Gypsy King

This is basically Quasi's thoughts on Clopin in the first film. Simple as. I'm pretending he talked to Esme about Clopin when they were in the tower together. Just… roll with it. Hope you enjoy.

He had been so confused. Initially, the figure prancing about in bright colours and little bells had been amusing, but his continued persistence at trying to get Quasimodo more involved in the Feast of Fools despite his attempts to hide had gotten… well, a little frightening. He didn't want to be seen and called a monster, even though he was. Or at least thought he was.

Though the answer still eluded him, Quasimodo had thought Clopin (though he hadn't known his name at the time) had known who he was, what with the sly glances and conspiratorial winks. Although he didn't know how, he was almost certain the gypsy did. But when the crowd had done exactly as Frollo had said they would, he had leapt to the forefront and calmed them. The bell ringer remembered perfectly; "Ladies and gentlemen; don't panic! We asked for the ugliest face in Paris, and here he is! Quasimodo, Hunchback of Notre Dame!"

He hadn't been offended- he was ugly, a simple fact. But this time… it had been a good thing. For a little bit, at least.

That was what he had asked Esmeralda about later, when they'd both been in the bell tower. Why had Clopin led the crowd in crowning Quasimodo the King of Fools, but hadn't intervened when it had all gone wrong?

"It's not that he doesn't care. Clopin acts like a kid sometimes… well, okay, a lot of the time. But he's had a tough life. He's learned the hard way that you can't save everyone, that sometimes standing up for other people doesn't get you anywhere, that sometimes it's best to just stay out of it. He's the King of the Gypsies, and he already puts every single one of us before himself, but there's only so much he can do." Esmeralda knew him personally and Quasimodo trusted her word, though he didn't quite understand.

Later on, it had made more sense. He and Phoebus had been standing at the gallows in the Court of Miracles, Quasimodo torn between fear for himself, Phoebus, Esmeralda and confusion over Clopin. It was clear he remembered the one he'd crowned King of Fools, but had seen him only as intruder and enemy. He'd been animatedly jumping around, singing his heart out and looking like he was enjoying himself despite (or because of) the morbid topic, yet at the same time seemed almost… detached. His darker outfit made him look the part too; he was like a different person.

The abrupt clothes changes on the platform had been even more baffling, how he changed so fast and where he kept the clothes on his person being the most obvious questions; Quasimodo had been unable to focus his panicked mind until Clopin had changed into an executioner's outfit. Consequently, he had been shirtless.

Phoebus hadn't noticed; he'd been too busy willing daggers to fire from his eyes and embed themselves in the back of the Gypsy King's head. But Quasimodo had. The entirety of Clopin's back had been covered in jagged, gruesome scars. Coming from the Hunchback of Notre Dame, the word 'gruesome' carried great weight. There were several criss-cross marks across his back that looked like they had come from a whip, all of them obvious and likely had been deep. There were a few others overlaying them that seemed to have come from flayed whips, multiple scars left at the end of the whiplash by the thongs. The others all appeared to have been caused by serrated blades and… there were a few that were similar to what Quasimodo assumed a lash from a length of chain would look like.

And it had made more sense. It's all very good defying the majority of the population as long as you can get away with it, but sometimes you can't… Clopin had stood up for people once, but the price had become more than he could bear. He had learned to turn a blind eye to the sufferings of others, as he would be of no use to anyone beaten senseless, imprisoned or dead.

After Frollo's fall from the roof of Notre Dame, when that little girl had come forward and hugged him- hugged him!- he had heard Clopin's voice above them all; "Three cheers, for QUASIMODO!" And he had sung again, but this song had moved the deformed young man deeply.

"Here is a riddle to guess if you can, sing the Bells of Notre Dame…

What makes a monster and what makes a man?"

From his position above the crowd, he had turned to glance at Clopin appreciatively, truly touched, but the gypsy's attentions had been elsewhere. That same little girl had been in Clopin's arms, looking up at him trustingly. She seemed to know him, and as he sang he produced a little Frollo hand puppet and made her giggle, a tender smile adorning his face.

"Whatever their pitch you can feel them bewitch you, the rich and the ritual knells…

Of the Bells of Notre Dame!"

Yes, Quasimodo thought to himself, Clopin was alright really. And the first thing he had done once he'd gotten back to the tower was sit down and start carving another little Esmeralda figurine to replace the burned one, followed by one in the likeness of Clopin. And the next time he saw him, Quasimodo resolved that he would speak to the older man. About what, he wasn't sure… his puppets maybe, or his singing. He wanted to compliment the Gypsy King, partly because he was important to Esmeralda but also because he felt that he deserved it. He was a good man, really. People just couldn't see that.

Quasi could certainly sympathise there.

Mmm… I'm not sure I like it very much. Whatevs, tell me what you think and thanks for reading it :)