Author's Note: Yay! Another chapter! Many thanks to my friend Holbyta, beta reader and supporter, who finally convinced me to get off my lazy ass and start writing again! Please, please review her wonderful Lion King fanfiction here:

http/ this chapter, we enjoy the antics of the psychotic Clopin, a shocked Frollo, and a maniacal dictator hand puppet! Please, please, please review! Or else Clopin's Mr. Hat will hunt you. Just kidding hah hah no I'm not. On with the fic!

No soft sheets enwrapped his lean frame as he woke, no gentle cloth or pleasantry. In fact, he felt quite...cold. And damp. Certainly unusual. Had those accursed maidservants been whittling away their hours, when they were supposed to be attending to him? How dare they. They would suffer the consequences. They would -

Abrupt comprehension. Quite suddenly, he recalled where he was. What precisely had happened. He had been abducted. Remain calm...yes, it was imperative to remain calm. Important to survey his surroundings. Be prepared. Slowly, slowly, his eyes fluttered open.

Gray murkiness first greeted him, blurry and indistinct. But slowly it began to take shape. Dark patches appeared and contours began to form. What appeared to be eyes...a grimacing smile...

"Holy Maria!" The minister cried, and jerked violently away from the decaying skull that was bobbing in front of his face. Low chortling met his shock. The skull disappeared, and the unmasked face of Clopin the gypsy descended upon him, grinning almost as madly.

"Why, my dearest saint, it is such an honor to have you finally join me! I was beginning to think I might've been deprived of quite a bit of fun! After all, we have plenty of bones to play with. Don't need one more skeleton to add to the pile!" He practically giggled with glee. Dreadful. Frollo was apparently captive to this raving lunatic. And, of course, it completely intolerable. A scowl marked his angular features as he attempted to gather himself and rise.

"Ah, ah, ah!" A foot shoved him back against the callous surface of the stones beneath them. "I rather like you in this position, Frollo. Helpless beneath my feet. You rather resemble a pretty little maid about to be ravished." He leaned forward and peered closely at the minister's face. "Well...save the 'pretty' part."

"What do you wish of me, heathen?" Frollo spat, hissing in pain as the gypsy's foot began to grind against his chest. "Why do you not kill me? You will suffer for this insolence! I swear upon it!" His hands clamped down on the gypsy's ankle and attempted to wrench it from his chest.

Almost instantly, a dagger was drawn from Clopin's belt and waved mockingly in his face. "Oh, fiesty! Now, now. Needless to say, if you manage to get out of here, my friend, my men are waiting. Beyond that, an entire miniature little city of gypsies who lust for your blood. And there's more! An entire underground maze of catacombs, filled with my spies! Oh no, my dear judge, even you are my guest here, or you die."

Frollo's lip curled in a sneer, pulling back from his teeth in a somewhat feral fashion. "Damn you to Hell, filthy vermin. Even if I should not be the one to dispose of you, you can be most assured that the Devil awaits your coming with open arms. I am sure that his embrace shall scald your flesh in your nightmares."

"Oh, naughty priest!" Clopin cried, his tone likening to that of an embarrassed young girl. "You should feel fortunate! You are finally within the Court of Miracles, that secret little nest you have so craved to discover! But then," he touched a gloved finger to his lips rather thoughtfully, "you had rather hoped that it would be on your own terms, didn't you? So terribly sorry to disappoint you."

Sweeping off his hat, he granted the pinned man a curt bow. Ever-theatrical, Frollo thought in a daze. His thin lip curled in a sneer. The heathen was attempting to intimidate him. Be practical, he told himself. You must abide by the gypsy's rules for now, but his righteous vengeance shall come. Frollo knew that he had survived the war all these long years through the divinity of his Lord. His Master would not fail him this time around. He said nothing.