For those of you who wonder, all french in here was from google translate. Yeah, I didn't learn my lesson from my Beauty and the Beast story :). blame the translator though, if something is wrong, and feel free to correct me if you want. Not just if it makes you feel important though, please. I want this to be a serious story, and so of course, the language should be right. TwT This story will have multiple chapters. It was originally part of my drabble series, but since not many people read it or review seriously, I felt like giving this its own place among my tales.
God help the outcasts
Hungry from birth
Show them the mercy
They don't find on earth
God help my people
We look to You still
God help the outcasts
Or nobody will.
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Every morning began with a glorious sunrise, casting both light and shadow over the streets of Paris. Doors and windows were soon thrown open to greet the morning; the furnaces of the ironworks puffed heavy waves of smoke out the chimneys, and the tailor came out and greeted passersby with his usual friendly, "Bonjour!" The women of the city woke their children and sent them off, and very soon, the streets were bustling with people from all over. Travelers were looked upon with curious, if not suspicious eyes, and the outright strange were avoided.
A few banners hung about the streets from the lamp posts; with posters of magnificent feats, displayed by a dramatic clash of color. The Festival of Fools would be that afternoon.
A boy sat upon one of the rooftops, watching the chaos below with mild interest. He was not there for the sightseeing, though it always amused him to no end. The city looked peaceful and beautiful, especially cast in the shadow of Notre Dame, the ancient and beautiful cathedral, but it never ceased to amaze how truly different and peculiar its denizens were. So many of them bustling about their business, hardly bothering with anyone else. And still the eyes. The glances cast from one side of the crowd to the next. Nothing was truly peaceful when the air was tense with worry and suspicion.
Suspicion mostly harbored against people like him.
Still, the boy smiled. He had loved the city once, and his friend, in his infinite naïveté, loved it all the more. Having lived there all their lives, the city was their one and only mother. Any bitterness he felt was for the nursemaids she housed and employed, not the Grande Mère herself. Unlike her, they felt no connection to outcasts.
"Vente de pain frais à la vente! Won't you try some? Fresh bread for sale!"
The boy looked straight down the roof to see the baker out selling his wares.
'Ah, finally.'
Very carefully and quietly, he slipped down the roof and waited until the man had wandered out into the street, speaking with a young woman. While they were determining a price for a few pastries, the boy listened carefully, and crept over to the window where a loaf of freshly baked bread sat. He could smell it as he came closer. Warm and fresh. Not a gourmet meal by any standards, but to one who wandered the streets, it smelled like a heavenly feast.
The young redhead turned to make sure the baker and the woman were still preoccupied before snatching the bread, hiding it under his coat as he left the scene, with practiced slowness. The man was sure to see him if he ran; all the suspicious people ran. It was the first way to arouse suspicion, and a sure-fire way to get caught if you were guilty. Axel had learned many times that guilty was not good for any man's health. Guilty in the book of the Judge Claude Frollo was worthy of extreme, gruesome, terrible pain, and for the especially unlucky ones, death.
He reached an alleyway and paused to pull out the bread and give it a once over. Morning-fresh, no trace of mold. Perfect. But he wouldn't eat it now. No doubt his friend was still waiting at home, hungry, and Axel had enough manners to wait until they could share this bread together. Besides, he loved eating with him.
Despite the differences between them, the two boys considered themselves 'orphans.' Their families became dead to them long ago. Axel had met Roxas one faithful night in a similar alley to this, being abused a drunken man. Even young as they were, Axel had fought off the foul man and saved the smaller boy, and ever since that time, the two had been inseparable. Axel grew to love the boy so quickly, and strove to be his friend, his brother, his mother, his father. Everything the blonde would ever need, he wanted to be. No one else needed.
And that still held true for the redhead even after they had joined the gypsies. When the two of them were finally offered something of a home by Clopin Trouillefou, when Axel agreed to burn those twin tear marks under his eyes, and accepted his new name, he did it all in the vain hope that, despite everything the harsh life in Paris streets would hold for them, that above all Roxas would be happy. As happy as he could be, enough to smile. Because that smile was the only thing that kept him going.
As Axel navigated through the alleys and around the buildings back toward the graveyard, he smiled as he the sound of a familiar pipe. Turning east instead, he followed the sound out into another street and found a small band of gypsies begging outside an old book store. He saw a few people he knew, playing music and dancing around the hat on the ground, but his eyes were trained on the one unusual gypsy. The one with fair skin, chopped, spiked blonde hair, and the delicate, almost girlish face. The boy's frail but potent radiance could shine through the foulest dirt any day.
