Instead of baby Quasimodo being taken in by Frollo, it is instead a baby girl. How does the story change when Amelia is in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, fully human but still with cat ears?


Clopin set out puppets, anticipating the children who would rush to him for a story. He wasn't disappointed, as within minutes of finishing setting up there were a half dozen children in front of him, eagerly awaiting his story.

His ears caught the sweet chimes of the soft bells, the deep replies from the larger bells, and his story was decided in his mind as he turned to the children, smiling at them and getting bright grins in return.

"They're beautiful, no?" he asked, gesturing towards Notre Dame, visible even streets away, towering over every other building in sight. "So many changing moods…it is because the bells don't ring by themselves." "They don't?" he made the puppet ask, chuckling at the children's giggles as he answered the question, the one unasked in each of their eyes. "Of course not you silly boy. Up there," he then pulled the curtain away so the children had a clearer view, through his carriage, of Notre Dame, "High in the dark bell tower lives the mysterious bell ringer."

He could see he had their attention, but a bit more interruption from the puppet sealed their interest in learning about the mysterious creature that lives in the bell tower at Notre Dame. Who was he to disappoint his eager audience? "Listen, Clopin will tell you."

It was a dark night when our tale began. Four frightened gypsies were attempting to flee to Paris, paying a boatman for safe passage. A baby's cry rent the night, and the mother tried desperately to shush her child before they were discovered.

Things seemed fine for them, until an arrow lodge itself in the pole the man used to steer the boat, the gypsies crowding together as they realized they were surrounded.

Judge Claude Frollo made a terrifying sight, mounted upon a stallion as black as his own cold heart. He longed to rid the world of vice and sin, seeing corruption all around him but never looking within to his own merciless heart to see the misdeeds which dwelled there.

He ordered all of the gypsies taken to the Palace of Justice, and as three of them were led away, a soldier attempted to rip the mother's bundle from her arms on Frollo's orders. The woman broke away, terrified that her child would be discovered and thus killed because of her deformity, and so she ran.

She could feel the breath of the horse upon her back, but although it had been many years since she had last visited Paris, she did remember the quickest route to Notre Dame. And so she ran, darting through passages too small for the horse to get through and making it to the doors of Notre Dame before Frollo.

She pounded on the doors as loudly as she could with her free hand, her child cradled to her breast with the other. "Sanctuary, please give us sanctuary!" she screamed, hearing the horse's hooves coming closer.

She cowered by the door, knowing that Frollo had heard her, that he was not allowed to harm her upon church grounds now that she had called for sanctuary. But he kept approaching and she turned to run again, but the horse was to quick, and they caught up to her, Frollo grabbing a handful of the blankets surrounding her daughter and pulling. She pulled back with all of her strength, but she was no match for Frollo, as the man pulled the bundle away from her, kicking her harshly before she had the time to cry out. She fell back, blood coating the snow around her on the steps of Notre Dame.

Frollo paid no attention to the woman, one more dead gypsy meant nothing to him, as he examined the bundle. He looked at it curiously as it cried. A baby? He held it closer, undoing the wrapping s, before rearing back in revulsion at the thing inside. A monster.

He looked around quickly, finally spying a well only a few feet away. Perfect for disposing of the demon in his grasp. He held the bundle of blankets over the well, about to release, when a new voice rent the night air.

"Stop!" cried the archdeacon.

"This is an unholy demon," Frollo said negligently, not bothering to move the monster from where it was dangling precariously in his grasp.

The archdeacon knelt beside the fallen woman, sadly realizing that she was indeed dead. "See here the innocent blood you have already spilled on the steps of Notre Dame," he replied, gesturing around at the bloodied snow around him, the lifeless woman cradled in his arms. "Will you add that child's blood to your guilt on the very steps where you killed it's mother."

"She ran, I pursued her," Frollo replied, waving off the accusations. "My conscience is clear."

"You may lie to yourself and your minions," the archdeacon warned. "But you cannot hide what you have done from the eyes of Notre Dame herself."

For the first time in his life, a life of carefully gathered power and control, Frollo felt a twinge of fear for his soul. Perhaps the old fool had a point. "What must I do?" he asked, succeeding, mostly, at keeping his voice from shaking.

"Care for the child, and raise it as your own," the archdeacon replied, carrying the poor child's mother up the remaining steps.

"What? Am I to be saddle with this…?" Frollo trailed off speculatively as he looked up at the tower. Perhaps this could still turn out to his advantage. "Very well, but the child must live here."

"Live here? But where?" the archdeacon replied, staring at Frollo with evident confusion and distrust.

"Anywhere. The bell tower perhaps," Frollo replied, looking up at the church before turning back to the child. "As long as she is kept locked away where no one else can see." A speculative gleam came into his eyes as he stared at the child. "Who knows? Even this foul creature may one day be of use to me."


I'm working on all of my stories, but I haven't had much time to write anything recently. When I did have time I just wasn't in the right headspace to write. I'm sorry, and I'm going to try to update soon.