypsy population to storm the Palace and kill him.
She had to hand it to him; that was an incredible level of determination. A level that would allow her to feel little shame in ultimately surrendering to him.
With a stubborn determination that she needed to act now lest she change her mind, she ripped off the last of his clothing, leaving him standing in the pale moonlight like a marble statue. "You win," Esmeralda said simply. "Take me."
Frollo: Esmeralda, the notorious gypsy who once stood as a beacon of hope to her people, now lay still and submissive beneath the dark judge, fully consenting to her enemy's touch. Her blazing ardor had dwindled to embers, consumed by a much stronger fire.
"Good girl," he whispered with the fierceness of a raging storm.
Such a pitiful sight, but enchanting all the same, this newly tainted female. She believed herself to be a virtuous martyr, one who could lead her people to shining age of grandeur and glory, yet was now confined to same perpetual struggle the minister was bound to. No longer could she deny his advances, no longer could she fight for her purity. She was lost on a shaded path, sealed by mortal corruption, and Frollo would be her guide.
His cold hands rubbed down her sides, resting firmly on her hips. He latched his nails into the girl's skin, restricting her movement, and smothering her last shred of freedom with his constricting grasp. She beseeched him in a series of whimpering yowls, her hips nearly thrashing against loins. With a guiltless heart, he responded to her wishes, slowly, carefully, slipping inside his dancer.
The sensation was electrifying and hypnotic. It'd been an eternity since he'd found himself in such bliss. She was searing, dripping, and trembling with enthusiasm. Frollo quaked alongside her, unsteady, and lost in rapture.
Her small voice echoed in the empty room, pleading for him, all of him, and the judge was eager to satisfy her cries. He watched her pensively, her eyes shut tight. If her claims of innocence were true, then his next few motions would only pain her. He could easily turn hostile, secure his prize in one fell swoop, yet something held him from such a brutish deed. Whether it was her tender whines, or his drained emotional state, he did not know, but instead he chose to take her in good faith, jointly descending into iniquity.
He pulled her up to face him, sitting her on the edge of the altar. Esmeralda's arms instinctively coiled around his neck. Frollo sighed, and kissed her forehead. There was no real meaning behind it, he only assumed it would be of some comfort, that it would somehow keep her steady. He pressed her close, sliding further within her. One decisive thrust, a gentle yelp from her lips, and she belonged to him.
Frollo quaked from the sting of ecstasy, trembling in elation, as a warming wave washed over him. His teeth grazed her shoulder, biting hard into her sullied flesh, as he drove into her again and again. Picking a rhythm, he fervidly rocked his hips, baying under the primitive moonlight. Their medley rang through the chapel, a lucid chorus of sinful desire. Nothing so forbidden could boast such divine pleasures.
His pace quickened to match his heartbeat, rapid and frantic, all his contemplations of her being fully explored in his motions. Her nails raked over his spine, gingerly teasing his pale skin. His breath was erratic, almost gasping, as a cold chill raced over him. Her trills unhinged the arcane minister, her song almost soothing, a sacred melody. His words slurred out in a beaten harmony, unable to contain his own zealous cravings.
"Esmeralda," he cried, "Oh, Esmeralda." She was all that he imagined, and all that he desired.
Esmeralda: Her voice trailed off, the invitation was received and now granted-there was no going back now. The gleam in the eyes of the judge as he looked down on her sent another shiver down her spine. His soft, seductive voice continued to swim through her thoughts, overwhelming any rational reasoning that instructed her to fight back. Fleeting thoughts surfaced briefly, only to be swept away again, from that dark river of his voice that flowed through her brain, in those precious seconds before the all-consuming plunge. Thoughts of her people, Clopin and the welfare of the city in general. It was as though their backs were slowly turning on her, fading away into wispy mists. In a different situation this would sadden her, but her body would not allow her to stop until fully released. She would follow Frollo's eager hand down this path. A path of either destruction or salvation; only when the final curtain came crashing down upon this dangerous game would the answer be revealed.
Half expecting to be taken almost instantly, Esmeralda's eyes squeezed tightly shut while laying on her back. She felt hands grasp her shoulders, not roughly but firmly, pulling her into a sitting position. One eye slowly opened first to see Frollo in front of her. Her mouth fell open a little in a silent gasp, surprised he would sit her up to be closer to his face. She found herself reaching up to link her arms around his neck. Heat radiated from his lips when he tenderly kissed her forehead. It caused a dizzy sensation of euphoria, she slid her face forward to thump lightly against his chest. Her arms held tightly to him, she was dipped back just a little as his body pressed further into her.
