Esmeralda's arm tingled with numbness from the sudden change of suspension from manacles to the powerful grip of the Minister of Justice's hold as he pulled her harshly through the Palace's halls. The Parisian sky was ominously orange and black from the still-burning flames set ablaze only days ago, giving the dark, barren corridor the only light, shadows covering the pair as they strode through.
Esmeralda pulled her arm stubbornly, trying to free herself from Frollo's grasp. "I already said that I would stay—you don't have to treat me like a child!" she protested, feeling his grip never let up. Frollo stopped abruptly and turned around to face his bold little captive, fire burning in his eyes as he stared at her forebodingly. The hellish glow pouring in through the windows cast shadows upon the judge's face, making him look more ferocious and almost demonic as he frowned heavily upon her.
"I am aware of what you said, but do not think for an instant that I would suddenly give you my trust. If I did that, no doubt you would try to escape our little arrangement at the first opportune moment. I know firsthand how crafty your kind can be." His words might have been baneful, but they were not enough to frighten the impertinent gypsy girl, who pursed her lips and glared at him in defiance.
"And why would I do that?" she asked, almost mockingly. "Then this deal would all be for nothing, wouldn't it? I run off, and you wipe out everyone I love—where's the logic in that? If you want me to stay here, you're going to have to learn to trust me, Frollo."
Her look of determination bathed in the fiery, nightmarish glow made her look so fierce as Frollo momentarily contemplated her words, forgetting that he was still holding her arm tightly and unrelentingly. Blinking back to the actual matter at hand, he answered, "Trust is something that must be earned first. Until then, I believe it's safe to say that I will keeping a close eye on you, gypsy." With that, he pulled her again, leading her down the corridor once more.
Shaking her head at his stubbornness, Esmeralda then found herself drawn to the Palace of Justice's atmosphere as they glided through swiftly. Its thick stone walls without any portraits or even religious imagery surprised her, to say the least, especially for a man like Claude Frollo.
"What, no grand tour?" she quipped before she found herself being pulled up the long staircase of what she vaguely remembered was the foyer of the Palace—a wide space and doors at every end. Taking a right, Frollo dragged her forward until coming to a sudden halt some ten or twelve doors later. Reaching beneath his heavy dark robe, he found a set of keys, unlocking the door and pushing the girl inside.
Closing the door behind him, Frollo stood motionlessly as he studied the girl who stood in the center of the large bedroom, back turned to him as she took in what little there was once her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Even in her tattered white prisoner garb, she looked magnificent—almost ghost-like. How her long ebony hair flowed gracefully, even when she turned around to face him again with a look of indifference. Such gentle beauty left him momentarily breathless as he felt himself lean wearily against the wooden door behind him, chaperon cushioning his head as continued to gaze dumbly at her, speechless.
Eyes darting from the floor back to his stare, Esmeralda emotionlessly said, "Well…Let's get this over with." Letting her hands fall to her side, and averting her gaze again to barely acknowledge the large bed to her left.
Such monotone roused him from his lustful gaze, shaking the enchanted Minister out of his spell. "Excuse me?" he asked without thinking as he straightened up, adjusting his hat.
"You wanted me here—I'm here, so let's just be done with it already." Esmeralda crossed her arms and stared at the stone floor, waiting for his next move.
Unbeknownst to her, Frollo's expression seemed to soften—no…a look of sadness seemed to adorn his harsh countenance. He finally had the gypsy girl in his clutches, what he had desired more than anything for the past few days. She had consented to giving herself to him in the comfort and seclusion of a bedroom just as he had wished for…
But he studied her stoicism…how reluctantly willing she was to appease him without any sort of feeling but negativity towards him. Boldly sacrificing her freedom for the sake of others by satisfying his sinful desires. Now here she was, prepared to give him just that, without so much as a fight…Such a simple chance to finally silence those urgent cravings...
