Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunchback of Notre Dame or anything to do with it. I hope Disney doesn't sue. I do own Persephone Martian and her family and William Par. I also own the members of Clopin's family. The title comes from the deleted song from The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
NOTE: This story takes place a day before the events of the film and goes beyond the ending. I have never seen The Hunchback of Notre Dame II, so this has no information from it.
The lead characters of this story are Clopin Trouillefou and Persephone Martin. I have seen quite a few Clopin fan fictions, but none of them ever seem to get finished. This one will.
This is a story based on the Disney version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, not Victor Hugo's novel. It also may have some items or phrases that are not from the time period. After all, it's based on Disney!
It was a beautiful day in the heart of Paris, 1482. A light breeze was the only indication that it was the beginning of January, though people still complained about the weather.
The citizens of Paris were littered through the small streets of Paris were gossiping frantically, bargaining for fruits and vegetables, and debating about politics.
The chorus of cheerful, polite voices was slightly marred by the deafening high-pitched sound of a child's wails of protest.
Clopin Trouillefou sighed as yet another parent dragged their crying child away from his covered wagon. It happened at least once a week. A parent dragged their poor child away, claiming that a gypsy, such as Clopin himself, lived to ensnare their minds and turn them to witchcraft.
People like that really were really beginning to get on Clopin's nerves.
"Umm…" A small voice piped up from Clopin's attentive audience, made up of various children. Some rich, some poor and some gypsy but to children it didn't matter.
Some times children were smarter than adults gave them credit for. Some times not knowing the ways of the world was a good thing. Or do children understand the world better than adults?
He threw on a fake smile for the rest of the children sitting quietly. "Oui, mon petite enfant?" He asked the small blonde, who was no more than six.
"What happened to Cinderella?" She asked quickly, as if it were a bad thing to say. Clopin's smile turned genuine as he looked at the genuine interest on the children's faces. Even though their favourite story had ended, the one of the boy in the bell tower, they were still entranced by the old fairy tale.
"Did one of the ugly sisters marry the Prince? Did they really cut their toes off to make their feet fit?" A boy in a crisp blue suit asked as a few other children made sounds of disgust.
"What about the slipper made of glass?" A young gypsy piped up.
Clopin reached behind his shoulder and pulled out a small puppet made in the likeness of him. "What about the evil stepmother?" The puppet asked in a squeaky falsetto. The children around him giggled with delight at the sight of their favourite prop.
"Hush, boy!" Clopin scolded, shaking his finger at the puppet. "We will get to that in due time! Now, Cinderella was shut away in the house, far from the prince and his helper.
"Cinderella sobbed," (at this point the small puppet covered it's small, beady black eyes and started to sob.) "For the one she loved would never find her." Clopin carried on the twisted tale with much enthusiasm, lowering his voice when the story was sad and raising it at the joyous parts.
In a way the parents were right. The children always hung on his every word. They elated at every new development to the story. They laughed at the funny parts, whimpered or cried at the sad parts and gasped when things got scary or exciting. This was perhaps why parents saw him as a cheap babysitter. Not that he minded, just as long as he wasn't a free babysitter.
"Just close to it," he muttered to himself as he picked up the gold coins abandoned by the children's caregivers on the cobblestone street before the children were dragged off at the end of his riveting version of Cinderella.
At least his own people, the gypsies, when collecting their children were thoughtful enough to hand him his pay personally, promising to see him later. Although, it may have been the level of respect they had for him, he was their king after all.
He stuffed the coins into his change purse and walked down a small, crooked side street. This was the problem with Paris. Too many dark and small streets, back alleys where people could easily be mugged. Then his people were blamed for the crimes of the others.
Clopin continued to ponder the streets of France until a small, brown thing ran into his chest causing him to fall backwards. His hat fell over his masked face. "Either that was the biggest cat ever, or some one ran into me." He muttered to himself. He peeked one eye out from under his hat.
He came face to face with a mousy haired girl. Her brown eyes were wide as she looked at him. Clopin allowed his eyes to wonder her face; she was a rather pretty girl, at least form what he could see. She was glancing wildly around the street while still attempting to balance on his lap. "Ah, well, it would appear to be the latter unless I have stumbled across a new breed."
