Hello everyone! I don't want to give much away, but I do want to say the names in this are different from what your used to. They've been french-ified. Here's a key:

Richarde Serieux- Richard Grayson- Robin

Koriandre- Koriand'r- Starfire

Reverend Victor Stèle- Victor Stone- Cyborg

Garfield Creux- Garfield Logan- Beast Boy

Judge Slaed- Slade

(Raven comes in later, but her name is normal.) Enjoy!

Ding...dong...ding...dong...

The bells rang, indicating the time. The world was bustling about. Women carried screaming babes. Men were hard at work, just doing their best to put bread on the table. The city was far from perfect, but the people were content enough. Everyone had something to do, something to complain about. Everybody had somewhere to go, someone to talk to. Well, almost everyone.

A jester stood on the street corner. People of all different ages gathered around to watch him. He was juggling some oranges he bought from the market that morning.

"What do you get when you mix an elephant with a rhino?"

I chorus of 'I don't know's went up in the crowd.

"'Ell if I know!"

The children chuckled.

"Why do bulls wear bells?"

"Why?"

"Cause their horns don't work!"

The children laughed again.

The jester threw the oranges up into the air and then tossed them to the kids in the crowd. Everyone clapped as he bowed.

"Thank you! Thank you! You are too kind!" He sat down on a barrel. "Gather round! One and all! I have a story! A rare one, one that is of mystery and intrigue!"

Parents told their children to stay put and listen while they carried on business. The jester was trusted in the community and the children gathered daily to hear his stories.

"What story will you tell today?"

"Ah my dear boy! Have you ever heard the story of the Angel of Notre Dame?"

"There's an angel in the church?"

"Oh, there's many angels in the church, but one that is very real and very tangible. Some believe that she is not an angel at all, but a demon!"

The children drew back in fear.

"Tell the story!"

The jester drew up tall and spoke with a loud voice. "The night was dark and dreary! Rain poured from the sky! Families stayed safe inside their homes. At exactly the stroke of midnight, a great green streak lit up the sky, setting everything ablaze with an emerald glow."

The children ooo'ed and aahhh'ed.

"A child, no less than eight years old, fell and crashed into the ground. 'Twas an alien!"

"Hey! You it was an angel!"

"Shut your yap and let me talk boy!" He shook his fist at the child. "Anyways, the venerable Judge Slaed de Wilson was the first on the scene. His men gathered around the crevasse that had been formed from the impact. There must have been hundreds of men, thousands! She rose from the crater and began shouting obscenities and fighting with the soldiers. They outnumbered her, and she couldn't fight them all, so she fled!

"Judge Slaed was the only man brave enough to follow the creature, his stallion following quickly after. She ran to the church where she banged on the door for refuge, but the priest was not quick enough to let her in, and Slaed attacked! With one hit, she was unconscious on the ground!"

"Wait! If she took out a bunch of men, why couldn't she take out the judge?"

"Obviously she was too weak!" The jester clarified. "The judge moved to kill her, but was stopped by Rev. Victor Stèle! The Reverend condemned him to hell, for attempted murder, but told him if he cared for the alien, he would be free from his chains. And now she stays up in the bell tower, ringing the bells."

The children looked at him skeptically.

Another man approached the group, dressed in an all black skin tight uniform, decorated with a cobalt design across his chest. He wore a pert black and blue mask across his eyes.

"Garfield, that was the most butchered version of that story I have ever heard." He spoke.

The children cheered as the man took a seat among them. They clamored into his lap.

"Be gone acrobat! Leave the story telling to me! You wouldn't know a good story if it slapped you across the face!"

"I beg to differ." He clarified.

"How so?"

"I'm the one who told you the story in the first place." He smirked.

The jester visibly paled. "Oh...you were the one who told me?"

"Yes indeed, green bean." He gestured to the green uniform the jester wore.

"Green is so much better then blue! It's lively, warm, and refreshing! You look like a giant bruise!"

"I think Mr. Serieux looks very handsome in his suit." A little girl spoke.

"The lady has spoken." The acrobat smiled.

"Well, then, why don't you tell the story then?" He got off his barrel and left it open for him.

"Sure, but I'll sit among my fans."

Garfield growled.

"He was right, the night was dark and dreary, but it was snowing, not raining. The sky opened up and a heavenly green light broke forth from the clouds. The girl descended into the middle of town."

"Was it at midnight?"

"No, not particularly. Middle of the night, yes. The first person on the landing site was not Judge Slaed, but a young boy, about your age." He spoke to a ten year old.

"Who was the boy?"

"An orphan. He lived in the streets and was sleeping in the square when she landed."

"What did the girl look like?" Another child asked.

Richarde smiled. "Her hair was her most prominent feature. It reached down to her waist and waved like the sea. Even though it was dark, it seemed to be that sunlight was caught in her hair, as it glittered like a flame. The color was of a rose, red, deep and luscious."

The girls pulled at their blonde hair in envy.

"Her tiny pale figure was adorned with a white dress that fell off the shoulders. She sat up in the snow, and looked at him with pure forest green eyes. No pupils, no iris, no white, just pure green."

