Psychobabble all Upon Your Lips

Psychobabble all Upon Your Lips

Frollo waved the torch in front of her, the flames so close a few sparks floated in the air, singing the ends of her hair. Esmeralda wrinkled her nose at the awful smell. She was bound to the pyre, trying valiantly to push down terror that caused every one of her hairs to stand on ends.

“Choose me…” Frollo leaned forward, the light casting shadows across his face. He looked like a demon, ready to drag her down to hell. “Or the fire!”

His voice dropped an octave, so that the next words wouldn’t reach the horde watching them.

“Choose the path of salvation, marry me, or you will all burn.”

Oh, how tempting it would be to spit in his face. To wipe away that hateful, arrogant smile. But despite all the terrible things that Frollo and his ilk said about her people, she was smart, honorable, and had a good heart. This wasn’t just about her. She had to consider everyone.

“I...I…” she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Yes?” came the silky reply. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

Her head hung in defeat before the words left her mouth. “I choose you.” And my people.

A soft chuckle. “I knew that you would eventually see the light, my dear. I’m certain you will be redeemed with some...direction.” The last word spoken with smug satisfaction dripping from each syllable.

Direction. Esmeralda would have laughed if her throat wasn’t suddenly so dry, her diaphragm frozen with fear. She knew exactly the kind of ‘direction’ he wanted to give her.

“How generous of you,” she whispered, glaring at him with all the bitterness and anger she felt in her heart. That only made him laugh harder.

He turned to the crowd, taking the warmth with him, and Esmeralda shivered. She could hear her bones rattling. His shadow stretched out behind him, casting her in its net.

“This witch has chosen to repent and devote herself, soul, mind, and body,” the last word was stressed with a sneer, “to atonement. And God is ever merciful.” Esmeralda glared at the back of his ridiculous cap. What did his God have to do with his persecution of her and her people, let alone his disgusting demand? He dropped the torch to the muddy earth, and she felt somewhat eased as the patter of raindrops caused the flames to fizzle out.

There were both cries of celebration for a sinner redeemed, and jeers from those who had wanted to watch her burn. Frollo gestured to her and told the guards, “untie her and take her to...my chambers. For safekeeping. Lock the doors so she doesn’t escape.” He glared back at her as if expecting her to defy him, despite the fact that she was still tied to a stake and could barely move.

Esmeralda wanted to yell at him, scream about the injustice of it all. Instead, she felt the burn of tears collecting behind her eyes, and looked away, feeling defeated. What kind of decision had she made? Death would probably have been the better option. But watching her people set free, ropes cut and cages unlocked, the joyful spark in their eyes, she wanted to believe that accepting Frollo’s offer was worth it.

Was it?

***

“Ah, I see you’ve made yourself comfortable,” he said with a malicious smirk.

“I...didn’t really have a choice,’ Esmeralda replied sullenly. An ornate knot that she was unable to undo with her fingers or teeth-- at least, not in the time it took for Frollo to come up to his chambers-bound her wrists together, connected to a rope about a foot long tethered to the bedpost. She had initially stood in defiance, but in the dark room time seemed to slow down, and she eventually collapsed to the bed. She was so exhausted. Her mind drifted back to the pyre over and over again, with the grim knowledge that she would be dead now if she hadn’t agreed with Frollo’s...request.

“Why did you do this?” Esmeralda shook her head as Frollo stalked closer. “You’ve called me a sorceress, heathen, witch. Why not pick another woman who actually wants to marry you? You...you tried to bribe my own people against me…” Her eyes slid shut, a pain blossoming behind them as she remembered how he tried to ply them with coin in exchange for her whereabouts.

His hand crept to the back of her neck, deceptively gentle at first, before locking her in a firm grip. Again, that sinister smile. He knows he won, an unhelpful voice explained, causing her stomach to turn.

“Come now, my dear. I understand that you can’t help what you are. Heathen, twisting the thoughts of pious men, casting sorcery to entrap them to your will.” Esmeralda wrinkled her nose as his fingers trailed through her hair. Frollo’s gaze fixed on the strands as if they were fascinating. “Only a devout, Christian path can save you.”