"Shut up!" She instructed him harshly as she clamped a hand over his mouth. "I am trying to listen!" From her accent, Clopin could tell that the girl was from England. Many English tourists began to flock towards France after the end of Christmas, just in time for Topsy Turvy Day.
Clopin shrugged and opened his own ears. He heard the clip clopping of a horse's hooves on the cobblestone, and the clanking of horses and metal before the loud clunk of someone jumping off their horse.
"I want her found! Do you understand me?" A man's voice boomed. "If she isn't found by sun down, there will be hell to pay. Am I understood?"
The girl winced before dragging Clopin to his feet. She was much shorter than him, by half a foot if not more. "I need your help," she said softly and quickly as she pulled her hand off his mouth. "I am willing to pay for it." She said looking over him and taking in his gypsy clothing.
"Pay for it, you say? What would it require me to do?" Clopin asked, a little wary of this stranger. But, hey, if the parents weren't going to pay him, and if the guarded traveler would, he wouldn't turn her down.
"Take me to a pub of some sort. And quickly please, if you would be so kind!" She said briskly as she began bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.
Clopin inclined his head and swept off his hat. "But of course! It would be my pleasure." He turned around and began walking in the direction from which he came with her by his side.
The duo were almost at the end of the crooked street before the girl gasped and jumped backwards, pushing Clopin into the street.
Clopin looked behind him to the girl who was now hidden by the shadows. He looked ahead and almost jumped backwards as he came to the brown face a horse.
"Excuse me, sir." A man said with the same crisp English accent as the girl slid off the horse and walked towards Clopin. "I was wondering if you could assist me?"
"It depends," Clopin said as he placed his hat back on his head. "What would it entail?" He inquired with a tilt of his head.
"I was wondering if you have seen a girl?"
"Ah, Monsieur, I have seen many girls. You will need to be more specific."
"She has sort of, er, lightish-brownish hair and she is rather short, shorter than you anyway." At Clopin's raised eyebrow he hurried to add, "she is from England as well. I think she was wearing green… or yellow."
Clopin smirked and pretended to look off in thought. "Hmm… brownish hair, you say. Well, allow me to converse with my council." In the blink of an eye the small puppet was back on his hand. "I think she went that way." Clopin said pointing down the east end of the street.
"No," he responded using the falsetto voice of the puppet. "She went that way!" He said pointing his little gloved hand to the west.
"Are you sure?" He asked his hand. "Because I am sure I have seen a short girl with brown hair walk in the way I suggest."
"Please!" The puppet exclaimed. "Who has brown hair?" The puppet turned to look at the large horse and coughed into his tiny hand. "Awkward."
The man had obviously had enough of Clopin's antics. "Fine. I should have known better than to get help from a gypsy." He spat before mounting his horse and trotting in the direction that the puppet had pointed.
"Thank you so much," the girl said as she came out from the shadows. "I don't even know how to repay you." She shook her head and looked up at him.
"You can begin by telling me why you're so afraid of horses." Clopin quipped. "And then paying me a ridiculous fee for my services."
"I will," she promised before glancing down the street. "But not here. I can't be seen, do you understand?"
"I can speak perfect English, chérie. Français aussi." He began walking in the opposite direction that the horse had gone and beckoned the girl to follow him.
"Perfect, because I can barley say 'bonjour'," she muttered softly as she trailed him.
Clopin followed his normal route until he stopped outside of a rather unsavory, rundown, disreputable looking bar.
"You want to go there?" She asked him in a snooty tone as she looked at the stained brick and tarnished brass ("probably fake") that donned the bar. She crossed her arms and turned to Clopin. "You know what this is, love? This is a dive. Now I have to ask, do I look like the type of girl who drink in dives?" She asked him as she stuck her nose in the air.
Clopin looked over the girl. It was true that she did not seem the type to go into a "dive". Her mousy hair was sleek and stylish; there wasn't a tress out of place. Her light green dress was freshly pressed and made of an expensive looking material and a rather large shoulder bag was hanging limply at her side. Her hands that were tangled in front of her had the un-worked, smooth look of the rich. Her soft pink lips were curled into a sneer of disgust as she looked over the rotting wood of the doorframe.