"Is that why they thought she was an alien?"

"Maybe...the boy approached her carefully. They examined each other in curiosity. Judge Slaed suddenly appeared with three men. Not hundreds. Not thousands. Three."

The children all looked at Garfield as he rubbed the back of his head.

"She was scared, the boy could tell and he reached out for her. She spoke in a tongue very foreign, 'Slugma.'"

"What does that mean?"

"We aren't sure, but I think it means 'help.' So she ran from the men, pulling the boy behind her."

"So she didn't beat up the men?"

"No, she only shoved one out of the way. Possessing strength of a full grown man."

"They ran to the church?"

"Almost. The young girl led, not sure where they were going. She was barefooted, and had to run through the snow."

"Did her feet fall off?" A little boy asked.

Richarde chuckled. "No, her feet didn't fall off. In fact, they barely touched the ground. It was like she was flying."

"She was an angel!" One of the girls sitting in his lap grasped the fabric on his chest.

"Maybe."

"What happened next?"

"Well, the boy pulled the girl into an entryway of a house, where they could hide. He tried to ask her questions, but he couldn't because she kissed him."

"EEEEEWWWW!" The boys cried unanimously.

"AAAAAWWWW!" The girls swooned in unison.

"Why would she do a thing like that?"

"I don't know, but afterwards, she spoke perfect French!"

"Wow! How weird!"

"I bet she grossed the boy out!"

Richarde chuckled again. "No, he enjoyed it."

"What a weird kid!"

"Then what happened, Mr. Serieux?"

"Well, he told the girl the back route to the church. And he went on ahead to create a distraction. Unfortunately, judge Slaed predicted this and went to catch the two before they made it to sanctuary.

"It was only until the boy heard her shriek that he realized something was wrong. He ran to the cathedral, only to find his new friend lying in the snow. The judge commanded his horse to rise up, but before the beast could trample the child, the priest came out and stopped the affair."

"Was it Rev. Stèle?"

"Yes sir, the same Reverend that pastors there now. Although, at that time, he was the age I am now."

"How old are you?" The little girl in his lap asked.

"20, if you must know."

"Wow, that's old."

"Keep going!"

"Oh! Well, the little girl was knocked unconscious and laid freezing in the snow. The reverend took her into his arms and turned to the judge in anger.

"'You claim to be a judge, a man of respect and dignity, and yet, you threaten to kill a child! On the steps of Notre Dame herself!' he yelled.

"'It is not wrong, your grace, that child has fallen from the sky, an angel kicked out of heaven, a demon!' the judge tried to justify.

"'How do you know? Our Lord may have sent her for a greater purpose, but you! You tried to spill her innocent blood! You may tell yourself what you are doing is right, but you can never escape God's sight!'

"The judge, for once in his life was humbled. He realized what he had done and was fearful. The reverend told him to repent and ask forgiveness, and then take care of the child. He did so, making a home for her in the bell tower, her strength making her ideal for ringing the bells. Because of her pure green eyes, she was named Koriandre."

"Like the plant?"

"Precisely. To this day, Koriandre lives in the tower, alone. The boy never saw her again."

"Why doesn't he just go up and see her?"

Richarde sighed. "The judge is...overprotective of his charge. He only allows the reverend up to see her. But some days, when you enter the church, if you listen very carefully, you can hear her singing."

"I want to go listen to Koriandre sing!" The little girl shouted, standing up.

"Yeah! Me too!"

"Me three!"

All the children ran in a mass to the church.

Richarde stood up, dusting himself off. "Sorry Gar, I didn't mean to steal your crowd."

"Nah, it's alright. I didn't mean to steal your story. From now on, I'll have you tell it." He looked over to the cathedral. "I better go and look after them. Victor likes kids, but there's a lot more then he's used to."

"While you're there, you can pray for an easy winter. It's already getting cold out, hard enough sleeping in that shack at night."

"What about all that coinage you've got saved up? Why don't you buy a new house?"

"No way Gar, I'm saving up to travel the world, performing in Milan, London, Delhi, and even Hong Kong for the Emperor."

"There's a time when dreams become just that, dreams. If you want to do this, you better think of a plan!"

"I have a plan! It's a surprise!"

"You're crazy Serieux!"

"Not as much as you Creux!" He called over his shoulder. He went back to his designated street corner, one over from the jester's. His wooden pole leaned against a building, and he grabbed it, sticking it into a crack in the street.

"Hup!" He breathed as he hoisted himself to stand on the top. He balanced perfectly on one foot. The people of Paris were drawn to the artist and his death defying feats. He made it look so easy, simply perched up on the stick, happily chatting away with the bustling town folk. On the outside, he looked like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Oh come on Richarde! When are you going to ask my daughter to marry you?" An old woman asked as she threw a silver coin into his pot of earnings. Next to the pot, he has his modest coat lying out. His closest and dearest friend laid on it, a small gray tiger stripped cat that he named Silkie.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Harceler, my heart has already been claimed."

"And who, may I ask, is the lucky girl?"

"The singing voice of Notre Dame."

"Ugh! You and half of all the men in Paris! Honestly, I think it's the wind that whistles and resonates through the bells."