Roxas was an average dancer, but he moved with such a passion that the fact almost seemed irrelevant. The boy smiled and laughed and danced like there was no pain, as though he'd never suffered a day in his life. It wasn't true, of course, but the fact that he could get so lost in it and enjoy it so much made Axel's heart soar. The little bells on his sleeves chimed softly as he spun, ending the song with a very graceful bow. It hardly dampened his spirits at all as people walked on, some unimpressed, suspicious, or just too busy with their own lives.
"Ah, Axel! Il est bon de tu voir!"
Roxas looked over, elated when he heard the boy's name. Axel waved off the other gypsy with a smile before spiky blonde hair assaulted his vision. He was almost thrown backwards as small arms wrapped around his waist, squeezing gently as the younger boy's head buried itself into his chest.
"Woah!" He stumbled back, chuckling. "It's good to see you too, Roxas."
The other gypsies laughed with good humor. To say the city-folk often looked unkindly upon men so friendly who were not blood related would be a dire understatement. But among most the other outcasts, the boys were welcomed and generally that disagreed kept their distance for the most part.
"He's been talking about the festival all morning!" the oldest man chuckled warmly. He favored Roxas with a wide smile. "You're a lucky one, boy, if you are good enough to dance alongside Esmerelda!"
Axel looked down, both surprised and excited by that. He knew how long the boy had been begging to perform on a larger scale. And dancing with Esmerelda, the best dancer in the troupe, was a high honor.
"Really? Clopin agreed to let you dance?"
Roxas beamed up at him, his smile the very picture of sunshine.
"Yes! I showed both of them and they said I could do it! Isn't that great?"
"Wonderful, Roxas. I know you'll do well, mon petit chou." He placed a sweet kiss on the blonde's forehead, just below his hairline. Roxas flushed slightly at the affection, but continued to smile long afterward. They ignored the cross looks of several of the townspeople. "If my act isn't going on during that time, I'll come and watch you both."
"It shouldn't be," Hortense, one of the thinner, younger girls added helpfully. "Clopin would never let anything upstage Esmerelda."
"Nothing but you," Axel whispered, before turning to the elders to speak of more important matters. The blonde smiled softly and laid his head onto his chest, nestling closer, just listening while Axel discussed details about the festival with the others.
They dismissed themselves to go prepare, and the two boys remained close for a few minutes after that, blissfully ignoring the curious stares of people on their way.
"Let's do our best today, Aimé."
The redhead found an adorably determined look on that young face and couldn't help but nod.
"I will if you will, René."
The blonde frowned, slapping his arm lightly. "You know what I mean. Please just do your act today. I don't care what Clopin asks you to do."
The redhead blinked. How much did he know now?
Inside his coat, his fingers drummed along the loaf of stolen bread, his mind already trying to console the guilty conscience.
'Just agree. Don't tell him where you got the bread. If he asks-'
A sigh interrupted him mid thought. "You stole, didn't you?"
Chuckling awkwardly, the redhead withdrew the bread from his coat, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Looks like you caught me."
"Aimé!"
"What? It's not like it hurts anyone!"
"It's still wrong!" the blonde persisted, stamping his foot for emphasis, a frown weighing heavily on his delicate features. They had talked about this all before, but mostly for grand thefts he had committed. It was a subject the blonde fought religiously against. "It doesn't hurt him, but it takes away from his stock and earnings! It's not right! What if he has a family to feed?"
The older boy snorted, pouting. "I know for a fact that he doesn't."
"You're making a worse name for us than we already have."
"I know!" The older boy heaved a heavy sigh, lowering the hand with the bread. "I know. I just...You know how I feel. I just don't want you to go hungry. You work so hard, but you always make so little. We need to make up for it somehow."
"But it's okay," René said eagerly, his tone and gaze becoming gentle once more. "Together, we make enough. And the troupe takes care of its own, you know. Clopin would never let us starve."
"What makes you think he doesn't steal and cheat people out of their money like everybody else?" He hated pointing it out, but still.
The younger boy paused, taken aback by the sudden harsh tone.
"Then...Then we'll only rely on ourselves from now on. I'll work harder."
Axel winced. He hated making the blonde sad, but it was clear he had done just that. He knew the gypsies did steal a bit, but he had to remember that Roxas had greater faith in people. The abuse and years in the streets did nothing to shake his trust in others.
Most of the gypsies were pleasantly charmed by his worldview, though, and Esmerelda loved and doted on him like a little brother. She was a good person like him, but was more realistic, like Aimé. She understood the struggle to preserve life in a harsh, unforgiving city.