"This would be the last spot the man would look for you, non?" Clopin reasoned. He really needed a drink and this girl was not going to stop him. At her silence, he pushed her into the bar and steered her towards an empty table.
The interior of the bar did not look a thing like the outside. Brightly coloured fabric was used everywhere. Light scarves were used as drapery and there were bits of confetti scattered on every surface. A man with a fiddle was standing at the head of the bar was playing highly upbeat music.
She looked down at the gypsy man who was already looking quite comfortable as he flopped down onto a chair. He motioned her to sit down and gave her a large smile reviling a gap in the side of his mouth.
"Now tell me, chérie, why are you on the run?" Clopin asked as he motioned for the barkeep to come to the table. "Would you like something to drink?" He asked her when Jacques Blaise reached their table. Jacques' bar, The Sneaky Nickel, was one of the only bars on this side of Paris who allowed gypsies in the general vicinity, and certainly the best. He and his younger sister Angelique inherited it after the death of their grandfather.
"Anything strong," she said as she took off her cloak. "Alcohol is preferable." She said as she took out a cloth hanky and began cleaning the table.
Clopin gave Jacques a wolfish grin and requested two ales before he turned his attentions to the girl. "Well, let us not drink as strangers. What is your name?"
"What's yours?" She bit back as she glared suspiciously at him.
Clopin tilted his head to the side. "My name is Clopin Trouillefou." He offered with a wave of his hand.
"And you're a gypsy?" She asked him as she looked over his eccentric clothing.
"Yes," Clopin said as his eyes narrowed. "I am a gypsy. Do you have a problem with that?"
She shrugged. "Not particularly, I merely heard of them from my friend who went to London a while back. I've never met one. I never understood why people don't like gypsies." She paused for a moment and took a look around the room. "My name is Persephone Martin." She told him with a look of apprehension.
"Persephone?" Clopin said as he raised an eyebrow and accepted the drink Jacques offered him.
"Shut up," Persephone snapped at him for the second time that day. "My parents are pretentious. Unfortunately we don't name ourselves." She wrapped her handkerchief around the handle of the ale mug took a sip of her beer looked at him from over the mug. "So when are we going to play twenty questions?"
"Ah, Persephone," Clopin purred as he smiled at her. "I believe we have already begun. Although, for the time being, I am afraid I only have two. Who were you running from and why?"
Persephone took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. "The man I was running from was my fiancée." She said slowly. "And I was running because he's my fiancée."
Clopin blinked for a moment. "I have never met someone who ran away from their fiancée. I wouldn't mind a bit of elaboration." He prodded her lightly.
"Do I not get to ask questions as well?" She asked him.
"How about when you help me, then I'll answer your questions." Clopin said with narrow eyes.
She glared at him. "I do not want to marry him because it is an arranged marriage. It's not like I love him so I am running to Greece." She said with a sniff as she crossed her arms.
"Ah, Greece. A very beautiful country, at least the last time I was there." Clopin reflected. "How were you hoping to reach Greece?"
"I… er- I didn't think that far ahead yet." She admitted as she ducked her head and looked down at her ale. "This was merely my only chance to get off of the island known as England. I didn't want to waste my own money on a boat."
"May I enquire as to how much money you have?" He asked her.
Persephone looked at him and then untied her change purse from her cloak. "Around fifty Pounds." She said as she calculated the numbers in her head. "Forty-eight after I pay you." She added with a shrug.
Clopin winced. "Yes, well, I suppose that's business, isn't it?" He said, feeling slightly guilty for taking the poor girls money.
"I suppose. I know my father won't pay for me fleeing the country, will he?" She asked, not really expecting an answer. She smiled at him weakly over the table and drank some more of her ale.
"Is your father rich?" Clopin asked.
"He's not… well, I suppose we're rather wealthy. I've never had a job or had to worry about money. Until now, I suppose." She said as she looked off in thought. "I don't even have a place to stay." She groaned. It was clear to Clopin that she had stopped talking to him and was now assessing her situation.
Clopin smiled at the girl and pulled out his puppet. "Well, puppet, what do you think? How can we help the girl?"
