Esmeralda awoke the next morning with an eagerness to jump out of bed. The idea of being able to finally get out of this stifling room for a change energized her, something she hadn't felt in an eternity. After all, she hadn't been outside her chamber in days and was, frankly, itching to step out. As she washed her face from the nearby basin, she heard the rattle of a key turning in the latch and grabbed the linen cloth to dry her face, expecting to see the usual servant bringing her breakfast.
Into the chambers stepped the grim-faced Minister of Justice, deftly twirling the metal key between his fingers. "Now then, are you ready to put this little arrangement to the test?" he uttered cockily, a wicked smile cracking over his face.
Tossing aside the wet cloth, Esmeralda returned this challenging smile, which was equally devoid of humor. "Absolutely," she answered back confidently, stepping toward him, unwavering. She was determined to best him at his own game—Someone needs to take him down a peg, she thought, vexed by his mere presence. How the idea of making him look foolish was tantalizing.
"Need I go over the stipulations agreed upon?" Folding his hands behind his back, Frollo stood stiffly before the door and never took his eyes off her.
Arms crossed over her chest, Esmeralda offered a listless expression, as if this agreement was nothing of interest and she wasn't aching to get out of her confinement. Boredly, she answered, "Stay out of your office and chambers; no dungeons, courtyards, or third floor; and don't bother your staff. I know, I know."
"Very good. Now let me remind you: the Palace of Justice may be behemoth in size but offers little to see. You may find yourself a bit disappointed in the lack of intrigue. Nevertheless, I will remain a man of my word and allow you to roam—within the parameters, of course."
"Well, I'm sure I can find something to do," Esmeralda raised with a sarcastic smile, not going to be deterred by him. "I'm sure I can kill a few hours. In a place this big, who knows?"
Frollo offered an amused smirk and a menacing gleam in his eyes. "This fortress has been standing for over three centuries; nobody has uncovered all of the Palace's secrets, myself included. No matter how clever you might be, I highly doubt you will uncover anything that even I was unaware of."
His slight quickly made Esmeralda's lip twitch in frustration and her arms grip tighter. "Hm, you're probably right," she responded in false respect, which sickened even herself as the words left her lips. But perhaps an attempt to get his guard down was one worth making. "A palace guarded this tightly, perhaps I won't find anything more than a few cobwebs and nothing else. But what's the harm in letting me see for myself?"
Her sarcasm was not lost on the judge, as evidenced by the crease of his brow at her. Raising the key before her eyes, he mocked, "If at any point you find yourself unable to see our agreement to the end, feel free to tell me personally that you forfeit. I will be glad to lock you up again myself." The rich condescension in his voice easily made Esmeralda's skin prickle.
"How considerate," she icily bit, gently pushing Frollo's hand away from her face. Despite the surprise in herself for this bold move, she kept her tone even as to remain unshaken. "But I won't be giving you the satisfaction of quitting so easily. So why don't we cut to the chase and get this little game started?"
Ignoring the skip in his heartbeat when she brushed his hand away, Frollo set his jaw at her impudence. "I should say so. And I'm sure it won't come to you wandering the halls aimlessly because you've found nothing to your amusement." He inwardly prayed that these veiled warnings might give her some second thoughts; he would love to see her cower and fail—crawling back to him and begging for mercy.
"Just be ready to eat your words soon," she sharply countered, her artificial smile instantly disappearing. "Gypsy or not, I think I can stay out of trouble."
"We shall see then. And do try not to let the stifling boredom get the better of you. What, with the endless corridors, vacant rooms, locked doors, books that you couldn't possibly comprehend…but I'm sure that shouldn't be a problem for you, should it, Esmeralda?" How he relished in saying that name—savoring it like fine wine—especially knowing he held sway over her future here in his home.
Esmeralda quickly pushed the thought of taking a swing at him out of her head, not that it would be much help. Having just about enough of his loftiness, she spitefully retorted, "Then why don't we stop talking and get on with it, then?"