Aimé sighed, letting a small smile tug at his lips. He wrapped his arms around the smaller boy once more, knowing he had lost before this argument had even begun. The blonde just had that effect on him...
"Alright. If it means that much to you, I promise not to steal during the festival." The rest of the week might be a stretch, however. They had to find ways to eat somehow. There was no chance that Clopin would just let them eat for nothing, but his friend didn't need to know that.
René gave him a look, but seemed to accept the answer. He didn't push anymore. He simply accepted the bread and ate it graciously, as the two sat down in the alley and just enjoyed the day.
"I love the festival. It makes the whole city seem so happy."
"Not too much else to smile about these days," Aimé added, tearing into a big bite of bread with his teeth. "It's wrong though, if you think about it. It's a day to laugh at freaks and crown the ugliest of them all."
The younger boy frowned slightly. "I guess so. Do you always have to look at the downside of things?"
"Someone has to."
René sighed, but let a small smile cross his face. "You act like such an hardened old man. Do you remember the first thing you said to me when we first met?"
The redhead paused. When he didn't answer for a minute, his friend replied, overly serious, "'You stupid kid! What kind of idiot is out in the streets this late at night?' You sounded so ancient, scolding me like that."
Aimé grumbled softly to himself, even as he felt the smaller boy scoot closer and nestle up against his side. "You're still as hard-headed as you were then. Maybe more now. But you know, I just can't imagine where I'd be without you."
"Lying dead in an alley with a knife stabbed in your gut."
The boy snorted, hitting his shoulder lightly. "Thanks a lot."
A grin answered him.
They sat in silence for a moment, and Aimé watched with mild humor as the blonde shoved a large piece of bread in his mouth. It looked almost too large to fit. When the older boy chuckled, René shot him a look, cheeks puffed out slightly with food. "What?"
"You call me old, but look at you! You act like such a boy," the redhead said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders while his other hand ruffled the boy's hair. "Quite a clever boy, though."
René was spoiled because he had come from a relatively wealthy family, and he used his boyish charm to get just about anything he wanted. The redhead laughed as he realized he never needed to steal at all. He could just bring René along with him and just have him stand there and cry. It would probably work, too.
Or maybe that was just the blonde's effect on him.
René was done pouting, but he noticed the older boy's suppressed chuckle and looked at him with slightly miffed curiosity. "What are you laughing at?"
Aimé brushed it off quickly, still grinning. "Nothing. Just a strange image."
"Of what?"
"Nothing."
"Tell me!"
"Not a chance."
"Aimé!"
"Roxas, Axel, venez vite!" A voice called from down the alleyway. "The festival starts at noon! No time to dawdle!"
The blonde smiled again, quickly calling out that they would only be a moment. He seemed to forget the argument very quickly, as he rose from the ground and brushed off his clothes before turning to his childhood friend.
"We should go, Axel."
The redhead nodded, accepting a hand. The others would need help finishing up before everything got underway.
"Sure thing, Roxas."
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People wandered aimlessly in and out of tents in the blazing mid morning sun. There were all sorts of games and stands of merchandise set up, all displayed with bright colors and the enticing voices beckoning customers to their doors.
Many people gasped with horror and delight as Axel took a baton and breathed fire on the end of it. After repeating the act with another baton, he twirled them, around himself, in the air, all over for the crowd's enjoyment. They were even more amazed when he took each one individually and stuck them in his mouth. It was all a trick, really; he had coated his skin, his mouth, and throat with a special mixture that kept the flames from burning him. He had always had a passion for fire in his youth, but only now, after he'd been thrown out by his old man and told he'd be worth nothing, could he actually do what he wanted.
'Suck that, old man...'
Pulling the other fiery baton from his mouth, he threw them both in the air with practiced ease, letting them twirl until finally, they landed in a barrel of water nearby. A steamy hiss escaped the barrel, but that was the end of it. The redhead made a deep bow and smiled at the clapping crowd. He ignored the strange looks of some of them and held out a hat, hoping someone would drop something in.
But too many people left the circle, not paying nor cheering. Axel was only able to collect a few shoddy coins, but he wasn't all that surprised. Times were hard in Paris with Frollo in charge; he cracked down on everyone harshly with taxes and coercion. The guards harassed anyone whenever they wanted to pick a fight, and the ever-gracious judge, who claimed he spoke and acted with God in mind, always turned a blind eye. It made him angry, but then again, there was nothing he could do.
Still, Axel relished in the small victory. This was one less meal he would have to steal, once Clopin had his cut. He'd probably still have to do some work for the man, but...c'est la vie...
