MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT TENDERSHIPPING!

Okay I know you're probably all wondering what the hell I'm doing starting another story when I have two more to start, one to finish and another to update, and to be honest I don't know either, only that ever since I saw one of my good friends, Natoya's youtube video Yami's Hellfire (which is one of my FAVORITE vids) I've had this an another idea in my head, and my imagination has been literally SCREAMING at me to write these things since i neglected it due to school work and homework and shit ugh!

Dedications: Toya-chan for the inspiration and will be based off the Hunchback of Notre Dame, most the movie since the book was a tad too dar for me but like all my stuff I will throw in a couple of unique twists: the biggest ones being who will be Quasimoto and who will be Esmerelda heehee.

Warnings: As I said Tendershipping that means boyxboy love and slight mobiumshipping, though that will be a SIDE pairing only. Also since I'm sticking to a lot of the main themes of the original story this will also have some religious themes going on such as the hypocrisy of the church, social injustice and other stuff. As I've said before I'm catholic and I have no idea what the main relgion of France is and to be honest I don't care, but any negative aspects on women, gypsies or anything else in Marik (who will be Frollo's) POV are strictly his insane and corrupt mind and not ment to offend anyone. On the contrary I Love gypsies! I've always been inspired by the style and culture, but I felt the need to get that out of the way.

Summary: As a ward of the harsh and just Bishop Marik, Ryou Glory has spent his entire life in the bell tower beneath the bells of Notre Dame, under the care and guardians ship of the Grigori of Notre Dame. Shunned and hidden from the world and its evils because of his Master's determination to maintain his glory, Ryou never thought he'd find happiness. But when he sneaks away on the Mardi Gras Festival and is shown the time of his life by a mysterious man, he fears such an opportunity will never come again...only to discover that event was only the beginning...

Spirited, obnoxious and short-tempered Gypsy thief, Bakura's been with the gypsies since his village was destroyed by the Bishop's crusade to "purify" France; used to being alone and fending for himself, he knows he can trick or tempt anyone to his will and then make himself scarce, but when chance introduced him to the "Angel of Notre Dame" he find his life thrown out of control when he catches the attention of not only the Bishop but his brother the Captain and finds a price on his head even the Sanctuary of Notre Dame can't protect him from completely.

Two souls never meant to meet, brought together by fate and the whim of God, against a dark tyrant, and a love that will forever change the city of Paris.

Disclaimer: Yugioh and all its characters belong to Takahashi, i own nothing, the hunchback of notre dame was a disney movie inspired by the book by Hugo, also not mine. I only own the idea, and am writing this for fun and because the hunchback of Notre Dame just SCREAMS tendershipping!

As always read, review, comment, critique, ask questions and whatever you like

Chapter One: Glory

Darkness cloaked the streets of Paris as guards in armor black as night surrounded the circle of outcasts. The women in the circle almost shrieked horses kept them trapped in place and spears prevented them from moving. They wore the cloaks and costumes of gypsies which on any other night have helped them to escape, but winter had wrapped Paris in a blanket of white, making the city shimmer even in the blackest of nights. Their miscalculation and poverty had been their own downfall.

"We've captured the witches, sir." The guards address the loan figure slowing arriving through the darkness. The women gasped in horror as the man approached. The man who's very presence struck fear into the hearts of gypsies and everyone he considered corrupted and evil.

The Bishop smiled as he demounted his horse and approached them draped in rich robes of black. His spiky mane of sand-colored hair, contrasting nicely with the rich brown of his skin, sharp lavender eyes pulled into a smirk at the sight of the women trembling in fear at the sight of him.

Good. He thought to himself. Women were sinners after all, but then again they had sinned him since the day he was brought into the world. The day the whore who birthed him and his brother abandoned them on the streets of Paris, not even bothering to ensure their survival. It was only through the grace of God and the church of Our Lady that they survived. It has shamed him when the priest had told them the truth, and he's shunned the race of women ever sense. What woman would abandon her own children on the streets to die, when Our Lady herself had endured so much suffering at the hands of the public for bearing the very child of God? How ironic he thought that the woman who shunned might be one of the sinners he executed in order to promote the purity of Paris. The Lord certainly did work in mysterious ways.

"Take them away." He ordered harshly before remounting his horse and making his way through the streets. The women screamed as the guards descended on them and bound their wrists in chains. "Take those gypsy witches to the dungeons until their execution." He ordered with a smirk in his voice. Triumphantly, he pulled the reins of his stallion and kicked the horse's sides order him to increase his speed. The horse whined in obedience and took to race.

