AN: this has been laying about my documents for months begging to be uploaded. this is my third Notre Dame De Paris fanfic and so far my best, characters from my first fanfic will appear but this mainly focuses on the relationship between Clopin and Esmeralda. please R&R and i hope you enjoy ^^
He watched as little Esmeralda danced, the multicoloured layers of her ragged skirt twirling brilliantly around her petite forum. The sudden flashes of her bronze, firm legs caught his attention making a smile spread across his withered face. He could not help it; he was enchanted by the small writhing figure darting about the square. Her bare feet barely touched the ground as she danced spiritedly. He could hear her panting softly from where he sat on the steps of Notre Dame de Paris. The crowds gathered and cheered her on encouraging her to dance further, throwing coins and food into her tambourine on the ground. Clopin smiled, normally he would have some of the other gypsies robbing the patron's pockets but he felt charitable today, something which was considered a rarity. It may have been the New Year or Esmeralda's dancing, but he felt grateful for his kingdom of paupers and spared the citizens of Paris their valuables today. She sprung about like a deer until eventually a man clothed like a priest yelled down from the towering grim cathedral before them. She abruptly stopped dancing and gathered her earnings as the priest yelled towards her, pointing and summoning the city's guards. At the mere sight of the man dressed in black, the young Esmeralda ran towards the gypsies king; Clopin with wide arms. She hugged into his waist and stared up at the priest with wide eyes framed by dark long lashes. Clopin held onto the pretty girl keeping her close as the crowds dispersed until only the gypsies were left. He knew that this priest, if he was one, hated foreigners especially known gypsies like himself and Esmeralda.
'Sir Phoebus de Chateaupers, captain of the king's archers. I summon you to chase away all these outlaws' the priest said motioning to the irritable gypsy horde. The group of gypsies started to break apart as more and more guards came to assist the holy man. The priest continued to rambled about "stopping this horde of strangers", standing high above the heads of the penniless, homeless group, as grim faced as any of the gargoyles adorning the spiralling roves. The group of gypsies spat and cursed at the sombre priest, as the guards started to fill the square to remove them from the cathedral steps. Clopin grabbed a hold of Esmeralda's hand as the guards started to appear. He knew how corrupt the city's guards were and knew how lovely Esmeralda was. He also knew she was a young woman now and was bound to find love soon, hopefully with someone that loved her and wouldn't hurt her. No, he wouldn't let anyone hurt Esmeralda; he'd give his life to save her from harm. He felt a sudden jolt of electricity as he felt the soft skin of Esmeralda's palm. The skin was like velvet, unstained or ruined by the cruelty of life. Unlike his own; which were scarred and destroyed by the harsh life he had lived. The hands of a gypsy, the hands of a murderer and a criminal were tainted by his sin and would tell the world of his sin.
Sir Phoebus de Chateaupers, captain of the king's archers appeared in shining armour. He was an exceedingly handsome man with bright brown eyes, a fashionable beard a handsome and youthful face and muscular shape. He stood before the gypsies ordering them to leave the grounds. He, like the grim priest was not known for kindness towards for the gypsies or even the lower classes of his own countrymen. While the city's guards closed in on the pack of gypsies: Phoesbus stood with his arms raised like a god before them.
'In the name of god I'll slay and chase you from sight. All you louts without standing' he said as clearly as the chiming of a bell moving towards the the guards began to drive away the gypsies; Clopin felt a tug on his arm. Esmeralda's small hand quickly fell out of his hand despite his desperate attempts to reclaim it. Lost in the crowd looking desperately for little Esmeralda, Clopin was forced away with the others into the filthy streets and into the shadows.
Esmeralda had let herself be taken away by the handsome solider. There was something about this man that had let her exchange his white satin hand for her trusted Clopin's copper jute hand. He pulled her away from the poverty and uncertainty of her gypsy life and in one single moment she felt safe. She felt at risk at the same time; this was a Frenchman who hates us, who has caused my family harm she thought as he pulled her away from her ragged family . She writhed like a trapped animal in a bear trap from his strong grip until she was free. The handsome solider gave a confused and hurt expression but kept his distance. Esmeralda looked like a trapped animal, maybe Phoebus thought so too but she didn't care. She ran whenever he stepped forward and yet she could not run completely from him. Something kept her close to him, something she had not felt before. It excited and frightened her yet it did not blunt her wits, she kept her distance, running from him whenever he got close. Her multicoloured skirt fluttered above her ankles as she ran barefoot almost playfully from the handsome Phoesbus.
