b As much as I wish I did, I don't own any of the Disney characters. /b

Chapter One: His Nose

p I ran. And ran.

p Then stopped abruptly, covering my face as much as possible, and shivering in sweat.

p "Meg?"

p I busted out in warm tears as my face went beat red and my stomach threatened to give in.

p "Meg? Are you alright?" I heard the voice again. My father.

p I loved him. Deeply.

He wasn't really my father. He was my stepfather. But there wasn't really a step between us- we were on the same level. Besides, he was more of a dad to me then my genetic one.

p Anyways, my dad had caught up with me beside the baker's shop. I let him wrap me in a tight hug.

p "I didn't know you'd be this upset. I should have listened and left when you asked too," he apologized. I mumbled gibberish. I didn't have anything to say really.

p I was running from the gallows. A horrible place, if you ask me. Some man was just hung for who knows what.

p All I really remember was his face- bright red and scared out of his wits, glancing every two seconds at the rope around his thick neck as if unsure of why it was there.

p Then how he fell, and his face went even redder, then purple and was slowly fading into this pale cream when I turned and ran.

p I hate death.

p Hate it with all my heart. And it still makes me want to throw up when I think about how he must've have felt standing there, just waiting for them to pull the lever. Or as his family and loved ones felt, waiting to watch him die.

p My dad half-carried me to the inn. We were traveling merchants.

p One of the best lives, if you like to travel. Not so good if you like commitments. But I was only 16, what commitment could I really have? I didn't really want to marry.

p Well, I take that back. I wanted to, desperately! And, oh, how I daydreamed about it all the time! But the only man I met in my age range that had caught my attention was two years away. Two years! And still his thought was enough to make me squirm with giddy thoughts.

p I was 16, remember!

p At the inn, I collapsed on my temporary bed. Mom was in the room next to me, scolding my sister, Vanessa, who had, from what I heard of the fight, almost bought beer at the tavern. As good-natured young women, it was forbidden to drink. I think it should be our decision, but I just learn to deal with things. Vanessa rebels against them. I was the good child, basically.

When mom was finished, Vanessa stormed back into our room, plopping down on her bed, which was beside mine.

p "The rules of our lives take away our lives," she muttered.

p "I agree," I whispered, closing my eyes.

p "I think I'll run away!"

p I scoffed at her.

p "Really, I do! Lets go find someone! It'll be fun!" she urged me, sitting up and letting excitement glimmer in her little eyes.

p "I'm not running away, but I guess I wouldn't mind a date..." I replied, propping myself up on my elbows, "But if mom and dad ask where you are, I won't lie or tell less than I know"

p "That's what you always say!"

p "Do I not uphold it?"

p "Well, you don't always tell them everything, and you know it!" she joked, standing up and searching through her bags. I laughed. She was right. I didn't want to get my sister into that much trouble.

p Vanessa forced me to change into what she thought suitable for picking up guys. I didn't like it, but whatever. I'd let her have her fun. Honestly, I doubted we'd pick up a guy. She wasn't the most attractive person, though she was very outgoing. I was ok on looks, and I wasn't a hermit or anything, but it usually took my sisters presence to get boys to talk to me.

p Mother always said it was because I was so beautiful they were intimidated. If I only had a coin for every time I heard that one. Besides, she told the same thing to Vanessa, which was a total lie. The only reason guys were intimidated by her was because she was so peppy and unafraid on everything.

p Anyway, I ended up wearing a royal blue dress that hung to a little below my knees, with a stomacher that laced up the front around my stomach, and had a lighter blue fabric that hung around the bottom. The blue was to bring out my eyes. I, personally, despised the color blue.

p Red was my favorite color. Not because I was daring, or brave, but because it was the color a daring and brave person would like.

p I've always wanted to be like that, and take part in my own adventures.

p So, telling our ignorant parents we were simply going out to explore the Parisian town, we headed out of the inn. Vanessa led me behind her, as if I was on a leash. I didn't mind. I wanted to see what she could do, anyway.

