Through some sheer will to keep himself from going completely mental, Frollo had managed to endure the rest of this long, agonizing day. Slumping back in the hard, wooden desk chair, the Minister stared up at the dark ceiling and pondered what his next move should be.
Every document pushed in front of him he welcomed as a distraction when his mind would circle back to earlier…plundering the gypsy girl's sweet mouth-
He clenched his fists as he reeled those thoughts back, attempting to remain collected. Contain yourself! He screamed internally, cursing himself for not staying focused.
You are in control, you are in control! Frollo repeatedly reminded himself. However, doubt shrouded itself as he attempted to bury it back. He stared blankly at the illuminated flagstones in the floor, lost in tumultuous thought.
Such sweet satisfaction—until she shoved him away, Esmeralda showing her disdain for him as plainly as she could and deriding him further. Had anyone spoke to him in such a manner, he would have struck them down in retaliation—or even had them hanged for such nerve!
But he could not bring himself to do such a thing. Not anymore…
The judge sighed in frustration, burying his fingers in his hair as he reflected on the matter. Just a day ago he was prepared to send her and her loved ones to their doom lest she rejected him. Now the very idea of doing so sickened him. Why? He asked himself, stupefied by this shift.
He had not had such a case of conflicting calls in judgment in years—and fueled by some gypsy!
Why was it suddenly so difficult to make a decision over another's life? In his two decades as Minister of Justice, he had never felt so unsure in his decision-making. As a leader of many, indecisiveness was a foreign feeling that made his skin crawl. Why was it so difficult to think clearly when it came to that gypsy? Was he…afraid of her?
Impossible! He tried to reassure himself, his pewter eyes jumping back towards the roaring fireplace across the room that illuminated this dark cavern-like study. To feel intimidated by a girl like her? Preposterous!
Yet…
Why did his heartbeat quicken so when his thoughts turned to Esmeralda? She was only a girl…but he felt as though he would crumble under her scorching green eyes. Even when she looked at him so blankly after being shoved inside her chambers, Frollo could feel her sorcery taking its tight hold over his heart and stopping the judge before he could carry out his sinful desires.
This is her doing, he thought, making himself paranoid. Placing a hand over his eyes, he tried to even his ragged breathing. She wants to enslave you with her wicked ways—that temptress wants to make you weak!
His hands then squeezed into fists at the very thought, rings glistening in the firelight. You will not be seen as weak, especially by some damsel!
Frollo ripped himself from his chair and stormed out of his study, suddenly feeling as though the space was suffocating him. Marching down the long corridor, he turned sharply and pushed through one of doors, stepping outside to the balcony. Frollo strode over and leaned heavily on his hands against the parapet, hanging his head as he tried to recompose himself. He drew in a long, deep breath of the refreshing winter air, which blew gently through his hair.
How quickly things had changed in only a few short days: one day he was explaining to his new Captain on this very balcony the malignities that manifested in Paris…now it seemed as though he could trust absolutely nobody.
Frollo's eyes scanned over the moonlit thatched roofs of Paris, almost every window dark with its tenants fast asleep, no doubt. His eyes fell on a small burning light emitted from the top window of a nearby townhouse. Immediately (and without thinking), he pondered, Probably in the throes of passion-
The Minister shook his head at the very notion, shamefully cradling his face in the palm of his hand as he inwardly chided himself for such an inappropriate thought. The she-devil continues her spell, he cursed, his gray hair falling lankily over his forehead. Placing these impure thoughts in your mind! She might be concocting witches' brew this very moment—just as Medea had used for her enchantments!
Frollo looked pitifully up at the star-sprinkled sky. Samson and Delilah, David and Bathsheba, Virgil and Lucretia, he listed. Oh, how so many men had been ensnared by the charms of a woman.
Exhaustion set in but the judge could not retire now, not when his mind was so rattled because of her.
Speaking of the witch herself... Suddenly he wondered what she might be up to at the moment. As if witches sleep, he thought damningly.
X
Esmeralda stared blankly up at the linen tester hanging from the columns of her grand four-poster bed. The rest of the day had dragged on in both boredom and confusion: one, there was nothing of interest to do since being locked in her chambers; and two, Frollo's abrupt kiss still torturously plagued her mind .
She had only been in the Palace of Justice for a day and already she could feel the stir-crazy sense of confinement sinking in. The Minister might have stated it as a threat, but it was still an excruciating and resonant fact that rang in her mind: Gypsies don't do well inside stone walls…
Staring out the window earlier had only made Esmeralda more miserable than before. The hours ticking by made her desperately miss the outside—the cobblestones and dirt streets, the shouts and laughter of citizens passing each other, the crisp air blowing through her black tresses.
