Or Else Let Her Be Mine And Mine Alone

Sweet Cravings

Life changes drastically sometimes. So do people. Sometimes, you lose what you thought was the purpose of your life. Such circumstances can befuddle a person. But ultimately, life goes on. Work had to restart.

Marie was combing Esmeralda's hair. The cultural norms demanded married women to cover their hair with a veil at all times. Tresses were a mark of sexuality, as well as their societal status. Therefore, loose hair was a sign of loose morals.

Esmeralda wasn't married, per say, but she was taken. And after all that happened, it was probably the best to do everything in her hands to prevent unfavorable scrutiny. But it was the brink of August, and Paris was turning into an oven. The Romani dresses she used to wear were light and flowy, baring her shoulders. Here she had to dress in three layers, and to wear a headdress to? No, she would prefer to keep her hair like it was. The people hated her anyway.

But she was still a Romani at heart. She missed living how she used to; coming up with new tricks for her goat, bantering with Clopin, gossiping with others at dinner. She missed her friends, her tambourine, her songs and dancing. Oh, if only she could dance without care! Or sing in a lovely dialect she didn't understand.

Her only encounters of noblewomen had been at the windows of their mansions, equal amounts of them adoring and cursing her. It seemed like they had no shortage of time.

'Marie, what do upper-class women do in the day?'

'Usually they play games, go to church or meet other ladies.'

She didn't exactly have allies in those ladies that Marie was talking about. Nor was she interested in religious proceedings.

'Oh, and they also purchase.'

'Purchase what?'

'Clothes and jewellery, mainly. Mouthfuls too, particularly sweets.'

Sweets seemed like a good idea.

'Can't we purchase too? We can even look at some houses.'

'I'm sure we can, madame. But this morning, sir instructed us to not take you anywhere without asking him.'

The girl rolled her eyes. 'Where is he?'

--

King Louis the Eleventh was content; far too content. The monarch was over the moon from receiving good news the whole week, and he had requested an audience with the Minister of Justice to share them.

'You must be elated, are you not?' he asked. 'After twenty years, you have achieved what you wanted to.'

"I have achieved much more than you think, Louis" the minister thought.

'Definitely, your grace. The Lord has been particularly bounteous from the past few days.'

'It is probably even truer for you. I heard that you have taken up a paramour?'

The judge tapped the armrest of his chair. 'She had to live here owing to the agreement anyway. She agreed to mend her ways and take up the holy path. Now, instead of locking her up for the rest of her life, I thought it better to- '

The King interrupted with a chuckle. 'I assure you, Claude, I do not care what you do with the gypsy girl.'

He looked askance. 'You don't?'

'Why would I? I have far more important issues to heed to than you having a love doll. I was just a little surprised, that's all. You see, you're not the kind of man one expects to be interested in such things.'

Frollo shifted his eyes uncomfortably.

'Do not be so hard on yourself, Claude. All men have passions,' he tried to fight a giggle looking at Frollo's expression.