Yet, why did he feel so…unhappy? So undeserving, so…guilty? Torn between the innermost human desire, and…shame? His mind suddenly flashed back to that faithful day as she twirled and teased him fearlessly before confronting and chiding him in front of the whole city of Paris. That fire! It was that energy and spirit that ignited his own and burned unextinguishedly for her. To see her so numb and stagnant was…heartbreaking.
God, what are you thinking? He inwardly scolded himself. You have won your prize, now go claim her! Oh, how he had endlessly envisioned her nude form clutching at his own, sounds of pleasure escaping both of their lips, and driving all of his energy into a frenzy of carnal passion. The fires consuming his city worth such lecherous delight...not thinking about the ashes filling the air as he held her voluptuous form to his own lean one...
But still, to take her as he wanted, albeit with her relinquished zest…What would he really have gained? What is a bird without its plume? What is a snake without its bite?
What was this goddess without her vigorous spirit? His heart sunk at such a question, envisioning a cold, unfeeling corpse-like gypsy underneath his body.
That wild, burning passion that he possessed for her…would not be returned. There would be absolutely nothing between them. The very thought left Frollo winded as his head reeled from these crushing thoughts.
Esmeralda looked at him apprehensively, confused by his sudden gasp for air. "Are you okay?" she asked, taking a step back, unsure of what he might do next.
Rubbing at his temple, Frollo looked at the surprised young woman who returned his perplexed expression. "I…I am just fine," he lied breathlessly as he tried to recompose himself, removing his hat and running a hand through his gray hair, heart hammering in his chest.
Esmeralda nodded slightly, arms still crossed. "So…what? Aren't you going to…?" Her eyes gave him his answer.
"No," he sternly replied, back straightening and eyes locked on her as she shifted awkwardly.
Looking back up at the judge, Esmeralda responded, "Well, isn't that what you wanted me for? That's what this whole mess was about in the first place. What do you want from me then?"
He placed his hat back upon his head. "First of all, that was not the only reason this fiasco ensued—you seemed to have forgotten about your little act of public defiance. And second, you will remain here as long as I say, as previously stated," his voice was even despite the storm of conflicting thoughts brewing in his turmoiled mind. "I should be attending to the last matters at hand. As requested, it appears that I now have a horde of gypsies and two traitors that need releasing from custody. You, in the meantime, shall remain in this room. I will send for one of the servants to bring you something to eat."
Turning around, Frollo pulled the door open and shut it quickly, locking it without another word. Outside in the quiet hallway, he exhaled a sigh of mixed feelings, not sure whether to be proud or angered with himself for denying himself her body at the first chance…to finally bring his lewd fantasies to life.
Never mind that, there is work to be done! With that thought, he set off to clean up the mess for which he was responsible.
Meanwhile, Esmeralda stood alone in the dark bedroom, frozen in place, a million thoughts racing through her mind. What the hell just happened? she asked herself.
Had Frollo—the lustful, sanctimonious, vindictive, lunatic arsonist Minister of Justice—really denied himself her body? The chance to ravish her as he pleased without fear of a higher power intervening or a second thought? Was that not the whole point of his incendiary crusade of the city?
Breaking from her statuesque pose, Esmeralda turned and sat down carefully at the foot of the great bed, trying to make sense of Frollo's actions. This man was truly a mystery, she surmised. For most of her life, there seemed to only be one side of him, which was the gypsy-despising, religious zealot who ruled Paris with an iron fist.
To see him undone by a simple street dancer and driven mad with desire was astounding and frightening at the same time. All he seemed to want was to quench his thirst for her body, but at the first opportunity he had done nothing. It was all incredibly confusing. How was she supposed to cope with this newfound captivity when he was as unpredictable as a lightning strike?
Esmeralda's green eyes looked around the vast room, noticing the orange light streaming in through the curtained windows, which gave her a chance to study the place. A round table with a single chair some feet past the door; at the far end of the room was an unlit fireplace; above it, a large iron cross.
A reminder of sorts, she thought sarcastically, turning away and walking towards one of the windows and drawing the curtain. In the distance she could see the piercing spires of Notre Dame, standing strong even as her city suffered at the hands of its so-called "protector."