Frollo huffed with derision through his nose and offered her a sneer. "I suppose we should." He airily waved his arm toward the door, challenging her to make the first move. Esmeralda, in turn, attempted to mask her eagerness to leave with a look of hesitance before carefully exiting her chambers.
In a moment, the pair stood face to face in the empty hallway, eyeing each other with blatant distrust. Gripping the metal key in his hand tighter, Frollo steeled himself as he gazed down at the young lady and again warned, "No tricks, no games—one misstep, and I'll have you locked up and back here before you can blink. And remember: I have eyes all over this Palace."
"So I've heard," she snarked, itching to get out of his radius. "No gypsy sorcery under your roof, I promise. You'll learn to trust me."
"Highly unlikely, as I have my presumptions. But…prove me wrong." With a careful step back and last look, Frollo glided away with his black robe billowing around him.
Plottingly rubbing her hands together, Esmeralda studied the now empty hallway filling with morning light from its windows. Let's see what we can find.
X
The Minister reared his horse to meet the former Captain, now adorned in plain gray armor with his horse trotting alongside his fellow mounted soldiers and not riding point. After a day in the stocks, the once famous sun god looked visibly haggard from such a trial, like some of that old swagger he had when arriving in Paris with was sapped gone. Phoebus fought to keep his expression flat despite his utter contempt for his smug superior, even though his demotion reduced him back to another nameless goon among the ranks.
"Ah, Private Phoebus," Frollo greeted with false amiability, eliciting no response from the man. This small instance of defiance was enough to make the judge scowl. "It is refreshing to see you back to following orders." A good look indeed, he mulled to himself, more than pleased to have the upper hand once more.
Raising his voice, Frollo threateningly announced to the rest of his squadron, "Let this be a reminder to the rest of you, should any idea of insubordination cross your minds: no crime shall go unpunished. Though I believe the more appropriate sentence is that which is set in stone, one may be spared should their worth outweigh their crime. However, this is a solitary act of mercy, and I will not tolerate any more misbehavior. Do the lot of you understand?" After the last few days of madness they had been forced to incite, the Minister's men obediently nodded their heads and uttered words in agreement.
"Good," Frollo spat, gripping the horse's reins. "Now to your posts—on the double!" With that commanding baritone, the soldiers scrambled like roaches. As the horse-backed squadron began to ride off, Phoebus sat for a moment and leered menacingly at the judge as if to challenge his superior. "Today, Phoebus!" Frollo barked, sending a reluctant former captain trotting off with the rest of the men.
It infuriated the Minister that a man guilty of going against his commanding officer was still allowed among the ranks—a fraction of the punishment deserved! Had it not been for this little arrangement at Esmeralda's insistence, he would have been rid of the rebellious soldier days ago. Ideally, the fallen captain would be rotting in the Bastille like every other traitor. But at least Phoebus would prove to be less of a nuisance at the bottom of the squadron food chain.
But to make her open to him, it was a risk he needed to take. This was proving to be a great deal of appeasement for very little reward. Though begrudgingly, Frollo prayed that by keeping Phoebus employed, Esmeralda might learn to trust him—unlikely as that might be. Conversely, the idea of trusting her seemed as far away as the stars.
But enough of that, he attempted to bring himself back to the present. Snapping the reins of his fearsome black horse, he set off through the streets of Paris. Since this little bout of chaos, he knew he needed to inspect the well-being of the city.
The Minister's stormy gray eyes scanned through the streets, suddenly regarding the amount of ash in the still smoky air. He took note of the houses that he ordered his men to singe only days ago, their remains now mere timber skeletons of their former selves being picked through by beggars. He was momentarily frozen as, for the first time in days, he had looked at the damage he had done—truly looked and understood.
Had he seriously made his men almost decimate Paris in the pursuit of one girl? And for what? Now innocent citizens were left without homes while his prisoner was kept comfortable and fed? All to deny himself her flesh out of the very guilt of this whole ordeal. It felt like a rock was sitting in his stomach as he forced himself to look away.
