Author's Note: I'm re-posting this because I didn't like the way I had it written before. The prologue was too long so I got rid of it. I think I like it a little better now.

I wrote this mainly because I think Quasimodo deserves some love. He doesn't get enough. I've been kind of obsessed with this movie lately and this character and reading the book by Viktor Hugo just made it all the more worse, so I decided to write a fic. It dos take after the Disney movie.

Also, I know Disney made a sequel to The Hunchback Of Notre Dame, but I personally refuse to accept the existence of Disney sequels on the basis that they're awful. If you liked the sequel then I apologize. Your welcome to pretend that this fic takes place before HOND2.

Anyways, on with the story…

Stained Glass Rose

I've been roaming around

Always looking down at all I see

Painted faces fill the places I can't reach

You know that I could use somebody

You know that I could use somebody

Someone like you

And all you know

And how you speak

Countless lovers undercover of the street

You know that I could use somebody

You know that I could use somebody

Someone like you

Off in the night

While you live it up I'm off to sleep

Waging wars to shape the poet and the beat

I hope it's gonna make you notice

I hope it's gonna make you notice

Someone like me

"Use Somebody" Kings Of Leon

Chapter One:

The sun had not yet risen over the streets of Paris. Instead there was the glow of twilight, slightly dimmed because of the rain from the previous evening.

A pre dawn chill settled in the drafty bell tower of the Notre Dame as if it were a living creature, sidling it's way up into the cathedral and making itself comfortable. It touched the bells, which were tangled in their ropes and were catching the dusty light of early morning, it touched the ravens nesting within the many cracks and crevices in the tower, it touched the gargoyles, still drying from the rain, which had lasted for several days and had seemed unending and finally it reached the bell ringer, lying under his meager blanket which settled on the strange angles of his body with awkwardness.

Quasimodo was already awake; he had been waking up at around the same time every morning for years. He remained still, watching the sky lighten through the openings in the tower. Occasionally he'd sigh.

After a while he sat up, in the poor light he might've resembled some large and frightening creature, what with the way his body moved and the odd shadows it made. He threw the blanket off of him and while shivering, pulled a long sleeved plain white tunic out from the meager garments he owned and dragged it over his dis-proportioned shoulders.

After hoisting himself up, he climbed the ladder that took him to the bells.

It was three weeks before the 6th of January and this meant that it was nearly time for the Festival Of Fools again. It didn't feel like it had been a year since he had first set foot outside the cathedral. A lot had changed since then.

He still lived in the bell tower, but now it was more out of habit then anything. The archdeacon (1) had been kind enough. He had offered him a room in the church, which Quasimodo had accepted, but after sleeping in it for a couple nights he had felt claustrophobic and had asked to return to his previous dwelling.

And he still rang the bells. He'd also picked up a few more chores around the cathedral in the lower floors, which was nice because when Frollo had been his master he was banned from venturing into the lower levels without him present because it caused uneasiness among the visitors of the Notre Dame.

The fact that he was no longer confined to the church made it easier to wake up every morning in the bell tower. He could appreciate the church when it wasn't his prison.

This didn't necessarily mean that he was wholly accepted on the streets of Paris. It took a long time to change a person's mind and people (As in the mass or the crowd, or in many unfortunate cases, the mob) were even harder.

The gypsies seemed to accept him, but they already lived outside of society and therefore had an easier time accepting other people who didn't quite fit in. In any case he was friends with Esmerelda, who was well admired by her people. And there was Clopin as well, who was the king of the gypsies and seemed to get some amusement from his company. Whether this was a good thing or not, Quasi didn't know.

As for the common folk, they could be placed in three groups based on how they had received him.

In the first group the people were kind enough, although in most cases it was the awkward kindness that a person showed to the terminally ill. They seemed to wish him no ill will, but there was an air of discomfort about them.

There were one or two exceptions. The young girl Aimee (The name I am giving to the small french girl at the end of the first film) had taken a liking to him and often visited, sometimes bringing him flowers or other things to show him. There were one or two others as well.

The second group, he found, seemed to be even more frightened of him then they had been before. This was partly because they saw more of him now and partly because a rumor had started that he had, himself, pushed Frollo from the Notre Dame.

It was only too easy to believe too. Many of the townspeople had seen him swing down and snap Esmerelda's ropes as if they were nothing (Not to mention the chains, sending the pillars crumbling around him) and had seen him pick up her pyre with one arm and swing it towards the approaching soldiers. In this way, it seemed that he was feared for the same reason he had been accepted.