Esmeralda turned over on her side as she remembered the Court of Miracles, and all her friends and family left there. Right now they were probably doing their best to forget the horrors that the Minister of Justice had put them through, comforting each other and reminding themselves that together they stood strong.
Esmeralda wondered how Clopin was handling his sister's newfound captivity. If he had gone into sheer panic over losing her in the market for five minutes when she was just a girl, Esmeralda could only imagine how the man was coping with her being under Frollo's lock and key.
She wrapped the blanket around herself tighter, even though she knew that sleep would not come as easy after everything that had transpired in such a whirlwind of a day. And if Frollo still had not tried to take her yet, Esmeralda began to fear that she might be forced to wither away in these chambers like some isolated—and probably demented—caged bird.
If he's not going to do anything, he might as well just let me leave! She thought frustratedly, shutting her eyes. Behind her closed lids, she saw that dazed expression on his face—a face that was permanently plastered with a stone-like grimace, momentarily softened by lust.
The man was so aggravatingly mysterious, it unsettled Esmeralda to no end. Was she just supposed to bide her time and wait for him to attack?
Dammit. She threw the covers away and got out of bed, sick of these muddled thoughts. Shuffling away from the large bed with her shoulders slumped, she crossed the room and she sat herself back at the small table.
Had the windows not been locked, Esmeralda would have devised a plan of escape of some sort. Now all she could do was stare wistfully out of them, envying the sleeping souls below who could still enjoy the outside world.
Reclining back in the wooden chair, Esmeralda could feel herself missing the Court even more. Walking under dozens of colorful banners...the smell of incense and gypsy pottage brewing over small fire pits...passing by gypsy women gossiping while they tended to chores and their little ones played. She smiled as she recalled walking with her arms stretched out like wings as a child, crossing the wooden planks laid over the waterways running through the underground haven.
Esmeralda abruptly heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, stiffening and already knowing who was entering. Lips turning down and wrinkling her nose, she looked on with dread at the smirking Minister of Justice breezing in.
Ignoring her cautious expression, Frollo tauntingly remarked, "I hope you are not feeling too out of place that you cannot sleep, my dear. I understand it will take some adjustment in transitioning to quarters of luxury, especially after years of sleeping in the city's gutters." Inside he was still at odds with himself over what to do with his prisoner, choosing to hide his inner-turmoil through mockery.
"Not so much the dwelling that bothers me, as the man that trapped me in here," she huskily bit back, seeing Frollo sneer at her response. Esmeralda rose from her seat and walked closer to the judge, arms folded over her chest. "Look here, Frollo. Neither one of us is thrilled about me staying here. You, um…stole a kiss, but you still wish I wasn't here. Why don't we just cut our losses and go our separate ways, that way we can both go back to our lives? You know where the Court of Miracles is now, and my friends and family were granted their freedom back. If you let me go, I promise I'll stay out of your way."
"We had an agreement," Frollo responded, the volume in his voice rising. "Need I remind you? You will stay here as I long as I say."
Pursing her red lips, the gypsy replied, "Have you forgotten that I said I would stay here, but I never said I would give myself to you— and I will fight you with everything I have." Her fierce eyes burned against him, her jaw set in determination as she waited for his response.
A lopsided smile broke over the judge's thin lips. "And have you forgotten that I never promised that I would not launch another raid against your people's home? And I swear, I will torch that underground slum without a second thought!"
Esmeralda turned away from him and brushed a hand over her thick ebony hair. "I don't understand you at all, Minister," she tiredly remarked, her fingers absent-mindedly ran over one of the wooden beams of the bed.
Schooling his expression, Frollo folded his hands behind his back and monotonously replied, "I am not sure it is your place to try to."
"Well, that makes me feel much better about all of this," she sarcastically said, scrutinizing the judge. "Frollo, nothing about this situation makes any sense: you turned the city upside down, you have me here as you wanted, and now you're just going to keep me hostage in this room? I don't get it—everyone knows that you think my people are nothing but vermin, and yet you risked everything for the sake of one to keep as a pet."
Frollo could feel himself frozen under her inquisitive green eyes, as though he stood before a grand jury under question of his deeds.
"I…" he quietly began. He could not explain to her the motives of his efforts, especially when he himself was not entirely sure. And he could not in the right mind let her know that either.