It was here her eyes widened at the moment of entrance. Despite how wet from arousal she was, it could not fully buffer the stab of pain that engulfed her lower region. A cry fell from her lips, she pressed her face closer to rest against his bare shoulder. A faint metallic scent rose up between them, she could feel the wetness dribble down, knowing full well it was a little bit of blood. It was done then, Judge Claude Frollo had claimed her virginity as his, owning her in that single moment. She felt him quiver inside her, heard him moan out. They both clung to each other in those first few wobbly steps. Their bodies slowly unfurled from their rigid slumber, each thrust igniting a powerful warmth that spread throughout the both of them. Esmeralda could feel herself stretch further to welcome him completely. Her long legs curled around him, urging him to thrust deeper.
Her back connected with the table once again, she looked up to see Frollo grinding into her. Her cries and moans intermingled with his. Her hips bucked in a rhythm she quickly caught on with him. It was maddening how a natural instinct had consumed the both of them, one that any living creature since the dawning of time discovers and follows wholeheartedly. In between thrusts, her nails would race down his back. It caused more moans and growls from him. Esmeralda impishly smiled, she never thought she would lift her ruby lips into a pleased expression ever again. A man like Frollo brought that out of her, the universe was a strange thing. How it shifted and pitted individuals such as herself in a very confusing and surreal situation. He could still very well destroy her after all was said and done, but at this point it no longer mattered.
Feeling the need to experiment this new situation, she tightened herself around him. It not only made him growl louder, it sent the sweetest tingling feeling through her. It felt like a blazing fire. Esmeralda whimpered out a cry, her legs shuddering at the spasm it caused. Hearing him moan out her name, his voice heavily laced in euphoria, she knew he was caught in this web just as deeply as she was.
Frollo: Frollo delved inside the girl with perfervid grandeur, unwilling to bow beneath the weight of immoral pleasure. Each solid thrust catering to louder moans. In response, the dark beauty beseeched her captor, bound by blood and insensible cravings, lost in heat and passion. The judge begged his body to hold until his appetite was sated, wishing to bask in the grand elegance of his maiden for a few moments longer. Yet, like all amorous splendors, this twisted evening of abysmal elation would soon fade to memory.
She was the first to fall, frantically howling as she succumbed, falling prey to the incubus feasting upon her. One final plunge, a subsequent falter, and Frollo's body betrayed him, engulfed by ethereal bliss.
The minister was floating on clouds, adrift on a sea of otherworldly euphoria. Barely aware of his actions, he gently stroked her ebony hair, her soft mewling reaching his ears as if from some great distance. Eyes closed, he bathed her radiant warmth as she twitched beneath him.
Entwined by fate and ferried by misconception, these fragile lovers lie weary and worn in a house of divine splendor. Truth explored through sin; a transgression sealed by the offering of a chaste, demure maiden. The minister slumped atop the gypsy, clutching her delicate skin, and attempting to regain some form of composure. His breaths were hardy and full, the pace haughty and staggered. Frollo was known to overexert himself while preforming civil duties, but for once this exhaustion was welcomed. Through a taxing triumph, he won his right to gypsy girl, yet was now unsure if his conquest was worth the imminent struggle peering over the horizon.
As with those twenty winters past, Frollo spat on holy grounds. Adultery now added to his accused murder; there was a special place in Hell waiting for him. He dipped into the dark pools of lust, and was suddenly brought to a crossroad of what to do with his guest. He couldn't allow her to leave, the entire city would be in an uproar by dawn. "Heresy," the crowd would shriek, weapons in hand. Those peasants were always up for some sort of execution, and, unfortunately, Frollo was not exempt from such a fate. However, Esmeralda was who he was most concerned with. A single oversight would mean the end of his reign, but she was too precious a gem to simply sacrifice to the fire. One teetering thought constricted his mind. It was a simple solution, but a precarious one.
Cold hand bracing her cheek, Frollo sighed, initially hesitant of his decision. She trembled beneath him, half-dazed and unsure of his touch. Their lips met for a brief moment, rekindling his carnal nature, and
snuffing out his apprehension. Too long had his earthly pleasures been denied in this foul mortal coil. He was honorable, noble, but was never offered the faintest reward for his services. His guards, his palace,
his position all carved out by him alone, only to be given no true comforts for his grueling efforts. An accolade was well earned; he chose the beautiful Esmeralda as his prize. The judge was already assured his way into eternal paradise, for he was, by any of his definitions, a righteous man. What harm would come if he claimed his heavenly earnings a few years in advance?