'Where are you from, lovely stranger? Daughter of the stars or the earth. Fair bird of paradise why are you here? 'He asked gently until she sat close besides him on the steps of Notre Dame. His voice was gentle yet masculine as he warmly muttered his complements towards her. She herself did not know the answer to the question, not fully. Her mother died when she was young and Clopin looked after her taking her with him as he toured Europe. In her mind France was her home.
'I'm a gypsy. I'm a Bohemienne, I'm a tzigane. Nobody knows my land' she confessed as he slid close besides her. She could feel his uneven breath on her tanned face now as she looked into those deep brown eyes. They were beautiful as they looking almost adoringly at her. She looked down at the ground, feeling herself blush then towards the buildings of Paris. 'I'm a child of the road 'she continued as she felt his gaze on her slender figure. Suddenly he saw his hand rising from the corner of her dark eye before feeling him touch her chocolate hair. He twisted it between his pale fingers, admiring every last strand. She liked being admired. She suddenly got up and stood before him. She extended her hand towards him, a playful smirk spread across her beautiful face. She was extremely joyous when he reached for it but playful pulled her hand away and twirled back onto the square. Picking up her battered tambourine she started to hit it in a rhythmic fashion and started to dance. He will enjoy my dancing, everyone else seems too she thought happily as she started to twirl and skip about the square once more. She began to sing in a foreign language, but from what Phoesbus heard it seemed Spanish.
The crowds gathered once again, cheering for La Esmeralda. Esmeralda felt a jolt of ecstasy as she saw Phoesbus watch her, he smiled as she danced. He was unlike any man she had ever saw he was also very charming and handsome. Her heart beat just a little faster whenever she saw him it was stranger and unknown to her. She watched as Phoesbus inspected an overly rowdy couple before returning to watch her. Her little dance was over, but when she looked up from under her dark eyelashes her godly solider was gone; Phoesbus was nowhere in sight.
She returned with haste to the gypsy's home under the gutters of Paris. The rain clouds loomed over head and growled with promises of heavy rain. Esmeralda ran through the streets, her knife within reaching distance. She had never killed before and did not plan to but these were dangerous times. She felt so happy and dizzy from her encounter with the godly solider it baffled her as entered the derelict building. She walked down the spiral stair case, crafted by unknown hands until she was inside the Court of Miracles. The room was made of stone and covered with exotic clothe hanging from the domed roof and wooden supporting rafters. Posters of circuses and wanted posters of members of the gypsy tribe adored the walls along with graffiti and stolen art. Barrels of food and ale were dotted about the room along with a throne for the self proclaimed king: Clopin. Clopin sat on his throne and gestured for Esmeralda to sit with him on an empty barrel.
The room was barely occupied as it was early yet. The whores would be doing their rounds; the thieves would hide in the shadows all trying to survive. Only three older women, herself and Clopin where in the room, rare considering that this very room was the heart of gypsy life in Paris.
Clopin gentle took a hold of Esmeralda's hand and gentle began to speak. Clopin looked vulnerable and uncertain for some reason, Esmeralda noted as she looked towards him with a warm smile on her face.
'You know, Esmeralda you are no longer a child.' He started, placing his dry rough hand on her shoulder. He could feel the bones poking through the thin fabric; he could fell the warmth of Esmeralda's body seeping onto his hand. He caught himself thinking about the warmth of other parts of her body. He looked away letting go of her velvet hand. It was sweet torture having any form of contact with her. '...You were only eight years old when your mother left. Taken by death to her home in Andalusia... 'He held her hand once more seeing Esmeralda distressed by the memory. 'She trusted you to me and with jealousy I watched over you until today' he could tell from her lack of interest that her mind was elsewhere, he hoped it was on her mother's death and nowhere else. He pulled her soft face towards him, he need her to hear his words. 'You know, Esmeralda. Men are wicked be careful when you run. Do you understand me? You are about to find love, nothing is the same as before '
Esmeralda's eyes lit up. She had run from the captain Phoesbus just as Clopin had warned. She felt different than before which Clopin had also warned her of. She saw clearly know why the reason was; she was in love with the captain. With a kiss on Clopin's cheek she skipped merrily to her room hoping against hope that she'd dream of the captain tonight.
Clopin felt a great sadness as he watched little Esmeralda skip away, unaware of the sin and lust that man could have. He wanted her attention, her love, her lust but now he noticed he had none. He gestured for the women to come over; two of which did while the other left the room. The women sat at his feet looking up at him with charming smiles, looking up out his with dark eyes. He knew he could have anyone woman he wanted: but it was a girl his heart belonged to. He felt the experienced hands of the harlots massage his muscular thighs as they murmured softly. With his thoughts locked on the image of Esmeralda he let their wondering hands proceed, he need relief in the warm inviting curves of a woman.