"Just help me understand this," she continued, steepling her fingers together. "You despise us, but you want one in bed. Doesn't that seem just a little, I don't know…self-contradictory? A gypsy of all people? A person can't help but wonder…why? You must think we're more than just scum of the earth."
Clearing his throat, Frollo tried to regain his stone-like façade as he answered, "I have my reasons. Recall the fact that I am not the one with charges under my name. I have enough of a challenge quelling your people from creating chaos in my city. To let a most "vocal" one run free after a stunt like yours would be most unwise. Those low-lives that you call family might assume that they may turn a deaf ear to the law, but when it is broken there are indeed consequences!"
"And what are yours for nearly destroying Paris?" she challenged.
Her question struck him silent. If only she knew of the constant battle raging in his mind because of her—the agonizing mental torture. Vaguely, he answered, "I am paying for my deeds, but I don't expect you to understand."
Esmeralda shook her head in exasperation at his typical response. "Is this how it's going to be?" she asked. "Speaking in riddles, not bothering to make this situation more comfortable for either of us?"
"And how do you suggest we make things more "comfortable", Esmeralda?" He indulged her, prepared to discredit anything she might say.
"Can we at least try and reach an understanding?"
The judge's brows drew together, his eyes never leaving hers as if silently asking her to elaborate.
"You said earlier that trust is something that must be earned," the gypsy began. "Then what do I have to do to earn yours?"
Frollo couldn't help but scoff at her question, a ridiculing smirk stretching over his lips. "Please, I have learned my lesson when it comes to trusting your kind. So I wouldn't count on it anytime soon."
"You won't even let me try?"
He gave a mirthless laugh, eyes skimming over the large chamber and back at her. "In my experience, I have learned to expect nothing more than the kiss of Judas when it comes to putting my faith in gypsies," he rumbled disdainfully. "Apparently treachery is a most prized skill in your culture. I have no intention of building any rapport between us."
Before he could make way for the door, Esmeralda caught him by the arm, the Minister whipping around and casting her a puzzled expression.
"Why can't you just give me a chance?" she asked. "I mean, did some gypsy mislead or make a fool of you that you won't even let me prove that I can be trusted?"
His heartbeat spurred under her gaze, defensively crossing his arms over his chest. He bit back, "That is none of your concern!"
He lowered his eyes away from hers to the floor, Esmeralda noticing a flash of uneasiness on his face.
"Really?" Esmeralda asked in unsurprised disbelief. "You cornered me into staying with you, you're keeping me locked up in this room, and when you look at me, you're like a dog who's found a fresh piece of meat...but all you do is degrade my family. And since you think it's pointless to make an attempt in trusting me, you can at least just tell me why you hold such contempt for us."
Frollo continued to face away from her, a grimace etched in his expression. "It's a…complicated matter," he answered softly, swallowing hard.
"Then that means you don't despise us just for the fun of it," Esmeralda hypothesized, analyzing his countenance and rigid form. "So tell me, Minister…who played you false?"
Frollo's gray eyes looked skyward as he prayed to his higher power for assistance. An old anger was beginning to simmer inside, increasing under her questions and judging green orbs.
With an exasperated sigh, he uttered, "I really do not wish to discuss this."
Esmeralda continued to examine his uncharacteristic body language. Instead of standing as stiff as an oak, he seemed fidgety as he kept his arms folded, nervously looking away from the young woman.
Nevertheless, she still pried, "Come on, Frollo. Who wronged you so badly that you wouldn't dare trust a single gypsy?"
"I am warning you, I would rather not," he growled, his patience wearing thinner and thinner.
"Well if we want this little arrangement to work, we have to find some way to understand each other," she diplomatically countered. "How can you expect a gypsy to be honest when you can't even bring yourself to do the same?"
"Don't you dare rebuke me for what you do not understand!" he explosively reacted, pointing a finger at her. "The trespasses made against me at the hands of your kin is strictly personal—therefore, you will not ask me again! Do I make myself clear?"
She hid the alarm from such a reaction by forcefully keeping her expression straight. Esmeralda looked on it at him in silence, testing him. The Minister reminded her of a mad dog with his bared teeth and murderous look in his granite eyes. Still, she would remain as undeterred as ever, crossing her arms over her chest this time and eyeing the trembling judge.
"Fine," she reluctantly agreed, seeing as it was useless in arguing in circles with this man.
Frollo stepped back from her, a look of indignance on his expression before running a hand over his face in agitation.