Gathering his robes, Frollo hastily dressed, as if within some brief instant the firm clutch of faith would drag him away from this blurred path. Once clothed, he turned back to the girl, eyes burning, a half-sincere smile gracing his face. He gripped her fragile figure, bringing her into his arms, all the while panting, snickering, ecstatic to grasp her with such complete control. He held her close to his chest,
weaving through the dismantled room, nearly ripping though the barred doors and stumbled into the hallway. As predicted, there shouldn't be any interior guards at this hour, not that it mattered. No one under his influence would dare question the minister's motives, unless they placed no value on their life.
Tearing through the darkness, at a near inhuman pace, Frollo pressed onward though the labyrinth of hallways and corridors. His quarry, captured, tamed and exhausted, fell limp as he swept her into the night.
Esmeralda: At the sound of the judge's throaty growl and a final thrust, Esmeralda sprawled back on to
the table. Its cool surface felt blissful on her heated, sweaty back. Frollo soon followed, collapsing on top of her. She panted and breathed out, still finding this experience surreal. Maybe she was really still in her own bed, down in the Court of Miracles, sleeping peacefully with her little goat Djali curled up beside her. Looking up through heavy eyelids was the pale sweaty face of the minister.
No. This was bizarrely real.
Their eyes met fully after their tumultuous union. Even though his eyes were staring straight at her, she could see many thoughts were no doubt tumbling around inside. Regardless of how gentle and romantic and passionate Frollo had been a few minutes ago, he still had a reputation to defend. He had promised not to hurt her if she cooperated with him, but Esmerelda could too easily see him deciding to dispose of her anyway and justifying his actions with some garbage like "I realized that Esmerelda made it too difficult to maintain my integrity and in order to enable myself to perform my job as well as I should, I had to get rid of her." She may be exhausted, numb, shaky and strangely satisfied, she would force herself to defend herself by any means possible.
When his hand slid along her cheek so tenderly, tilting her chin for her lips to close over his, her eyes widened. She muffled and whimpered a little, debating if she wanted to question him or just slide back
further down into these confusing emotions he was causing in her. The kiss broke temporarily as Frollo stepped back to hastily gather up his clothing. Wha…what was he doing? She decided to do the same, cover up. Shaky hands scrounged around to find where her dress fell off to, right along with her dignity and gypsy pride. Her legs felt wobbly and sore as they touched the cold stone floor to pick up her dress. Sitting back on the edge of the table, she pulled on the red dress. Just barely pulling it up and over her heaving bosom, not even getting the straps secured completely, Frollo's hands were on her again. Esmeralda yelped out, surprised by this. What was he doing? Another go? Heavens, what had she awakened in him! There was a strange expression, something new, a side he never revealed. It was so very faint, but it was a soft, genuine smile. His eyes, on the other hand, still had fire burning in them. She started struggling a little, protest, but it did nothing. Her limp, sore body was lifted into his arms, her head resting against the softness of his now robed self.
Swiftly, she was carried through the overturned room, the remains of their battle, her emerald eyes darted about frantically from up at his face, to the surroundings. Through the door he carried her and out into the dark, vastness that was the Palace of Justice. What was he doing? Where was he taking her! "Frollo, what are you doing?" She was held tightly close against him. It could be felt just from how he held her he was taking such great care. But why?
Her mind raced. She could just struggle and kick to free herself and flee into the night. That is, if she could find an exit from here. Such struggling would arouse the entire building, bringing every soldier on her. It would bring out Frollo's rage again, but this time even worse than before. Death would assuredly happen if she did that. She instead lay still in his arms while visions of their union teased her mind. She bit her lip, shook her head and pressed her face against his chest.
She was carried up the stairs, darkness still all around safe for flickering torches along the walls. Her heart began to race just as quickly as the steps Frollo took, realizing where he was taking her. Carried on through into a large room at the end of the hall, she heard her own voice gasp out. His bedroom….she was brought to Frollo's bedroom! Oh, no, he was going to lock her away like some caged bird in his own room. Her body was still sore and numb, exhaustion also had a hold on her too, but still she shuddered at this realization of her fate. Frightened emerald eyes looked up at her captor. It was as if once tasting forbidden fruit he was reduced to a desperate soul that now would spirit her away, keep her under his penetrating, watchful eye, never to fly free again.