"A donation?" Suggested the Puppet with spread arms.
"I am but a poor story-teller and you are attached to my hand." Clopin pointed out.
"Um… collection plate?"
"Ah, but then one Claude Frollo will assume we stole it. I am afraid, dear boy, that we are already on his bad side." Clopin responded. "Let me think…."
"What about a-"
Clopin cut the poor puppet off with a short hit to the head.
"Allow me to think." He looked over at Persephone who was staring at him as if he were mad. It was a look that Clopin was accustomed to.
He leaned back in his chair and looked at his puppet. "The girl needs a place to stay while she gets enough money to get the Greece (because fifty pounds is not nearly enough), but she can't afford a hotel."
"I know! She can stay in the Court-" The puppet squeaked and rose it's arms in the air.
"Hush." Clopin scolded. "Notre Dame?"
"No, what about us-"
"Silence!" Clopin demanded harshly. "I know! She can stay with us!" Clopin said with a flourish and smile, turning to face Persephone.
Persephone considered her options. On one hand, William would never be able to find her if she was with a gypsy. On the other hand, this Clopin Trouillefou seemed to be a few shillings short of a pound sterling. Nevertheless it seemed she didn't have many options left. She was almost broke. Forty-eight pounds would never get her to Greece.
"Thank you for the offer Mister Trouillefou. I think I may have to take you up on it." She said with a forced smile. "As I appear to be in short supply of options."
"C'est magnifique!" Clopin exclaimed as he downed the rest of his ale and threw some money on the table. He stood up and began to walk out of the pub, motioned for her to follow him. He held a door open for her and bowed as she walked past him. The two walked past the Cathedral of Notre Dame as the bells began to ring.
Persephone clamped her hands over her ears and looked up at the cathedral. Her jaw dropped and she lowered her hands. "It's so beautiful!" She exclaimed. "What is it?" She asked him, not taking her eyes off of the grand cathedral.
"It's Notre Dame." Clopin said, finding it hard to believe that someone had never heard of the famous place of worship. "Don't they have anything like Notre Dame in England?" Clopin asked as he continued to walk.
"Er- not where I'm from." Persephone said with a shrug. "I've lived in Portsmouth for my entire life. It's not exactly the biggest city in all of England."
Clopin nodded, not really knowing what to say. He and his family had traveled all around Europe as well as parts of Asia and he always saw awe-inspiring architecture. It wasn't really a big shock for him when he first saw Notre Dame. Of course, it was a beautiful building, but he had seen taller towers and more striking landmarks.
The two walked in silence over the bridge and past the river. Clopin led the girl past the gates of a cemetery and came to a stop in front of a tomb. He turned to face her and sighed as he saw the look of disgust on her face. "Whatever is wrong, chérie?" He asked her as he crossed his arms. "There are no ghosts or vampires if that's what worries you."
"You're going to kill me aren't you?" She asked him as she took a step back. Fear was shining in her brown eyes as she looked up at him.
"What?" Clopin asked her; shocked she would think such a thing. He was about to put himself on the line for her and she thought he was about to kill her.
"There's only one reason why strange men lure innocent women to the cemetery and that's to kill them." She told him in an almost conversational tone.
"One, I hardly lured you here, you came on your own free will." Clopin informed her, ticking off one of his gloved fingers. "Two, you don't really seem all that innocent."
"Excuse me?" Persephone exclaimed, obviously offended. "What do you know about my innocence?"
"Innocent girls don't drink ale in 'dives' with strange men they ran into in dark alleys." He told her. "Persephone, you may be a spoiled brat, but I am not going to kill you." He spun on his heel and pulled the cover off of a tomb. "Ladies first."
Persephone stepped back again. "If you think I'm going to crawl into a crypt, you must be madder than I thought!" She told him as she held both hands in the air.
Clopin sighed. This girl was beginning to be more trouble than she was worth. If only his mother hadn't raised him to help people. If only his mother hadn't told him off that morning for never helping people. "If you would look," he said as he dragged her forward. "You would see the stairs."
Persephone's cheeks flushed in both anger and embarrassment. "I am terribly sorry. In England tombs hold dead people." She informed him sardonically before wrinkling her nose, picking up the hem of her skirt and walking down the stairs.