She frowned at the thought. Religion was never something that she understood in its entirety. In the Court of Miracles, the belief was to put faith in one's self and those who could be trusted as opposed to incanting old liturgy and reading some thousand year old book. How ironic that something that supposedly purported peace was used as a tool for destruction at the hands of someone like Frollo, who arrogantly believed himself to be holier than all.
But then again, she began to ponder, gaze still out the window. Despite all that he justified through his faith—including his treatment of her and her fellow Romani—something had overcome him. Something that stopped him from carrying out his violent urges upon her…but what? Esmeralda turned her head and looked back at the religious symbol hanging above the fireplace. Whether or not it was something like divine intervention, she knew she should watch her step.
No telling what he'll do in a moment's notice, she told herself, turning her attention back upon the charred city and reminding herself of what the man was capable of. At any rate, hopefully Frollo would indeed keep his end of the bargain and free those for whom she was putting her neck on the line.
Looking back to the cathedral, Esmeralda could feel herself missing the familiar sound of the famous bells. Quasimodo, please be alright, she prayed. If there was any good in the world, hopefully the judge would not take out any more of his anger on his ward.
X
"Captain!" The Minister barked, his mustachioed soldier at attention and awaiting orders. Frollo had returned to the dungeons, prepared to give up everything that he had worked so hard for…for twenty long years. "There has been a slight change in agenda," Frollo explained, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "I order you to set the release of all gypsies arrested from yesterday's siege, as well as the former Captain, Phoebus de Chateaupers," he said the ex-Captain of the Guard's name with a suppressed amount of hatred in an attempt to appear professional. Frollo could hear the moans and gripes coming from the crowded cells; the raid on the Court of Miracles had resulted in more arrests than the dungeons were prepared to accommodate.
"But…But sir," the current captain spoke. "You specifically ordered for the arrest of all gypsies when we stormed the Court-"
"And now I am ordering you to undo those arrests! Do you follow, Captain?" Frollo's fierce voice struck fear into the man, as well as his fellow soldiers around him.
"Of-of course, Minister," the captain stammered. "It shall be done immediately." He nodded to his men who looked hesitantly at their leaders, dumbfounded by this strange decision made by the Minister.
"Today!" Frollo ordered. With that command, the guards scattered about, fumbling for keys to unlock the numerous cells, Frollo storming out before he could see the greatest work of his career undone in less than a day. Besides…there was still another part of the deal that he needed to deal with. A headache was forming as he imagined the faces of relief adorning those gypsies as their cell doors would swing open, being told they were released by the Minister.
Once outside, he quickly commanded his coach driver to take him to the cathedral, stepping into the small dark atmosphere. The vehicle lurching forward, Frollo sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands while he mulled over the endless thoughts in his mind. Everything seemed to be coming apart at the seams—all that he had ever strived for, the magnum opus of his career, his mental health. All that he cared about seemed to be going to ruins.
His whole career, Frollo had kept a clean record for the most part. The only time that King Louis had questioned the judge's abilities was when word got out that the latter had abruptly become a father to a deformed foundling. Even then, he had been able to convince the monarch that he was capable of keeping his city in check. When he torched the city, Frollo had sent word to Louis that everything was under control and that such bedlam served a higher purpose, unsurprisingly met with the king's approval. To say that he used the king's superstition for his own benefit was an understatement; the fact that the man was nicknamed "The Prudent" was almost laughable.
Without warning, Frollo's mind conjured the glowing face of his prisoner locked away in his home. Prisoner…suddenly Frollo felt sick and contrite over the notion. With all the adoration and weakness he held for the bright young woman, he had made her nothing more than that. Just like those damned souls beneath the Palace…
But how else would she bend to him? There was no way in hell that she would come willingly had he not threatened her and her loved ones. What if he hadn't? That ape of a Captain would have surely snatched her away in the blink of an eye! How was he supposed to be feeling about this? Anger and hatred towards the girl, for whom he burned his home in the effort to capture her? Or remorse that he himself chose this course of action in a blind passion? Would he ever be able to win her over?