Frollo: Her question fell silent, blocked by deaf ears. Frollo was all to consumed with the task at hand,
snaring his sweet gypsy deeper within the palace. The nip of excitement pulsed through him, followed by the sting of concern. This curious denouement fell far his initial plot. He'd shown weakness, even a touch of warmth toward her. That notion made him ill, though she'd also displayed far more than simple offhanded interest.
She was close to him now, braced against his chest, yet the minister was not eased by her consent. Esmeralda had done nothing to earn his trust, and there was no promise she'd remain so compliant. For all he knew, his little bird was plotting to hook her talons deep within her keeper, forever stifling the memory of this unholy night. Such a precarious situation he'd stumbled in. He'd need to quiet her, to ensure this witch's fiery nature dwindled to embers, but his usual methods were too distasteful for such paramount company. Besides, Esmeralda would nearly bite off her tongue before she'd submit to the judge's whims, and forcing himself upon the girl would only push her further away. This perilous path was indeed laced with a plethora of quandaries, and a single blunder would shatter his gambit.
Frollo's mind halted as he reached the entry to his chambers. Without pause he pushed the door open and strode into the lavish quarters. Stacks of parchment acted as décor, ink and quill readily beside them. Elegant tapestries worth more than their weight in gold were draped over the stone walls, and, a less than surprising feature, a small fireplace flickering in the night. It was truly a reflection of Frollo's
own enigmatic soul. Even his bed was opulent, lined with fine textiles known only to adorn royal chambers.
Before he dared to handle the gypsy's ardent spirit, he needed to clip her wings. Even now, he feared she'd attempt some daring escape. Haphazardly, Frollo dropped her on his bed, and dashed back to the door. A swift flick of the wrist, and the was room locked, sullying any devious plots. He then turned around, curiously cocking his head, a baleful grin carved in his face. The minister was drunk off his own
arrogance, driven half mad by a potent overlay of indecorous intentions. Yet, the melodious whispers of night hummed like a siren's song, draining the man of his vigor. Even the mighty predator must rest after a hunt.
He strode towards her, head held high, disrobing once again. Esmeralda sat unnerved and unsure, a fair enough response. Frollo was being rather cryptic; he hadn't spoken a word since he whisked her away from chapel. Lucky for her, his animalistic ambitions had quieted. He desired a respite as much as she, but not without boasting a last-ditch effort to assert his claim.
He loomed above the girl, coaxing her back with a steely glare. His cold hands pawed at her hips, clutching the thin fabric beneath them as he stole a final kiss. Tugging down her dress, his fingers rhythmically traced her curves. Frollo sensed the girl was weary, paralyzed by exhaustion, as she hardly protested the silken fabric slipping off her. He desperately craved her warmth, her tender, tired skin gliding against his own, and he refused to heed her modesty.
Still, mortality weighed heavy upon him, no longer could he press onward as a feral beast. With a disgruntled sigh he fell to his side, pulling his quarry into his chest. His fingers tangled in her ebony hair as he held her, firmly grasping the gypsy within his constrictive embrace. She felt still, settled, clutching this opportunity for rest. Caressing his maiden, Frollo let his own tension go, finally drifting off the sleep.
Esmeralda: Her own voice betrayed her exhaustion once she was placed down onto his bed. She could not remember feeling such softness, silky comfort ever in her life! The little cot in her wagon that she covered with whatever fabrics and blankets she had found failed to compare to this extreme
comfort. Her body was begging her to relax, sore muscles aching all over, yet still her heart squeezed as the lock was fastened in place. Esmeralda watched how calm he was as he moved about the room. His silence was unnerving her so deeply.
She herself found she could not speak either, inside though she was screaming. Her own emotions and yearnings had already betrayed her down in the chapel. Screaming out now to be released would sound incredibly stupid at this point. He had fooled her good when he stared at her before she allowed him to take her. That broken soul he showed her beneath his monster lines. Frollo had her exactly where he wanted her, it explained that grin of his as he moved about like he was floating on clouds. And yet, she hated to admit it nor would he ever either, he did seem genuinely different. Gloating definitely now, but there was something different about him. There was assuredly still a danger she was in. The judge may not actually be interested in killing her anymore, he wanted to keep her instead with a fierce, unbridled passion. Frollo was dangerous before with his killings without any mercy since he had nothing truly to live for. Now that he had staked claim over her body he would be incorrigible.