p After walking around aimlessly for a while, me pointing out who I thought was cute and Vanessa tsking and wrinkling her nose, we almost gave up.

p "There's not one decent looking man in this whole town!" she grumbled. I bit my lip and looked around.

p I spotted something colorful. Very colorful. A man in a purple mask was packing up what seemed to be a very bright stand. His hair was either black, or that brown easily mistaken for black and hung straight right above his shoulders. He wore a purple hat with a yellow feather. He had a goatee. He looked so weird, but handsome in that kinda ugly way.

p I bit my lip. Why not?

p "How about him?" I asked, pointing to the man, obviously a jester.

p Vanessa grimaced. "Its just like you to pick out the oldest men around! Meg, if you have to be attracted to ugly people, at least stick to men your own age!"

p "They're not that ugly! Just because he might be fat, or too skinny," I nodded towards the goatee man, "or have an humongous nose doesn't mean that they aren't attractive in their own special way!"

p She rolled her eyes at me. "That's so typical of you. Defending the ugly. If you had that crow nose you'd never come outside again!"

p "Yes I would!" I argued, knowing inside me that if

I did have the goatee man's nose I'd be so insecure it wouldn't have been funny. I probably wouldn't go outside, in fact.

p But that's just me. Goatee man seamed perfectly fine with his nose, just like I grew to be perfectly fine with my little clef chin.

p "Meg!" Vanessa whispered suddenly. "Look!"

p I took my eyes of Goatee man, and turned to see a group of students. They were indeed attractive as well.

p "I wish I could talk to them!" Vanessa whispered, longing in her voice. They were much richer than us. And, as I said before, Vanessa was no Bella diva.

p I rolled my eyes. Everyone of the students had their primmer, little button noses up in the air. I wanted to stuff them up their butts.

p But that's beside the point.

p Vanessa strolled over to a little bridge and sat on the edge. I followed.

p "Oh, Meg, Meg. Whatever are we to do now? This town has robbed us of our deepest pleasure!" Vanessa complained.

p "Oh, what else but hang ourselves! Or drown!" I remarked sarcastically, though it reminded me of my earlier encounter and I fought not to gag.

p "Meg! I'm not in the mood for your silliness!"

p "But its who I am, dear sister."

p It was silent for a minute.

p "Have you ever cried in front of a boy?" she asked.

p I almost gagged again. "Maybe."

p "Spill."

p "Well," I paused. This story was horrid. "One time I did. It was with that Chester Brimmings. I was crying because my cat had died. Chester said: 'Aww, its alright! It was going to die someday, so why not today anyway?' I blubbered for hours while he went around covering his boy parts with his hands because his silly friends were trying to kick him there."

p Vanessa busted out with laughter. "Oh my, my!"

p A gypsy group passed us, all holding different instruments. They were men in maybe their twenties. They were gypsies, like the goatee man, but they were handsome and clean shaven.

p My sister gave me her devilish smile.

p "Gentlemen! Might you spare one last song for our entertainment?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

p The four men snapped around, eyeing us carefully. One of them blushed and replied, "Why, of coarse! We are in no hurry, right?"

p The all whipped out the instruments and played a beautiful song. It was slow but booming, like the sun when it rises.

p Both me and Vanessa got coins from our purses, handing it to them when they were threw.

p "Oh, you don't have to!" the one who blushed said, but when he was elbowed by the oldest in the group he looked down and shut up, stuffing the gold into a little bag.

p "Are you girls new here?" asked one who was extra brawny, wit muscles bulging from his short sleeved shirt.

p "Our father is a traveling merchant." I answered, my innocent and young voice taking them all aback.

p "How old are you?" asked the oldest.

p "She is sixteen, I am eighteen sir." Vanessa blinked at the blushing one, obviously having found her target.

p I sighed. He was the cutest one out of the four. Not that I would've have wanted him anyway. I'm far to shy.

p "You look much older!" the oldest told me, smiling, but not in a flirty way. Just entertained.

p "Thank you." I whispered.

p I noticed the fourth one seemed extremely bored, leaning against the other side of the bridge. You could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek.