Frollo barely registered that the coach came to a halt, indicating their arrival at Notre Dame, exiting reluctantly. His cold eyes traveled from the intricate designs of saints on the façade's portals, to the two towers that stood gargantuanly above him, sharp as the Devil's pitchfork. He snapped his gaze away when it lingered on the bell tower for too long, for that was where he was headed anyway.
Pushing the doors open slowly, Frollo stepped inside, glancing about. The church was silent as the grave, and not an Archdeacon in sight, much to his relief. He could make his trip quick and less aggravating than he preferred. With that, he glided through the nave before reaching the steps to the bell tower, climbing them solemnly up to the home of the bell-ringer. Wooden steps creaking under him, he heard the instinctive question from one of his guards that he had stationed here, "Who goes there?"
His expression stoic and grim, the soldier and his comrade nodded and respectfully greeted their leader as he stood before them once recognized. Over their shoulders, Frollo could see the round-backed figured slumped over, burly arms suspended by iron chains wrapped around stone columns. The boy was a shell of himself, broken and hopeless over the fate of his friends since being arrested. Despite the feeling of justification in ordering such a sentence, Frollo looked away and gravely told them, "Release the boy."
The two guards exchanged confused expressions before looking back at their master to test the situation. "Are you deaf? Must I repeat myself? Release him at once!" This sent the two scrambling back to undo the silent bell-ringer's iron bonds, quickly retreating afterwards, leaving the boy and his master alone in a stifling silence.
Just as the Minister was set to exit the bell tower, he heard his subordinate's voice lowly ask, "Where is she?"
He turned back somewhat, refusing to meet the dark blue eyes of his charge. Frollo pondered for a moment of how he should answer. Unfortunately for him, his ward cared deeply for the gypsy, just as much as he did. It would not be much help to lie about her status and whereabouts, given the trust that Quasimodo had held for him was now hanging by a very thin thread.
"She is safe and out of the dungeons," he answered vaguely, his voice was almost hushed, trying to retain his usual enigmatic appearance. He did not want to let the myriad of emotions battling over the gypsy's situation to reveal themselves in the form of an outburst of confession. It pained him a little to know that Esmeralda cared for the boy and regarded him as a friend despite his monstrous form.
"Where is she?" Quasimodo asked again, this time more firmly, all the while never breaking his scornful gaze from his former mentor.
Frollo sighed, his mind so cluttered that he barely cared about such insolence in his ward's tone. "At the Palace of Justice. She has exchanged her freedom for that of her gypsy family, the former Captain, and of yours, Quasimodo."
"What do you want with her?" The hunchback questioned him accusingly, striking the judge like an arrow. With the recent events, Quasimodo had no doubt come to see the man for what he truly was, destroying the long-standing admiration and devotion that he held for his adoptive father.
At such a point, Frollo wondered if it was worth weaving yet another lie to keep his dwindling reputation intact, or to tell him to shameful truth of his plans regarding Esmeralda.
"She broke the law, and I seek to carry out an appropriate punishment," Frollo explained. "And, to some extent…I seek to reform her. Hopefully with proper time and education, she can be steered towards the right path. To learn to embrace God and renounce her heathen ways."
For the first time, Frollo witnessed a look of hostility on his ward's misshapen face. To see this from such a soft-spoken and shy person like Quasimodo unnerved the judge. He was well-aware of his great strength and what he was physically capable of, slightly fearful the boy might snap him like a twig.
Glowering at his master, Quasimodo severely instructed, "Don't you dare hurt her. She's my friend, and I'll do anything to help her."
Frollo was astonished at such loyalty the boy held for her, which could possibly match that which he held for the Minister for twenty years.
Typical of himself, Frollo only vaguely answered, "I will do what I must," before quickly exiting the bell tower. The day was young and there was still much to do.
*A/n: Hope it's okay. Leave reviews, they keep me motivated!