Her breath hitched when he came back over to her. The look in his eyes was so primal; she would have been terrified were she not so exhausted. Inside she was still fuming at this mistake she made. She wanted to swipe at that grin of his! He seized her in a heavy kiss that had her yelp out but surrender anyway. Eased on to her back, her dress was pulled down again, his fingers were all over on her. Struggling a little did nothing, she knew he would paw at her any time he wanted, in his mind she belonged to him. Her emerald eyes stared back at him in a mixture of emotions, disgust being one of them. Disgust more in herself. Her body still longed so deeply for rest, and this comfort he was providing was making it so difficult to protest. Pulled into his embrace, her body was nestled in so closely to his. It was an odd sensation that this man she only knew to be driven solely by evil was now cuddling her with such tenderness. Hands that kill so easily were now gently on her. It was like being caressed by a serpent, that fear in the back of her mind that if he really wanted to he could just snap her neck. Maybe if she could get his guard lowered she could wiggle out and…and what? Kill him? Even if she were successful she still was locked inside; his men would eventually come in and kill her. The window? Climb out the window? How high up were they? Her people would discover she's missing at some point, but would they even think to look here? No one wants to come near this evil place! Her body sagged, these thoughts only stressed her more.
Exhaustion won out over her anxious thoughts. She laid limply in his arms as the heavy pall of sleep descended upon her.
Frollo: Dawn gathered on the horizon, unmasking all sins concealed by evening's shadows. The midnight veil stripped away by the rays of morning, yielding to a menagerie of colors cutting through the charred darkness. Daybreak crafted painterly image, but its depiction was smeared upon a sullied canvas.
Frollo was the first to stir, being a man regularly awake before dawn. The dull, droning, dissonance of Notre Dame's bells rang through the city, and were loosely followed by an unfamiliar cadence sounding from his chambers. In a panic, his eyes shot open, only to find the lovely Esmeralda braced against his chest. For a moment his paused, assuming his evening encounter was fantasy born of his twisted obsession over the girl. Yet, this was not the truth that lay bundled in his arms.
He should have been elated to have finally have won the only prize he had ever desired, yet he could not dismiss his disgust with himself. He, the lofty monument to virtue, the proud destroyer of the wicked, the fervent defender of law and order, had impulsively gotten in bed with some goddamn pole dancer.
His conscience immediately slapped him. Esmerelda is not "some goddamn pole dancer". She's a strong, independent woman, just trying to keep her people fed.
She wasn't some disgusting harlot who placed no value in herself. She had even been a virgin.
Emphasis on the "had been". Frollo gritted his teeth. His job was to lead the people of France down the path of righteousness, not to…help them misbehave. Sancta Maria Mater Dei! How had he managed, over the course of the past twelve hours, to fall from the most self-disciplined man in the city to a middle-aged man who had watched a 20-year-old girl dance, wrestled against his own desire, and lost?
Esmeralda: Because she was still asleep, her sense of pride and loyalty to her clan did not prevent her from instinctively burrowing closer to the warm body beside her. Her head rested on his chest, his arms were wrapped snuggly around her. His gentle breathing, the soothing crackling of the fireplace, and the comfort of the bedsheets all contributed to make this the best sleep she'd had in weeks.
An unfamiliar sound stirred her sleep. It reminded her of…bells? Why on earth would there be bells in the Court of Miracles? These were much too deep-toned to be Clopin's little jingle bells…
Sleepily, her eyes blinked open. She was curled up in the arms of…
Oh. God. No.
Congratulations, Esmerelda Trouillefou, you have just been seduced by Monsieur Sexy Voice. Who happens to be old enough to be your father. Oh, and he's also trying to ship your entire family out of France. She could not even describe her disgust; the words simply did not exist that could express the depth of loathing she felt for both him and herself.
"You're awake," he said.
"Ummmm…no I'm not awake," Esmerelda replied. "I'm having a really creepy dream. I'm going to wake up back in the Court of Miracles in my wa—OW!"
"You're awake, dear." His thumb and index finger released the skin under her jaw.
"I realize that now," she grumbled.
"Is this the reaction I get after giving everything to you?" Even within minutes of waking up, the judge could still deliver a frosty put-down.
"N-no," Esmerelda backpedaled quickly. She hated having to think first thing in the morning. "I'm—just—overwhelmed. And stunned."
What in Hell had gone so wrong?! Esmerelda had used this schtick before. She'd played men like a little bird teasing a snake, swooping tauntingly around its head, narrowly avoiding those sharp fangs as the snake lunged again and again.
Except this time, she'd been a goddam fool and let the snake bite her.
And bite her, and bite her, and bite her, and…ugh. She pulled the covers up to her chin. If she couldn't see those little red marks that Frollo's teeth had left on her neck and chest from the previous night, maybe she could convince herself that they didn't exist. Damn him, she'd have to cover everything between her navel and her face for a week!