p "What does your father sell?" the brawny one asked, directing his question towards me.

p "Anything he can get his hands on," I replied, avoiding eye contact.

p It was sort of quiet and awkward for a minute.

p "Hey, umm, some of our friends are meeting at the tavern for some fun, would you like to join us?" the blushing one asked, covering his stomach as if afraid he was going to be elbowed again. My heart sped up. She'd actually done it.

p "Sure!" Vanessa leaped down from her perch on the bridge wall.

p "I'm going home." the bored one half said, half whispered.

p I looked at Vanessa, who was nodding to me to follow her and the gypsies. I suddenly became very nervous, and with all my heart I wanted to say no, and normally I would've, but for some odd reason I just went.

p The tavern was crowded with gypsies and drunks old and young. Of course, there was the few people there just for wholesome fun, which included me.

p But it wasn't that much fun at first.

p The brawny one, Michel, was nice and all, but I wasn't very interested. He had just turned 20 the month before, which was my age group but, as much as it shouldn't, looks sorta mattered to me. Sure, not many people agreed with me in who looked cute to me, but that was just my weird taste. When guys were really not my type, I could tend to be a little shallow.

p Whatever. I was 16.

p Michel and me sat across from each other at a table and Vanessa sat next to me with Gilbert (the blushing one) across from her.

p The other one disappeared to another group.

p We made enough small talk to keep us entertained, until some people started playing fiddles.

p "Lets dance!" Vanessa stood up, holding her hands out to Gilbert. He blushed, but lead her to the middle of the floor where other couples were dancing.

p I blushed just like him. Michel looked at me as if unsure if to ask me or not. I tried to get of that subject quickly.

p "Who taught you how to play your flute?" I asked with my 'I'm just curious!' look.

p "Me!" a deep voice said. Two new gypsies were standing at our table. Well, one was new, but the other was goatee man. My face went red hot. He wasn't wearing a mask then, revealing his nose, which he bore proudly and high in the air, but not like those students. He did it differently, like he just wanted the world to know that he wouldn't let them define him.

p My respect for him went up five levels.

p The new man sat beside Michel, loosely wrapping his arm around the younger man, who blushed as if ashamed. Goatee man sat beside me, and I avoided looking at him.

p "I'm his father," said the other gypsy," My names Paul."

p "From the Bible?" I asked immediately. I usually thought before saying anything.

p "Yes, it is," Paul replied, a little surprised, "You catholic?"

p I paused. "Protestant."

p All three men's eyes widened, not mad or disgusted but genuinely surprised. I smiled at Michel, who gently removed his father's arm from his shoulders mumbling, "Do you know how strange that looks?"

p Paul gave a hearty laugh. "What's your name dear?"

p "Meg," I said, "not from the Bible."

p I looked at goatee man, waiting for someone to introduce him. No one did.

p "Do you play an instrument?" asked Michel.

p "Oh, no. I can't even sing!" I replied, a little embarrassed. I could sing. So was I lying? Yeah.

p Goatee man laughed this time but didn't say anything.

p "Horrible isn't it?" I added sarcastically, fake heartbreak on my face.

p "How do you survive?" Paul joked, smiling.

p "I'm nice to my daddy," I admitted, only half-joking.

p "She's the merchant's daughter," Michel told them.

p "Ahh, I saw him today!" goatee finally spoke, his voice deeply accented, and this strange melodical tone that was both baritone and tinner all at the same time.