"Then you can at least tell me one thing?" Esmeralda gently asked, studying his anxiety.
"What?" he said shakily, straightening up.
"How in the hell did you convince the King to let you do this?"
Frollo almost wanted to laugh when he thought of the letter he wrote earlier, probably on Louis's desk by now.
"I informed His Majesty that you, my dear, are leverage—by keeping such a much-loved member of their community, the gypsies will obey the law for your safety. And that should they cross the line, the consequences will befall them and you."
Esmeralda tilted her chin up as she looked hostilely at him. Frollo looked down his crooked nose at her, casting an unpleasant smile towards her. "You really are a sick man," she resentfully commented.
"Calm yourself, gypsy, I have no intention of doing such a thing. After the mess that's ensued, it would seem meaningless if I did away with you now." He imagined how empty such an act of "justice" would leave him after all that trouble. This constant battle of enmity and infatuation had already caused him enough grief.
"I might not be as versed in the law as you, Minister, but just out of curiosity…is there anyone who inspects these policies to make sure they're valid?" Esmeralda asked, a subtle edge in her voice. "Just to ensure that there's no corruption in the King's government?"
"I know you may think my orders are arbitrary—as many do—but they have always been written for the greater good," Frollo answered defensively.
"And you would swear on your life that that's the case?"
Frollo neared closer to the defiant girl, his face inches from hers. In a most dangerous voice, he replied, "I will argue to the grave that it was the right thing to do."
For a moment, Esmeralda only stared back at him, her expression never changing and irritating him further in doing so. Ambling towards the window once more, Esmeralda remarked, "Keep telling yourself that, judge."
A vein throbbed in his temple at her continued impertinence, his anger reaching its boiling point. Her attention aimed back out at the dark city, Esmeralda did not see the Minister's face contort in furious indignity. His chest heaved as his breathing labored, fists shaking and itching to strike the rebellious young woman. Frollo moved closer to her, Esmeralda now facing back at him.
"Never in my life," he slowly began, his temper ready to burst. "Have I encountered a gypsy with so much impudence!" Without warning, he turned around and launched the nearby wooden chair across the room, its crash against the stone wall echoing harshly. Esmeralda flinched some before he turned back at her with the most deranged expression on his face, his gray hair mussed and his nostrils flaring. For a fleeting moment, he resembled one of those hideous, scowling demons carved into the outside of Notre Dame.
"Why?!" he thundered, stooped over and shaking in rage as he looked up at her.
Esmeralda's heart raced in her chest in fear that he might pounce on her like a wolf. On one hand, she did not want to provoke him further, very aware of the violent anger he possessed. But on the other, she refused to be seen as weak. If she was going to stay here, she would make sure that she was not a toy to be played with.
"I am not afraid of you," she asserted, hiding her uneasiness. She steeled herself, prepared to defend herself against him.
Lunging forward, Frollo grabbed Esmeralda by the arm and pulled her towards him. "I can change that very easily, I assure you!" he snarled.
Without thinking, Esmeralda reached and harshly pried his hand off of her and shoved him away, backing further against the large window behind her. "And I told you that I will fight you with every fiber of my being!" she threateningly warned, the Minister struck speechless by her retaliation.
Frollo could only stare back at his audacious little witch, mouth hung open in bewilderment. Her daring green eyes seemed to gleam in the moonlight pouring in above her, captivating and challenging him.
It was in that moment, she looked every bit as forbiddenly beautiful as she did that day at the Festival, fearlessly standing up and cursing him. Her tilted chin, squared shoulders, and spiteful frown…as powerful and magnificent as Athena herself, he longingly mused, still dazed.
"You're right," he whispered, blinking out of his trance and shifting his eyes away. Esmeralda looked baffled at his sudden transition in tone, expecting another savage outburst. Careful of his changing moods, her gaze never left him. "You're right," he repeated more audibly.
Turning on his heels, Frollo wearily trudged towards the chambers door. With one hand on the handle, he paused for a moment, wordlessly staring at the wooden barrier. Esmeralda anticipated some biting comment against her, but heard none as the Minister exited and locked the door behind him.
The gypsy stepped carefully across the room, all the while listening attentively in case Frollo might suddenly return. Kneeling, she examined the wooden chair strewn over and found one of its arms broken off. Picking the part up and inspecting it, Esmeralda sardonically thought, Day one.
*A/n: Thanks for then kind words from everyone. Writer's block almost had me over a barrel, but I endure! Thoughts, feelings? Read and review please!