"Maybe madam, maybe." Richarde looked to the cathedral, a rush of loneliness coursing through him. As lonely as he was, he had friends and neighbors, but there was a part of his heart that went out to her...she had no one.

Up in the bell tower, nimble feet tiptoed up in the rafters. Her fiery red hair dangled down passed the wood and danced in the wind. Koriandre was in her afternoon routine of cleaning the tower. As much as she hated it, the judge would not allow any animals in her living area, and forced her to check the beams for nests. She relocated them outside of course, but she wished that the small animals could join in chorus with her.

She sang as she worked, her voice, like the wind, multiplied as it echoed through the tower and the bells. She was unaware of the audience she had gathered down below.

"Down in the green and shady bed, a modest violet grew. Its stalk was bent; it hung its head, as if to hide from view." Each note was practiced, precise, memorized. It was her song, fitting her perfectly. She read the poem in a book, and the notes came naturally as she recited it.
"And yet it was a lovely flower, its colours bright and fair. It might have graced a rosy briar, instead of hiding there."

She sat down on a beam, her examination complete. "Yet there it was, content to bloom in modest tints arrayed. And there it spreads its sweet perfume, within the silent shade."

She made her way down, crossing beams, planks, ladders, and steps before ending up in her 'room'. One wall contained a narrow doorway onto a bridge connecting both towers. She walked out upon it and gazed at the townspeople down below.

"Then let me to the valley go, this pretty flower to see. That I may also learn to grow in sweet humility."

She sighed, and then came back into her space.

Two large windows looked out over the city, both on one wall. In front of these windows sat a table, displaying a miniature of the city she watched over. It even contained the people she observed. She had the baker with his cart, the blacksmith with his hammer, and the jester, adorned completely in green. She had spent many hours on her city, but there was one thing that it was missing.

The acrobat.

He was too quick. His body rarely was in a conceivable position to recreate. But she couldn't help but watch his tricks, wishing to see them all done in person. She shook her head at her thoughts.

"I should not be thinking of such things...still..."

"What things, Koriandre?" A dark voice asked behind her.

She stood up quickly and curtsied. "Good Afternoon Master." She said quietly.

"Hello child." He replied. He took the seat she previously occupied and she was forced to sit on the ground. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yes sir. The sunrise was beautiful."

"As will be the sunset." He began to take the food out of the basket he brought with him. Koriandre fetched the plates, hers made of clay, his of silver.

A long stretch of silence reigned as she ripped her bread.

"Do you wish to tell me something?" He eyed her.

She set her food on her plate and played with her hair. "Father Victor told me yesterday...that I have a lovely voice, and he wishes I could join the choir."

"Koriandre..." He huffed.

"I will not leave the church! And it would only be for mass!"

"What have I taught you?" He asked sternly.

She looked to the ground in shame. "I am not a human; I do not have a soul. My desires are of my sin and disobedience. I am only a tool, and no one must know me."

"And so it would be wrong for you to sing to a God that you cannot truly worship. People would get angry, chaos would break out. I'm only looking out for your best interest, my dear."

She knew the subject should be dropped. "Thank you, master. You are good to me..."

He stood up. "Grab your cloak. We have an errand to run."

Koriandre's face paled. "On such a lovely day?"

"Such is life. Come."

She threw her thick black cloak around her and pulled up her hood. She covered her face with a mask, beige in colour, laced with black and shaped like a large bird beak. She looked like an apparition, like death itself. She hated this job, and wished that he had never found out about her abilities.

He mounted his horse, pulling the two-tone mask over his face. She rode side saddle behind him. They passed the jester, who stopped juggling as they went by, and the acrobat. Koriandre, for her own sake, had never let her eyes wander while they were out like this, but this may have been her only time to look upon the face of her missing piece.

Richarde only saw two green slits glowing behind the mask, but he knew who it was. He sent her a smile, and she quickly looked away.

Across town was the slums. The sickest people lived in shacks, dying of diseases and infections. This part of the city was on the edge of the Seine, where garbage was flung to float downstream. The whole area was filled with moaning and crying.

"Court of Miracles, indeed." Slaed scoffed under his breath.

They reached a hut, the door open with a black flag hanging in the entryway. This was a system that had been put in place after Koriandre's 'ability' had been found out. It was now frequent, and people came to the church asking for her assistance.

Not that they knew who she was.

Slaed had concocted a lie around her identity. She was simply called 'The Releaser.' People fell silent in the streets when they saw the black cloaked figure with the face like a raptor like face. It was rumored if you touched her; your soul would be taken.

They walked into the hut where a man laid on a bed, his breathing harsh. A family gathered around him with tears.

"My good people, your prayers have been answered. Your dear loved one will be free from pain." He gestured Koriandre to move ahead.

She was not to talk, not a sound. She only needed to reach out and touch his face slightly. A glittering green glow came from her hand and then a vapor from his lips.

The man stopped breathing and relaxed. The wife of the man fell to her knees and wept.

"Let us go." Slaed spoke to the girl with no sympathy.

Koriandre shed but a few tears for the man, and then was whisked away. Back at the tower, the death bell knelled thrice.

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