"I did to! He was talking to those guards, trying to sale something. Funny how they're so nice to him! Bought something from him, do you believe it?" Paul told us. I raised my eyebrow. Michel saw it.

p "The soldiers here aren't exactly friendly." Michel explained.

p "Your much to kind!" Paul complained," I've lived here my whole life and not one of them has said a sentence to me without the words, ' scoundrel ' or ' vermin ' in it!"

p "Perhaps we are going about it the wrong way? Next time we should bake them cookies to bribe a fat one,"

goatee man smiled.

p I stifled a laugh.

p "Its not really funny," Michel reminded them, "they've been brain washed into hating us and its-"

p "Pathetic" goatee man sneered.

p "I was going to say sad," Michel grumbled.

p "I agree! Its a horrible thing to hate a whole people just because someone else does." I said, and was about to ask who had them brainwashed when Vanessa and Gilbert danced by us, Vanessa tilting her head for us to join them. My stomach sunk.

p "Go on, you youngish can dance!" Paul told us. My stomach lurched back up.

p "I hate to say it, but I can't dance." I blushed.

p "You can't dance or sing?" goatee man asked.

p I really wanted to know his name.

p "Its not hard, you just have to be taught! Michel'll show you how!" Paul urged.

p "Pa, if she doesn't want to dance-" Michel started.

p "Well its not that I don't want to, its just-" I started.

p "Then why don't you?" Paul asked, "Go!"

p "I'm not a good teacher, you won't learn a thing." Michel said to me.

p "Then I'll teach you!" Paul declared, running a hand across his gray streaked mustache and standing up.

p "Oh no!" Michel whined, leaping up as well.

p "Both of you, sit down! If Meg wants to learn, I'll teach her," goatee man half said, laughing at the pair. "Its up to you." He looked at me and grinned largely. His teeth seemed to be chipped on both sides of his wide smile.

p "Oh, I'm deeply sorry monsieur, but I can't dance with you." He cocked an eyebrow. I smiled. "I don't know your name."

p All three of them blushed, ashamed they forgot to introduce him.

p He stood up and bowed. "I am Clopin Trouillfou, and it is very nice to meet you."

p "Well in that case," I stood up, "you may try to teach me to dance."

p "Is that a challenge?" he asked.

p I shrugged and giggled, unable to think of a witty come back.

p He led me to the floor where the other couples were dancing.

p "Ok, I think you put your hand here and I put mine here-no wait. You put yours here." he grabbed my left hand on his shoulder and then put everything else in place. Then removed everything because it wasn't right and trying again.

p "You don't even dance, do you?"

p He gave me a wicked smile. "I know the basics."

p "Doesn't seem like you do."

p "Well I used to," he said, changing the position of our arms again. It must have been right because all the other dancers dodging us had their hands the same way.

p Then Clopin started dancing. And, unfortunately, I wasn't lying when I said I couldn't dance. I really can't.

p "What am I doing?" I asked him desperately trying to keep up with him but instead I was just kinda dragged by his grip on my arms. I loosened my grip on him, attempting to stop and leave the dance floor, but before I could Clopin pulled me closer to him.

p "Don't give up, you'll get it!"

p I looked at his feet, trying to mimic them the best I could, which was a pretty sad attempt.

p So then I tried to just 'feel the music'. Yeah right. Goatee man practically had to catch me. I struggled to get my balance back.

p When I finally started getting use to it, the song ended. Clopin led me back to the table.

p "She's all yours."

p Michel came over to me.

p "How'd I do?" I asked him, my eyes still on Clopin. Well, not really Clopin all together. Just his nose.

p "You're not that good," he admitted. I frowned at him.

"I'm trying."

p He smiled at me.

p And the next song started.

p It didn't last long for me. I fell right on my butt. And everyone laughed. My whole face went hot.

p But, hey, the dancing position with Michel was much different then with goatee man. Michel was so muscular I could barley fit my hand around his arm! And he was so much stronger and brisker than Clopin, who had moved gracefully with his skinny legs.

p I really wasn't expecting it.

p "I'm hopeless!" I told him, as he helped me up and took me back to the table, where the older men were having their share of laughs still.

p "You'll get better with practice," Michel assured me, adjusting small cap to reveal a good bit of thick, curly black hair.

p I had just seated when I heard a husky voice shout, "Everyone, shut up!"

p And everyone did, turning towards the man who had told them to. He was a soldier, dressed in shiny, silver armor that smoothed the wrinkles of his large belly. He needed to shave and he had deep wrinkles around his mouth, though I couldn't imagine he smiled often.

p "Its to loud in here, so we need you all to leave.