Dear God, what have you done? An inner voice accusatorily raised. The smell of burnt wood wafted through the air and almost accentuated the point. Agonized cries echoed throughout the streets now as homeless citizens bemoaned their plight. The very people he was sworn to protect were now made into collateral damage. His eyes briefly met those of a ragged-looking mother nearby, who seemed to be cursing him as she and her children sifted through the wreckage.
He passed through the marketplaces and noticed a handful of gypsy performers, tunefully playing an old native song while their eyes regarded a battered hat where coins were collected. Quite brave to be resuming old practices so soon, he thought, resisting to call his men to arrest them as he would have done not so long ago. He briefly wondered if he had ever passed by Esmeralda prior to their altercation at the Festival.
He rubbed his neck nervously as he noticed that the common Parisians seemed to eye them with greater wariness than he had seen before. Frollo couldn't help but speculate that his fiery tirade had influenced their outlook on the gypsies further, and not for the better.
He didn't even notice that in his musings he had pulled his horse upon some colorful—and familiar-looking—gypsy van. Dismounting and stepping forward, Frollo glanced inside. Within, he found the once lively gypsy king slumped against the caravan wall with his feet propped up on a small wooden stool. In his hands he was absentmindedly sharpening a poniard with a whetstone while his head hung low and morosely. Upon hearing footsteps, Clopin somberly greeted, "The show's taking a break for a while." He didn't even bother to look up to see the steely eyes of the judge peering in.
"Somehow I believe we'll survive without it," Frollo coldly rebuked, causing the gypsy's attention to snap up.
"You," Clopin seethed, stabbing his poniard into the wooden floor and leaping to his feet. He leaned over the edge of the window, making the worn cloth awning shake and threatening to collapse. Clopin pushed himself within mere inches of the judge's crooked nose, a snarl twisting over the gypsy man's expression. "What the hell do you want?" Clopin growled, fingers tightening around the wooden ledge.
Never backing down, Frollo merely returned the acrimonious leer. "Your rogue gypsy princess has asked me to send a message: she wants to assure you that she is safe and you needn't worry about her." He offered a casual wave of his hand, as though he were discussing some trivial subject like the weather.
Clopin suppressed the urge to jump out of the caravan and wrap his hands around the Minister's throat, knowing full well that he'd find himself immediately back in the dungeons. "'Safe'," he repeated with disgust, his chest beginning to heave. "With you? She'd be safer hanging over the side of a cliff!"
Frollo's lips twitched into a humorless smirk. "Given that she bartered her freedom for yours, it would be unwise to do away with her so soon. Not after having released you and your band of misfits—and not to mention leaving that damned gypsy hovel intact."
"Hardly intact anymore! Ransacked and looted—our one place to call our own, still crawling with soldiers. Do you expect me to thank you for that? You burned this city, locked us up, and you're keeping Esmeralda prisoner—I should cut you open right here!" Clopin emphasized his point by raising a fist that shook with fury.
"Slit my throat and the King will have you gutted and left as food for the crows," Frollo warned and took a step forward. Maybe the threat was a bit exaggerated, but he wouldn't dare be spoken to in such a manner by some gypsy puppeteer.
"Pfft! Sounds more pleasant than what you've done to my sister: made her into some whore! You so much as lay a finger on her, and my men and I will storm that Palace and I'll disembowel you myself—I swear it! Even your title can't stop a dagger from running through you."
"There'll be no need for such barbarism. So long as she remains under my lock and key, I advise you and your crew of degenerates to stay your blade. Lest you'd prefer the little dancer to perish so soon after her release." Frollo folded his arms over his chest confidently as he was sure that these cutting words would silence the man.
"Not much of a "release" if you've moved her from one prison to another," Clopin noted, hands itching to put a fist to the judge's face, instead choosing to ball them in agitation.
"Then perhaps next time I will forgo mercy and send her straight to the fire," the judge venomously retorted, eager to pull this man out by the collar and hand him off to the soldiers.