Snow covered the streets and roofs of Notre Dame in a blanket of white illuminating the city even in the cloak of night's darkness. The gypsies should have prepared, had they chosen a less white night they might have escaped. He smirked until a sharp veil caught his ears. He pulled the horse to a stop with a sharp jerk on the stallion's reins. The horse neighed in protest, but was quickly silenced by his master.

One the night was silent the Bishop listened, his gloved hands gripping the reins so tight they would've gone white. Again a wail echoed through the streets. The Bishop's heart plummeted as he recognized the sound—the heart-wrenching wail of an abandoned infant. Anger ripped through his blood, as memories of his own abandonment flashed through his mind. Pulling harshly on the horse's reins he ordered the creature towards the sounds. The horse obeyed without hesitation and increased its speed with each screech from its Master.

The bishop eyes widened as the wide rose windows and flying buttresses of Notre Dame herself. The wails grew louder piercing the night with its desperate cries for sanctuary. He felt his blood thicken as the church approached.

The horse suddenly stopped and round itself up on its hind legs. Overcome by shock, the bishop's grip on the reins loosened and he found himself falling backwards and crashing to the bed of snow. He bishop growled in fury and rose to his feet. Before he could scold the animal, his eyes widened at what had made the horse so frightened in the first place. Their lying upon the steps of Notre Dame, sprawled out as if she'd been crawling was the body of a gypsy woman.

Feeling bile rise in his throat, the bishop approached with caution, and gazed upon the woman, her clothes were in rags and long white hair so pale and smooth it almost blended in with the snow draped around her. She was indeed a gypsy, and her pinched skin and malnourished form, and the thin layer of clothing, which had obviously done little to protect her from the cold, had clearly been the cause of her demise. Even his own hatred of woman could not convince him to completely despise her. His ears heard another piercing wail, and his eyes followed the woman's outstretched arm.

A pale ringed hand gently held onto a small bundle on the steps, crying loudly, demanding attention and comfort. He felt his heart twitch as his gaze fell upon the woman and saw her black eyes still open. She saw him and shivered, despite her weakness, but then she smiled, looking as if she were addressing a old friend.

"Sanctuary," she rasped, as her energy slowly seeped away. "Take me angel of death, but grant my son sanctuary—" she said before her eyes finally shut and her hand slipped from her child. The baby wailed even louder now, as if realizing its mother had just died.

Even his own hatred of woman could not keep a smile from grazing the Bishop's face. It seemed not all woman were evil this one had given her life to ensure her son's safety. At least she had brought him to the church where the priest would surely take care of him, not like him own mother, who'd given birth in the streets and left her two sons to day mere minutes after they were born, and stumbled drunkly to her next client, while her babies screamed for their mother.

With a large swoop of his arms he scooped the infant into his arms and wrapped it in his cloak which, having been accustomed to the winter, served to be much warmed then the light cloth covering the infant's naked form. "There there, little one." The bishop smiled and slowly began unwrapping the damp blanket from the child's face.

He froze, his hand dropped as the boy's face was revealed. The child was beautiful: too much for a boy and impossible for an infant: perfectly smooth skin with not a blemish in sight, a perfectly proportioned body though tiny and frail from youth, a perfect tiny head with features as soft and gently as a china doll. Silky hair as white as the snow had already formed a halo around the boy's head, but worst of all were the eyes: so perfectly round and upturned and the corners, perfectly dark and brown and creamy like the smoothest shade of blackish brown. But it was not the color; it was the eyes themselves, one look at the bishop swore, his heart was suddenly brought to light. Their sway held so much power than one look was all it took and the boy had whomever he wished wrapped around his finger, willing and reads to do whatever he pleased with them.

It wasn't right: the feeling suddenly swelling through him. They were wrong. Even for a woman no one should be feeling these feelings. The bishop took one last look at the dead woman and cursed himself for being fooled into thinking any woman was capable of goodness. She had not been trying to save a human child, but a demon! An incubus who was already swooning men in a way no woman could.

"No." the bishop snapped pulling the child away, the boy cried again having been forced from the sudden warmth. "You shall not tempt me! I have worked too long and hard to achieve the sanctuary of me and my brother, I shall not have one of the devil's whores condemn me!" he said almost manically, searching for a means to destroy the demonic offspring.