Its disturbed the piece.

p Clopin leaned back in his chair to get more comfortable, snapping his fingers, "I knew I should've baked cookies today!"

p I fought hard not to laugh to hard. The man turned in our direction.

p "I mean it. The party is over."

p "You're right!" Clopin smiled at the man, revealing his chipped teeth, "It ended the minute you walked in!"

p "Scoundrels, you all are! I oughta throw you in jail!" he hissed.

p "We oughta throw you off a cliff!" a gypsy argued, which set the whole crowd with laughter.

The soldier was about to say something, but another voice silenced him.

p "Calm down, its all in good fun." Vanessa's calm voice said.

p "Ma'am, you shouldn't be around these people! Pickpockets, rapists, that what they all are!" he told her while everyone began to leave.

p I followed, mesmerized, behind the three men. What was all that nonsense?

p Outside it was chilly, but it felt good after the heat of the tavern. All the gypsies scattered between the many houses and narrow alleys. When Gilbert came out her joined Clopin, Paul and Michel. They all nodded goodbye to me and were off just as quick as the other gypsies.

p By the time the soldier, who was still busy lecturing my sister, came out of the tavern not one gypsy was in clear sight.

p Vanessa pretended to listen to the rest of his lecture patiently.

p "Vanessa! Come one, dad will want us home!" I called after her, giving her excuse to leave.

p She wrinkled her nose the minute she saw me. "We'll have to remember to pray for those poor people."

p "Seems to me its that soldier who needs to be prayed for," I whispered.

p Vanessa rolled her eyes at me.

p "I saw you dancing!" she teased me.

p I blushed. Clopin wasn't really a bad dancer after he'd remembered it. "Yeah, he tried to teach me."

p "He's actually kinda cute, you know?"

p I smiled. Yeah. Clopin was cute. But...

p "He's way older then me, though," I said, glad she couldn't see me blushing.

p "Not really! He couldn't have been older then 20!" she replied. I raised my eyebrows, but she couldn't see me.

He didn't look 20, he'd looked maybe 30.

p "Besides, I wanted to know if you thought he was cute," she reasoned, as we got to the Inn. We didn't continue the conversation until we were safe in out room.

p I laid on my bed. Did I think Clopin was attractive enough to tell Vanessa? For all I knew it was another of those things that didn't even last a week and before I knew it Clopin would become extremely not my type.

p "Yeah, he's charming," I replied, to stop me from over thinking.

p "Great! We can date together! You know they're brothers, right?" Vanessa started to unlace her boots.

p "Who?"

p "Gilbert and Michel! They're brothers and we're sisters! We can go out together, it'll be so cute!" she smiled largely.

p My stomach sunk to my feet. She was talking about Michel! And now she thought I liked him!

p I should've have figured that one out from the start! Vanessa thinking Clopin was cute? And of all the times Vanessa told me only I think older men are hot?

p I really should've known.

p But, instead, I was going to have to go on a 'date' with Michel and Vanessa with Gregory.

p "I'm going to take a bath..." I whispered, darting out of the room. I almost cried.

p I woke up early. Vanessa was still sleeping, her mouth hanging open and making slurpy sounds. I hated her in the mornings, really.

p Usually I would've just gone back to sleep and got up the next time I woke up, but I forced my eyes to stay open and quietly got ready.

p I wanted to help dad put up the stand and help him sell things. Well, no, I really didn't want to. I just wanted to avoid Vanessa and any plans she had. It was a good plan. Dad would send me on many errands, so I'd be very busy. Plus, once you started helping Dad there was no way out of it. You were stuck for the rest of the day.

p I sighed at my plans. It was my fault. I shouldn't have ever even gone to the tavern. Next time, I thought, just say no!

p I caught up with him just as he was leaving the inn.