The two exchanged antagonistic scowls as silence pressed between them for a moment, both gritting their teeth like animals pitted against each other. "You can't keep her there forever," Clopin stated confidently, his voice low and unwavering. "She'll find a way out. And I'd hate to be you when you turn around and she's got a knife to your throat, and you're the one begging for mercy."
"It doesn't take a scholar to see that the Palace is impenetrable; under my watch, there's no way she will escape." Frollo turned and began to mount back up on his horse, satisfied that he had gained the upper hand in this verbal dance. A faint smirk played at his dark lips.
"She got out of Notre Dame, didn't she?" Clopin pointed out, now casually leaning forward on his elbows and wearing a contemptuous smile. Frollo instantly turned his attention back towards the van, not liking the gypsy's implication one bit.
The Minister sneered at him and gripped the horse's reins tightly in his hands. "This time she won't have any of her colorful cohorts to help her. Unless she plans to tunnel out or scale the walls, she won't be making any escape plans any time soon."
"She'll find a way. And even if she doesn't, believe you me: she'll find a way to make a fool of you."
As if more to himself, Frollo only remarked, "We shall see about that." Smoothly turning his steed away, he gave the horse a quick squeeze with his heels to disappear back into the Paris streets.
X
Esmeralda swung open yet another door, green eyes scanning over another room filled with covered furniture. Numbly, she ambled in and continued to glance around. You'd think a place this big would have something more to offer than hundred-year-old furniture, she mused to herself, the painful boredom continuing to wear down on her. Even when her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she wasn't the least bit surprised to see there really was nothing here. She was reluctant to concede that Frollo might have been right: it wouldn't be long before the doldrums began to take a greater hold, and she would be right back to where she had started. As of yet, she had managed to kill an hour, at best.
Without warning, a voice piped up and startled the gypsy. "I-I hope you're not looking to cause any trouble!" The small feminine voice attempted to sound brave against this prowling stranger, but Esmeralda breathed easy upon finding it was only a short Palace maid, not much younger than herself.
Running a hand over one of the sheeted chairs, Esmeralda sardonically quipped, "Wouldn't dream of it." As she wiped the light dust off from her fingers, she considered the innumerable rooms she had passed through only to find them either empty or filled with chairs that haven't been sat on for ages.
"Well, in any case, um…M-Minister Frollo entrusted me to keep watch over you," the maiden girl stammered, now eyeing Esmeralda from under her white coif with caution and curiosity. "Just to ensure that you don't do anything rash."
"Never short of generosity, is he?" Esmeralda chuckled humorlessly. Now it made sense as to why Frollo was more open to giving her some freedom in the Palace: it would be simpler to appease her in their deal if there was little to nothing of interest to find in his home. "I suppose after everything that's happened, the last thing I want to do is cross him again. And it's "Esmeralda", by the way." The gypsy extended her hand, the servant girl hesitantly shaking it, but not without wary eyes flickering over Esmeralda's hand, as if a dagger would magically appear in her palm. "And you are…?"
"Lu-Lucile," she meekly answered, lowering her eyes away from the gypsy. The half-curtsy she gave seemed like an afterthought. "And what…what may I ask are you up to now?"
"Well, Frollo gave me free reign of the place, so long as I don't trespass a few forbidden sections." Exiting the room, the young girl dutifully followed Esmeralda.
"You'll have to forgive me," Lucile said, carefully studying her. "I shouldn't say this, but the Minister has truly never been so out of character until the Festival."
"I figured that much. I take it he's never entertained a gypsy in a place of such high esteem?"
"Never. To be frank, this entire ordeal has been quite strange for all of us."
"You and me both," Esmeralda joked, glancing about the dreary space. "I've lived in Paris my whole life—I never would have imagined anything like this happening. And here I was afraid I was going to see the Montfaucon before the inside of this place."
"Yes, well, um…Minister Frollo has briefed us on your agreement: one week to prove that you can stay out of trouble."