His eyes fell upon the well in the corner, and a smile slit the bishop's face as he gently walked over, drawing the infant from the shelter of his cloak and holding it away from as if the child were infected with disease. The baby wailed in fear and from the cold. "Do not worry child" the bishop cooled, with a wild glint in his sharp lavender eyes slowly twisting with insanity. At last he approached the rim of the well and held the bundle over it. "It will all be over soon."

"Stop!" A familiar voice froze the bishop in place and he turned around, instinctively drawing the infant back to him. His robed and cloak swaying like the black wings of a raven.

"Have you gone mad, Marik!" the Archdeacon roared in horror, as he leaned down to scoop the dead woman in his arms.

"Do not worry your old heart, my master." The bishop Marik, bowed respectfully to the man who he owned his life. "The woman was dead upon her arrival, she died attempting to infest out church with his demon." He gestured to the still screaming child. "I'm sending it back to hell where it belongs!"

The Archdeacon's eyes widened in shock then softened at the look of wildness and confusion in his bishop's eyes. "My dear Marik, you of all people know it is a sin to spill innocent blood, no creature is born evil, and even the devil himself was not born a creature of sin."

"Impossible!" Marik roared in protest. "Look at him Archdeacon! He is a boy but he commands like a woman, he brings about feeling that should not exist, even I look at him and I feel the temptation of sin blazing through my own flesh, what else could cause such an emotion if it if not evil!"

The Archdeacon shook his head, and listed the diseased woman into his arms. "Marik do you not see, you have always hated woman, it makes sense this woman would die and her son be passed to you, and that you should feel such a way."

The bishop stepped back reconciling in horror, and even more so upon realizing he had not yet put the child down. "What are you saying are you saying I am—I am-" His pride refused to let him finished the sentence.

"I am simply a servant of our Lord Marik, I am not the one who makes the final judgment, but I know you since the day you've come here have hated woman because of the woman who was your mother. I know your acts are righteousness but if done so in hatred then they are tainted. Do you not see, Marik? The lord has sent you this child as a gift. You must care for him and race him as your own. This child shall be your glory or your defeat."

The Archdeacon's words stun the bishop to the core as he tried to console them. He looked at the squealing child in his arms, again one look in those eyes and he felt something, but it was different from before. Now he felt power, the power a guardian must protect in order to ensure that their charge does not stray to sin. Again he remembered his mother; a prostitute, an incarnation of sin if you will, and know he had risen from such evils and become a bishop if only to spite her. Yes, this child was a test but it was not God who sent him this child but the Darkness. The Archdeacon's words echoed in his head once more.

"Ryou Glory." He muttered with an almost obsessive tone.

"What?" The Archdeacon asked confused.

"His name. Ryou Glory." The Bishop answered, triumph forming a mask over his face.

The Archdeacon frowned, his brow furrowed in disgust. "That is a selfish name."

"It is his destiny." Marik replied. "You said so yourself" he addressed his master, wrapping the child in the wings of his cloak and descending up the stairs and into the church. "This child shall be my glory or my defeat."

One inside the bishops' eyes returned to the child harshly. Again he felt the spike of arousal as the boy snuggled against the warmth of his cloak. Already the child was attempting to swoon men, but he would fix that. He would ensure his ward be breed and live a life of justice free from sin. He had failed to accomplish so with his brother, and he knew this was God's way of redeeming that sin.

"Ryou Glory." The bishop said harshly, as he made his way up the spiral stair case to the room at the top of the bell tower, carved completely from stone deafen the sound of the bells as the rang each morning. He set the child on the bed in the corner and turned to leave locking the door behind him.

Glory. He smirked once again. This child would be his glory.

As i said Marik (Yami Marik) will play the part of Frollo in this, and i decided to take a creative license on him and branch away from the beginning of the movie since in the original book Quasimodo was abandoned and adopted by Frollo and named after the day he was found, (omit the Disney beginning) and actually cared for Quasimodo and kept him away from people because of his own shunning of society, but his lust and obsession became his undoing which led him to insanity.

It'll be the same thing here, the beginning of this chap I did off the top of my head but I felt it fit Marik's character, and showed how he's not evil (yet) just so blinded by corruption and his own hatred he sees it everywhere. Plus he obviously has problems with obsession which will eventually lead to his downfall, but just a note i wanted to add: also all his thoughts and negative views are for the sake of the story and not ment to offend anyone, so if i get any negative PMS comments about religion or anything, all you will get from me is a middle finger and a deleted reply.

As always, read, review, critique and comment. And sneak peek you will be seeing the "gargoyles" next chap (wink)