And the last group was largely unchanged. Some people just don't. It can't be helped.

Quasi reached the top of the stairs and limped over to the greatest bell, Big Marie. He wrapped his large fingers around the rope that fell from her and waited, looking for a moment out at the horizon. When he seemed satisfied he hauled on it. The massive 13-ton bell tolled loudly, ringing in the waking hour, shaking the rafters and sending flocks of birds flying from the places where they had been resting. Quasi put all of his strength into this task, pulling the rope down and crouching with it and then allowing the massive bell pull his body back up with it. As he did this, the sun rose, touched his massive shoulders and set off his silhouette.

And with the sun and the tolling of the bell the rest of the cathedral awoke.

The three gargoyles, Viktor, Hugo and Laverne stirred at their place on the edge of the great building.

Laverne, slightly perturbed, wiped a bit of pigeon leavings off of her shoulder. One of the birds had been startled by the bell had become briefly nervous before fleeing.

"Blasted things" She said as a rain of feathers fell around her. "It's a wonder they're smart enough to breed."

"Hey, if you had to be smart to breed, humans couldn't do it." Hugo said while nudging Viktor who gave him a disapproving look before carefully ignoring him.

"Ah, but it's a lovely morning." Viktor said brightly. "Finally the rain has stopped, I was beginning to think I'd never dry off."

"Right, and that wind, it's a wonder I haven't been weathered through." Laverne said while giving a nearby pigeon a suspicious look. It had returned after it's initial shock and was eyeing her with interest.

After a few moments, the great ringing stopped and the vibrations with it.

"I love this time of day, when the square is just beginning to fill up." Viktor said with a sigh as he eyed the distant cobbles.

And below, the square was filling up, mostly with the merchants and the early risers and the priests making their way into the cathedral. Shops were being unlocked, carts were being loaded and a few beggars were sauntering into the spaces nearest to street where numerous people would be sure to see them.

Quasimodo jumped down to the wood floor below the bell tower and limped awkwardly to where the three gargoyles where leaning on the parapet.

"Morning Quasi." Hugo said as the hunchback rested his arms on the ledge. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" He added. His attention, was however on the street. Far below a cart of melons had fallen over. The merchant who had been loading it cursed and began to gather them up to the amusement of passers-by.

"I'm not sure." Quasi replied.

"You've been hoping to get that paint to finish off the houses on the eastern side of the cathedral." Viktor added.

Ever since Frollo had snapped on the night that he tricked Quasi into leading him to the Court Of Miracles, Quasimodo had slowly been rebuilding the tiny model that had sat for so long in the center of his dwelling. Frollo, in his fit of rage had smashed most of it. This time around he was rebuild it better, partly because he was able to get the supplies himself and partly because he could now visit the places he was building and see them up close.

Quasi seemed to think about this for a moment.

"I could." He said. "Esmerelda said she might stop by…I don't want to be away if she does."

"So go early." Laverne said. "You can be back in an hour if you go now."

"Half as long if you use the roofs." Hugo added, chuckling as far below, the merchant's cart was turned over again.

"I think it makes people uncomfortable." Quasimodo said. "I'll go on foot, after I replace the candles in the front hall." He said as he broke away from the parapet and turned back towards the belltower.

"Hey," said Hugo, as he leaned over the ledge slightly. A carriage was making slow progress over the cobbles and the unlucky merchant, upon seeing it grabbed what melons he could hold and retreated back into his shop. "What's going on down there?" Quasi turned back to them and leaned over to look at the square.

There came the sound of shouting from far below as the carriage stopped. A few men jumped out. Laverne sighed.

"It's Lord Bastion's men again. Figures, first nice morning in a week and he has to go and ruin the view."

Lord Bastion. As far as Quasimodo knew he was a prince of some sort, or at least related to some royal family. He was in Paris to get married. Over the months several prominent families had offered their daughters in hopes that he would choose them. So far, it seemed that he found little interest in any of them.

Lord Bastion himself was very handsome and very rich and extremely well educated and this seemed to add to his capacity to be both very haughty and extremely picky. He had also arrived in Paris after spending years in the secluded walls of his privileged school and was therefore quite sheltered.