She stiffened in surprise at the gentle tug of fingers in her hair. Those pale, marble hands continued stroking her neck and back. The response should have been revulsion, but Esmerelda instead allowed herself to be coaxed back into his embrace. In spite of herself, she still found his warmth so comforting and reassuring.
Gently, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face to look directly into his. Closing his eyes, he pressed his forehead against her own. Instinctively their lips drifted together. The fierce warmth from the previous night was returning to her bones as the judge held her tighter, hands growing bolder as they caressed her soft skin.
The little voice screamed desperately in her head, telling her to slap him away, but yet again those warm fuzzy feelings turned her iron resolve into overcooked porridge. What use was there in even trying to restrain herself? He'd gotten her good last night, resisting him further was completely pointless…
Frollo: Her legs coiled around his waist, which only drove him further down this path of dark disillusions. Had his captive songbird finally succumbed to his whims? He couldn't be more thrilled if she was.
He gripped her ever tighter, goaded by the visible display of desire swirling in her eyes. He'd craved that gaze, exhilarated that she yearned for his constricting embrace. After all this time, he'd finally crushed that hindering sense of pride she held so dear. The only pride she would hold now, was that she alone belonged to the most powerful politician in Paris.
The bells chimed once again, and her cadence followed suite. His own resolve broke soon after. A sultry sting ebbed through him, and his breath relinquished a distorted growl, deep and foreboding, a reminder of the beast lurking within. Her shivers pulsed through his palms as she trembled mercilessly beneath him. There was even an odd shakiness in her voice when her lips parted to speak, but the words that fell through were stable enough to snap Frollo back into a more sensible state.
"My relatives and my employer will soon notice that I'm missing, and they can figure out where to look. Our conversation outside of the Boar's Head was hardly private." Her words cut through him, sharp and cold. Unfortunately, Esmeralda was not off par. This was not to be a liaison built upon mutuality. They were entangled in something far greater. After all, it wouldn't be long before her companions would scour the city in hopes of finding their missing sister. Gypsies were known to keep a keen eye on their blood, after all. Even Frollo had to be wary with his executions concerning her kind. They required privacy, secrecy, shelter from the wandering eyes of the citizens. Esmeralda would be no different, but hiding her was not his primary concern. Could he trust her to not expose the details of their lascivious evening? Who was to say she wouldn't run back to her hive and cry wolf to the entire caravan? Rumors of him copulating with the very creature he hated would seep through every corner the city, and he knew there were many who would seize that opportunity as grounds to strip him of his titles. No, he had to play his cards safer than before, and the only way to ensure his own security, was to ensure he held all his foreboding power above Esmeralda.
"You speak of this as if I fear your people," Frollo began, a hint of annoyance breaking his lucid tone. "The concerns of your brethren are no concerns of mine, and I refuse to relinquish such a rare gem back to the filthy maws of those slithering deviants."
His words were harsh, but truth cut through his ploy. The minister pushed himself off the girl, a harrowing sigh escaping his lips. This was quite the dilemma. Even with his level of power and influence he couldn't hide her in the palace forever. Word would spread fast as wildfire if any servants saw her, but could he trust the girl to keep her mouth shut if he let her go? She'd been rather complacent, but the fear in her eyes wove a weary tale. She was obviously frightened of him, which put the minister at a greater advantage. The fear gambit was something Frollo specialized in, keeping the commoners at bay with a few simple, minatory words rolling off his tongue. Esmeralda was a free woman no more. She belonged to the judge now, and was as vulnerable to his honeyed words as the rest of his pawns.
She glared anxiously at him, a thousand secrets held captive in her emerald eyes. He couldn't let his guard down around her, this whole endeavor could have turned into some rebellious ruse setup by her
people, though he doubted they were intelligent enough to execute such a clever plan. No, this was all upon her. She was the only piece he had to play.
He quickly snatched her chin, a light gasp escaped her. He smiled in response with a menacing grin.
"You should know well I will not tolerate any nonsense with you. Your value is measured by how much you're able to entertain me, and your so-called freedom was stripped the moment you set foot in my Palace. You're mine, and I expect you to act accordingly," he paused, pulling away from her to gather his robes. "I'll allow you to see your people, but this is not an extended arrangement. Take what you need, tie up any loose ends you have scattered about. You'll return to me this evening."
Updated 1-11-2020. Some small edits for clarity and improved the formatting a little.