"That's the idea. But I have to say, seeing as most of these rooms are the same, I think it's going to be a very long week." Truthfully, the idea was settling back into Esmeralda's mind again, in that she would be stuck circling around her own chamber and become maddeningly restless. A darker thought had crossed her mind already: if she could find nothing in the first few days, what would she do for the rest of this foreseeable future, stuck in this place? She was beginning to fear that Frollo's threat might have had a bit of truth to it. Hours ticking away until the days would grow into weeks, weeks into…Who knows how long?
"Minister Frollo sees no reason to dress up the extra chambers with ostentatious décor, especially when he doesn't venture into them himself," Lucile explained, her words sounding like some memorized explanation from the man himself. "He believes that displaying wealth so blatantly is nothing short of vanity. He says the spartan approach is more becoming."
"That explains the black robe," Esmeralda coyly remarked. She stopped and turned her attention to one of the tall windows, as though she might be able to spot him through the rows of crooked thatch roofs far below. Steering the conversation in a new direction, Esmeralda now inquired, "So, where is the old curmudgeon now anyway? Is he already back to terrorizing the common folk?" She made no effort to hide the contempt in her voice.
"Minister Frollo is out making his rounds in the city to inspect the damage."
"Fine by me," the gypsy scoffed. "I've barely seen him and I'd like to keep it that way. All this "freedom" but it feels like I can't do anything with it." Esmeralda forced herself to remain collected and not lash out at a mere servant girl. Now fidgeting with one of her gold bracelets, Esmeralda poised a question, "What would you do if you were me?"
Lucile shifted nervously and bunched her fingers at her skirt. "Unless you're working, I suppose there's not much to do," she dismally answered.
Esmeralda turned her lips down as she thought back to Frollo's words, reminding her not to disrupt his staff's work. Then again, it wasn't as though the countless books and empty rooms offered her much reprieve from the maddening boredom. For a moment she envied Quasimodo's agility to scale and climb his own stone prison, until she remembered that the holy fortress was still just that: a prison.
Sitting still was never an easy task for her, especially when surrounded by the never-ending gray walls and stifling dusty air. Dancing or working, she was accustomed to staying busy. After all, idleness was not a luxury that she was used to being afforded. "Well, maybe I can help you," Esmeralda offered, hiding her desperation for some kind of stimulation. "I mean, I have to do my fair share of chores around the Court of Miracles. Maybe you can use an extra pair of hands?"
"Oh, miss, I-I can't let you do that," Lucile nervously retorted, shaking her head. "I don't think the Minister would take very kindly to his mistress cavorting with the help."
"I am not his mistress," Esmeralda bit, skin crawling at the very word. Shaking the comment off, she explained, "We haven't done anything that would even qualify me as a "mistress". And anyway, I'm bored out of my mind so what's the harm in helping out a bit? I'm not some lady of the court; I don't see a problem with it." Lucile pondered it for a moment, still fearful of her employer's wrath. Esmeralda took note and reassured her, "I'll take the heat if he has a problem with it. Deal?"
Lucile considered it. As long as the gypsy wasn't interrupting their work… "I-I suppose there's no harm in letting you help for just a bit."
"Great! Just lead the way," Esmeralda chirped with a graceful wave of her arm. I can't believe I'm so bored I'm happy to do chores, she thought wryly. As Clopin used to say, "Can't get into any trouble if you're busy."
X
Frollo felt a tremendous weight on his shoulders: seeing his fair city reduced to smoldering ash had sickened him beyond belief. Arriving at the Palace and making a beeline for his study, a jittery young clerk waited outside and immediately put Frollo on edge. The young man approached him warily, wearing a foreboding expression. Clutching his ledger in his arms tightly, he reluctantly announced to the Minister, "Your Honor, um…you have a very important guest in your study."
Frollo rubbed at his temple, not at all thrilled to have to entertain some bureaucrat or another. "Who could possibly need my attention now?" he asked with a tired sigh. All he wanted to do was retire to his chamber and put the image of the damaged city out of his mind for the day.
"Well, sir…it's a messenger from the King, actually."
X
*A/N: Thanks for reading. R/r!