Because of this Bastion had been appalled when he saw how packed the streets of Paris were with the gypsies and beggars. Whenever he saw any he would send his men to interrupt their performances. His men would nastily assault them. They would snatch away their earnings, rip away their instruments sometimes breaking them against the ground and would smash anything else to prevent the gypsies from continuing to perform. Quasi had observed this both while watching from above and, on occasion being among the groups that were assaulted (For now that he could exit the church, he often spent time with Esmerelda and, on occasion Clopin as they made their living on the streets)

All of this was making Clopin livid. He himself had been assaulted on one or two occasions. The tiny wooden puppet stage he often used to entertain the children of Paris had been smashed twice. Quasi knew this for sure because Clopin had come to see him on both occasions so that he might repair it. The second time he'd been shouting. In fact, he'd had a shouting match between himself and his puppet, which was quite an alarming spectacle when he really was angry.

Also, because so many of the gypsies were unable to make their usual rounds on the streets begging and dancing and palm reading, they were taking in less money. This was a blow to all of them.

And so, because Bastion had taken it upon himself to make an enemy of the gypsies, Clopin had in turn taken every opportunity to exact his revenge upon the man. And the difference between Clopin and this unfortunate prince was that Clopin was much more inventive.

Also, he had eyes all over Paris.

Clopin had given the gypsies orders to take every opportunity to put Bastion's men at a disadvantage. It wasn't uncommon to find them tied up upside down on a bridge over the river, or stuffed in a cage near the Pillory where prisoners were generally kept.

He had also had a puppet of Bastion made, which he constantly used to make fun of the man. It had gotten to the point where children giggled when the prince rode past.

But if Bastion was insulted by the presence of the gypsies and the crippled, it was a mild notion compared to the apparent revulsion the hunchback's mere existence caused him. He had only been in the presence of the man on a few occasions, but that had been plenty. After a lifetime of being him, Quasimodo knew what fear looked like and he knew what hatred and disgust looked like...but Bastion despised him and so he avoided the man and his guards as much as possible.

Quasi frowned as currently two of Bastion's men, both in brightly colored uniforms approached a pair of beggars. One of the beggars was wearing a blindfold. The other was apparently crippled. At the sign of trouble the blind man removed the blindfold and dealt one uniformed man an amazingly accurate blow for a man without sight and the other ran off with amazing agility for someone a moment before, had had no legs.

"Maybe I should wait to get the paint." Quasi said as the men made themselves comfortable down in the square, counting the gypsies money.

XXX

Gage Vasser was a Captain. Or he had been, once. Now he felt more like a servant. The Duke, Lord Bastion's father had sent him along to see to the affairs in Paris while Bastion himself wiled away his time doing what princes did…which was ultimately nothing.

Currently he was standing outside the Hotel de Saint-Pol(2) awaiting the arrival of a fairly prominent widow and her daughter, yet another possible wife for the prince. Actually he was leaning outside the Hotel de Saint-Pol and squinting into a light that seemed far too bright to him, occasionally massaging his temples to relieve the pain, which was a result of drinking far too merrily the night before.

Beside him stood Theobald, a portly man with thinning hair and a big red face. He was getting on Gage's nerves because he was a morning person and those who are naturally early risers always get on the nerves of those who aren't…especially when they're hung over.

"It's so pretty out today." Theobald chirped merrily. "I was getting thoroughly sick of the rain."

"Really…I could do with a few clouds myself." Gage said bitterly, while milling over the word 'thoroughly', which had been entirely unnecessary in his opinion.

"I notice the way you've been squinting into the sun. Are you feeling very well?"

"Fine, fine." Gage answered.

"Ah, look, the cart." Theobald said with enthusiasm, apparently forgetting about his companions ailments. Two carriages were coming over the cobbled streets.

"Yes, go and meet them will you. I shall stay here in the shade." The former captain mumbled. Theobald stepped into the sunshine as the first carriage came to a stop. The driver leapt down and opened the door.

Gage watched wearily as a young woman stepped down, taking Theobald's offered hand with some grace.

The girl's mother exited second and both of them were led to Gage, who stood up straight and tried to smile gracefully.

"Good morning, Madame." He said with a quick bow. "We have been awaiting your arrival. You're Adeline Beauvais, yes?"

"I am." She replied with a smile. She had the sort of smile that was nearly a sneer. She might have been good-looking woman were it not for her sharp unfriendly features.

"This must be your daughter." He added as he eyed the young woman beside her.

Gage was glad to see that this girl was actually quite pretty. It was amazing how many lavishly brought up young women had faces that put one in the mind of some of the less alluring class of animals. Anyone who thought that wealthy people were meant to be beautiful had not spent much time around them.

She was very pale and slightly plump. Not fat, but ample in a way that made one think of the word voluptuous, with the sort of body that, if presented in the right way would make any wanting man drool. She had reddish blonde hair, constructed into very careful ringlets and eyes so big and wide that they seemed to swallow up her slightly blushing round face.