Once they reached the bottom of the steps, Persephone stopped, causing Clopin to almost run into her, and turned on her heel. "No way am I walking through a sewer!" She exclaimed as she tightened her hands around the hem of her skirt.
"You don't have a choice at this point." He gritted his teeth and began walking through the water. This girl was really starting to get on his last nerve.
Persephone watched him walk away and with a sigh she pulled her dress up higher and began following him. She began to walk faster to catch up with him. "Don't exactly live the life of luxury, eh?" She asked.
Clopin turned to her and shrugged. "You have no idea," he responded as they reached dry land. He turned to look at Persephone, whose dress was still scrunched up around her thighs. "You know, you have great legs for someone who sits around all day."
Persephone rushed to fix her skirt and looked up at the cavern. Her eyes widened as she took in her surroundings. People dressed in vibrant clothes were talking and laughing with each other as children dressed in the same manner played and ran around. There were bright decorations everywhere and nobody seemed upset or unkempt.
"You live here?" She asked him as she took a step forward. "It's so… remarkable!" She raved as she began to take a close inspection of the room.
"Well, it's not the life of luxury," he responded. "But it is home." Clopin began walking through the people, smiling and trading greetings. "We always have extra beds set up," he informed her. "For the more nomadic people." He added before stopping at a covered wagon. "You can stay here until you figure out what you're going to do."
"Thank you, you are very kind." Persephone said distractedly as she walked into the wagon. It was decorated in various shades of purple with gold trim. The small bed had a silky comforter with gold coloured tassels hanging off the edges. The paint was a little chipped near the ceiling, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. "It's very lovely." She said as she turned to face him.
"I'm glad you think so," Clopin said nod of his head. "If you need anything you may come and find me."
"Thank you," Persephone repeated. Clopin inclined his head and turned to leave. Persephone took a step forward and caught his hand. He turned to face her and tilted his head towards her. "Really," she said sincerely. "Thank you."
"It isn't a problem, chérie." Clopin replied as he withdrew his hand from hers. "It's rare, but sometimes I do have a heart." With that, he bowed and swept out of the wagon, closing the door behind him.
"Clopin!" A female voice yelled from behind him. He turned around and his face broke into a smile as he saw the dark haired beauty.
"Esme!" He said as he walked towards her. "How are you?" He asked her.
"Is it true what they are saying, Clopin?" Esmeralda asked him with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. "Is it true that you brought a girl down here? One that isn't one of us?"
Clopin tried to give her a smile and failed. "Well, sort of…" He trailed off.
"Either you did or you didn't," Esmeralda snapped.
"I did, but she's harmless." Clopin said as he waved a hand and began to walk. "She's trying to go on the run, but she's broke."
"And?" Esmeralda questioned. "It's not like you need a lot of money to get out of here."
Clopin shook his head. "She expects to get to Greece on fifty pounds, or something. She's just a spoilt girl who doesn't know the value of gold." Clopin informed her as he slipped an apple off a nearby cart and took a bite. "Trust me, Esme. She can't hurt us."
"This is all part of your need to save people, to be some kind of hero. You can never help yourself, can you?" Esmeralda uncrossed her arms and sighed. "I don't like this Clopin, she could be dangerous."
Clopin let out a sharp laugh. "Ah, Esme, you worry far to much. She's never even met a gypsy before. She doesn't see why people dislike us. She's also from England, so who could she turn us in to? She doesn't know anyone."
"She could tell Frollo." Esmeralda pointed out. "And then it's all over, we'll have to flee."
"Do you have your dance all set for the festival?" Clopin asked as he gave her a look that conveyed he really didn't want to talk about it any longer.
"Of course I do, Clopin! The festival is tomorrow." Esmeralda exclaimed as she threw her hands in the air, seeming insulted in his lack of confidence.
Clopin nodded absentmindedly before walking away from Esmeralda. Esmeralda made a sound of protest. Once Clopin got an idea in his head it was almost impossible to try and convince him otherwise. She sighed and dropped the subject, for now anyway, and ran to catch up to him.
And that would be chapter one! I hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to review!
Catherine