p "Oh, good! I'll need some help!" he told me, handing me a bag of goods. We carried the stuff and quickly assembled the cart and put up the goods that were for sell. Dad went to get more things to sell, leaving me in charge. I leaned up against the makeshift counter, fiddling with a skinny stick I had found on the ground. My mom made candles. They sold well for candles, and they all smelled different. We had one lit on the counter so customers could smell it

p I dipped the stick in the little fire, allowing it to spread and dance along the stem. I blew it out, watching the wind carry off the graceful ribbons of smoke. I sighed. It was such a pretty sight. I quickly flicked the ashes off the stick and lit it on fire again, blowing it out and watching the smoke drift into the sky. This procedure repeated itself several times.

p Then I noticed something colorful- again. I wasn't surprised to see goatee man setting up his cart not far from mine. I shrank back into the shadows of my cart, watching him steadily. I felt like a stalker, making sure he didn't look my way and when he did I quickly darted my eyes away, but stepped back into the lightness. I wasn't sure if I wanted him to see me or not.

p Dad came back, interrupting my momentary stalker phase.

p "Competition?" he asked, nodding towards Clopin, who was just finishing setting up his colorful stand.

p I shrugged to appear uninterested.

p "Go check it out," he ordered, putting up more of my mom's candles on the counter.

p "What? I can't!" I told him, setting the stick on fire again.

p "Don't do that, you'll catch the whole thing on fire!"

p "No I won't."

p "Go do what I told you."

p "Yes, my lord," I quickly gave him one of my big teethy smiles to show I wasn't being rude, just smart alecky.

p You think its the same thing?

p Its not.

p So I ducked out of our stand, dusting my orange dress off. It was my favorite- it had buttons down the front to about my waist, then at the bottom you could see a pink and yellow flowered pattern, which matched the fabric used for the tank top sleeves at the top.

p Usually my hair would've been neatly curled, but I didn't want to put the rags in the night before so I had all my natural curls poking out every which way.

p Honestly, my only really great feature is my face. I have a little bit of a chest, absolutely no butt and I wasn't fat, but I had my fair share of chub around the waist (though I found that if I wore certain things, I looked much more skinnier then I actually was). My face, though, I have to admit, was what made me pretty. My favorite feature is my lips, and I constantly bit them. And every time I did I thought that it was a shame they'd never been kissed.

p So, there I was, biting my lip and thinking they needed to be kissed as I strutted over to Clopin and his stand. I was almost there when I saw him slide a little puppet on his hand.

p He was a puppeteer!

p And, normally, I would've casually turned around and went back to my stand, but he'd caught sight of me.

p "Why, hello there!" He called after me. I blushed, trying to think of an excuse of why I was there.

p "Hello, g-Clopin!" My heart sped up when I almost called him goatee man.

p He didn't seem to notice, which was good. "Do you need something?"

p "Oh, umm," I paused. Better just tell the truth. "I was helping my dad. He wanted me to make sure you weren't competition. But you're obviously not." I nodded toward the little puppet, that looked just like him, actually. Even its little nose was in perfect proportion to its puppet body as Clopin's nose was to his.

p "But I am competition! I'll lure all your customers away with my memorizing tales of myst'ry and romance!" he replied, moving his little puppets arms along with his words.

p I giggled. "Thats so cute!"

p "Thanks!" he grinned at me, "I always thought I was a cute one."

p I raised my eyebrows. "I meant your puppet."

p "I know, but," he said, clearly not fazed, " its designed after me, so if its cute, I'm cute right?"

p "You could look at it that way."

p "And so can everyone else."

p I smiled back at him. "Your very confident in yourself, huh?"

p "Why shouldn't I be?" he asked me, his smile fading.

p I almost said 'because of your nose', but refrained. I shrugged at him. "I guess your right."

p "And of course!"

p It was silent for a moment, me staring at, well, honestly? His mask-covered nose, and he staring at, well, I don't know. I was to busy to notice.

p "You should go help your father," he said, ending the silence.

p "Bye," I said, a little annoyed that he dismissed me. I wasn't usually dismissed.

p But I walked back to my dad, who didn't even bother to ask if Clopin was competition. He was to busy fiddling with one of my old dresses he was going to try to sell.

p I sighed and dipped the stick, which I still held, into the candle again while my dad wasn't looking.