The girl put her dainty white hand out. Gage kissed it quickly, trying to ignore the immense pain that came with moving his head.

"Bonjour, Madame" He said. "It is a pleasure to have you as guests. Theobald here will show you to your rooms. If you have need of anything let me know." The woman gave him the slightest of smiles before curtseying.

"And when shall we see the prince?" Ms. Beauvais asked.

"In time, Madame, He is very busy, I'm afraid. For now, make yourself comfortable."

"My servants may need some assistance unloading."

"Of course, I shall see to it." Gage said. His smiled faded as Ms. Beauvais and her daughter were ushered into the building. He looked towards the second carriage, which had been opened and was currently being emptied by a group of what might have been the saddest assortment of servants Gage had ever seen. Ms. Beauvais was a widow. She had started out quite wealthy, but in time the money slowly drained away and with it apparently some of the more expensive help.

He sighed and headed towards them.

Among this small number of servants was an old man, who had stepped down from the carriage, walked a few feet in the direction from which they had come from and had stopped there, staring out into nothing, two children, who looked as if they could be related because of their hair color, their extremely scrawny and wiry frames not to mention the way in which they both resembled the sort of creature whose entire existence consists in hiding from things bigger then it is and a giant middle aged woman who, from the looks of her could have lifted two decent sized men in both arms.

As he approached, one of the children made an attempt to hoist a large cooking pot out of the carriage and wound up falling backwards. The cooking pot flew out of the young girl's hands and cracked on the ground. Gage sighed.

"I am certain your mistress would be displeased if she saw such carelessness." He said as he approached the girl. Before he could haul her to her feet another servant girl came up behind her and helped her up.

He stopped as the girl straightened and eyed him impassively.

"You might tell the girl to be more careful." Gage said wearily.

"It was quite worthless sir, I assure you." She said evenly.

A good word to describe the woman in front of him was handsome. She was slightly tanned, because although it was preferable that a lady should be fair, servants had to spend more time in the sun. Her hair was dark and pulled back into a messy braid. She was thin, with broad shoulders and rough hands and the word 'modest' came to mind when describing her dress as well as her figure. She was pleasant to look at, but not the sort of woman likely to turn many heads. Her eyes, however, were quite striking. They were bright, intelligent and the color of the sky on an overcast day when the sun was just about to break through.

"Let me and Fay carry the heavy stuff Charlot." She said as she took her eyes off of Gage. The younger girl, who was about fifteen looked suddenly very distressed.

"Oh, that's the fifth thing I've broken in the last week! Madame will have me flogged!"

"I shouldn't worry about it if I were you. I doubt she'll even notice it's gone. If she does, I'll tell her I broke it."

The girl stared at her anxiously for a moment before swallowing and nodding.

"I'll unload the rest of the pots, you take Francois inside…he's been too long in the sun I think." She said while nodding to the old man who was still staring at the road and talking to himself.

"Yes Andie." The girl said quickly and hurried away, casting Gage a quick furtive look as she did. Andie began to pick up the pieces of the broken pot.

"Do you need any help, young lady?" Gage asked after a moment, when the girl did not appear to acknowledge that he was still standing there.

She looked up at him again. For a moment there was the briefest flicker of amusement in her fascia. It faded and once it did he wasn't sure if he had seen it at all. She shook her head.

"I'm fine, sir. You may ask Fay if she needs help, if you like but if you do she'll assume you can carry as much as her." She said while nodding at the large woman he'd noticed before.

Gage eyed the giant woman who had grabbed two massive sacks filled with various things and hoisted them up onto one shoulder. He shook his head and headed back towards the Hotel de Saint-Pol.

X Footnotes X

(1)Ever since reading the Hunchback Of Notre Dame, or Notre Dame de Paris, I'm aware that Frollo was the archdeacon. Since this fanfic is based off of the Disney version, where he's a judge, when I say archdeacon I'm referring to the priest seen in the Notre Dame throughout the movie. I don't think he's given a name, so I'll probably have to make one up, but until then know that he is who I'm referring to when I say archdeacon. Also, if your not a fan of footnotes know that I don't expect you to have to read these exactly when they turn up in the story and I promise I wont use them too often.

(2) No idea what this place was really like. If anyone gets upset with my depiction of it yell at me and I'll change it to some place that never existed. Or, because Disney never seems all that concerned with depicting things accurately, allow some room for interpretation since this is based off of a movie that had a million inaccurate things in it.