“And what does devotion have to do with this?!” She held up her bound wrists.

Frollo waived his hand dismissively. “To protect myself. In the beginning, at least. I’m sure you’ll eventually come around.”

“And...what if I never do?”

Frollo smiled again, his expression darkening. “Then I suppose I’ll have to enforce some discipline in our marriage. This is a sacred union, after all, and you will promise to obey me.” His eyes flitted over her form.

Her fingers curled around the rope that bound her hands, in anger and anxiety in equal measure. He chuckled, throaty and low, and tugged the rope connecting to the footboard until she was on her feet before him.

“I’ve been waiting for this for far too long,” he whispered. Esmeralda frowned, her stomach twisting into uncomfortable knots. He had talked so much about destroying the gypsies and smiting her that she had no idea how long he had been supposedly waiting for ‘this’. He stroked her cheek, his voice filled with awe and triumph. “You are absolutely exquisite, my gypsy witch. More beautiful than any mortal girl who walks the Earth. And I finally have you.” Then, he kissed her.

She froze, in enough shock that she didn’t resist when he tangled her fingers with his own. His lips were firm and rigid, like the rest of him. Still, as his lips moved, he moaned into the kiss, obviously savoring it. An uncomfortable warmth spread through her, jolting into a spark when he tugged her waist so that she was pressed against his chest. The pleasure she felt both surprised and then disgusted her more than his contact, and shoved him away with her bound hands.

Frollo blinked in surprise, then scowled. “Remember your promise, gypsy,” he hissed, pulling her to him again in a vice-like grip. “I have no qualms about sacrificing you and those other vermin. You will not resist me again.”

“I...well…” Her bare feet shifted from left to right on the stone floor. “We need to marry first, don’t we? So that we don’t sin.”

Frollo hesitated, his frown smoothing away, and Esmeralda almost let out a sigh of relief as his grip on her loosened. He shook his head, however, and her breath hitched as he placed his palm on her low back and shoved their lower bodies together. A hardness pressed into her belly, and she fought back a blush.

“A formality,” he said decisively. “We are already bound together in spirit. The archdeacon can marry us tomorrow.”

“But, what about…” she felt desperate. The realization of what was about to happen made the shadows in the room seem to grow, overtaking her free spirit, like ink spreading over pure white parchment.

“No need to resist anymore, my dear.” He gave her a lascivious smile, crowding her so that she sank to the bed, and he soon followed, sitting hip to hip.

Esmeralda cringed, feelings of disgust churning with despair as he leaned closer, hooded eyes sweeping over her body. One hand curled around her waist and the other knotted into her hair at the base of her skull. The angle was awkward, as she was still bound to the footboard, but he was pulling her in the other direction.

“Eventually, you’re going to need to let me go,” she told him, doing her best to avoid eye contact. There was something in his gaze that went beyond simple lust. She knew she was attractive and had been on the receiving end of countless sleazy looks, and she also understood that the Judge wanted her body. But there was a fervor there, something ablaze in his eyes that gave her the unnerving fear that she might disintegrate if she got too close. It reminded her of the most desperately starved gypsies who first stumble upon the Court of Miracles, finally offered a bit of bread or soup after days or weeks of nothing. Or those zealous worshippers who fall to their knees in rapture over their God. Starved, consumed, passionate and obsessed. As if slaking his need with her body would never be enough.

Frollo chuckled lowly, as if he were humoring a child, and Esmeralda bristled. “Whatever for? I know how your kind think.”

She tugged at her binding and gritted her teeth, ignoring the way his fingers explored her form.

“Funny, I didn’t realize you believed we thought much at all.”

He pulled her sharply to his chest, and Esmeralda yelped. The angle was even more uncomfortable; his body burning her skin while her arms stretched out to the left. His lips moved close to her ear. “Oh, I believe you are quite clever and cunning. Rest assured that if anything were to happen to me, some of your precious gypsy friends will meet a most unfortunate end. Understood?”

...