He watched the crowd for a while after that. There was no point in starting up another act when the main events were coming up in less than a half hour. So he looked out into the sea of masks and colors. Today was a day when fools could be fools; people acted silly, pulled pranks, and sometimes even committed crimes. All hidden behind their happy masks. Everyone knew how Frollo hated the festival and all it stood for; the dregs of human kind, all mixed together in a shallow, drunken stupor. But that was part of its appeal. The man could endure it for one day.
It pleased the mob that was Paris.
At one point, he felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to face a beaming Roxas, all dressed up in reds, purples, and golds. His costume was tight fitting and moveable, just like Esmerelda's as he had seen earlier, and he had a similar headpiece, almost completely camouflaged by his golden hair.
Roxas really stood out among the other gypsies. Axel did with his red, spiky hair, but at least it was dark, and his skin tanned easily in the sun. Roxas always seemed pale; not sickly so, all the time, but he never seemed to burn, and when he tanned, it was barely noticeable. It was like his skin was marble, and yet it was so much warmer and more feeling than any stone. Especially in clothes like those, the redhead wanted to feel how soft it was, and hold him.
Overall, the outfit made for a pleasing package, and Axel felt his firm self-control wavering at the sight alone.
"Well," Roxas asked, a touch nervously as he tugged at his sleeve. "Does it look good?"
Axel chuckled, quickly grabbing the boy and pulling him backwards into an unoccupied immediately tugged the blonde close and began kissing down every bit of his neck heatedly, hands roaming over silky fabric.
"It's beautiful. C'est magnifique. Tu avez l'air ravissante. Je-"
"Aimé, Aimé! Stop that!" the boy cried, a deep blush spreading over his face. He shivered as he felt the older boy's lips still lingering on his throat, open and warm. "Someone will see..."
The redhead spoke between passionate kisses. "That's why...I moved us...So we...Could be alone..."
The blonde pushed him back slightly. "Not here. Please."
"Alright," he sighed heavily, right after giving the boy an affectionate kiss on the cheek.
Things had become so much more complicated since he had admitted his love. His devotion to the blonde had been so deep; he hadn't realized it for so long. It had taken nearly losing René to show him how deeply his feelings ran. The blonde was shy and innocent, but simply being together, alive and well, was enough for now. He had made Aime so happy merely by returning his feelings.
"We'll save that for later."
The blonde shook his head, still blushing deeply. "You're such a pervert...But I have my answer." A small, mischievous smile took the place of the previously bemused one. It was still a bit shy, despite his best efforts. "I'm glad you like it."
He could tell the redhead was about to start up again, so he leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a quick kiss. Before Aimé could even blink, the smaller boy had slipped away, leaving him feeling slightly frustrated. The blonde peered back through the folded tent flap.
"Don't forget to come out and watch me." And then he was gone.
The redhead paused a moment, deciding whether or not he would let the boy get away with that. He could easily give chase, but then...
"Attention, s'il vous plaît! The Feast of Fools will soon commence! Gather in the square, and the true festivities will begin!"
It was too late now. If he wanted to watch the blonde dance, he would have to leave him be.
"Little tease." With a shrug and a smirk, Axel exited the tent and moved with the crowd, listening to the jeers and gossip as they approached the square. There was plenty of dancing and singing, and soon, the old gypsy appeared in a blaze of colored smoke.
"Welcome, welcome, to the Festival of Fools!" Clopin shouted above the noise. "Once a year, we throw a party here in town!"
"Once a year we turn all parties upside down!" the crowd sang back in reply.
"Every man's a king and every king's a clown! Once again, it's topsy-turvy day!"
"Good, good! Good to see everyone is having fun!" He turned back toward the stage, winking. Axel could tell; he was motioning for his two dancers to prepare. It was almost time for Roxas to perform...
Looking around the crowd, as Clopin began the song again, he saw several things. Among many elaborate and colorful costumes, there was a rather large man, hunched over, with an incredible mask. From here, it looked almost indistinguishable from the rest of him. The reason Axel saw him was because, unlike the roaring, excited crowd around, this man seemed shy, anxious. Almost like he'd rather be somewhere else.
Then he glanced away nervously, and Axel followed his gaze to where Judge Frollo was seated, looking as disgusted and angry as ever. What was that about? Even for such a cruel man, wasn't this a day to celebrate?
"Now, see the finest pair in France! Make an entrance to entranced! That's right, you know the one! But this year, she has a partner! Dance, Esmerelda! Dance Roxas! Dance!"
With a flash, he was gone, and in his place stood a beautiful raven-haired woman, her skin warm and gleaming in the sunlight. And next to her, almost a stark contrast, stood Roxas, pale and blonde, glancing out at the crowd seductively as his partner did.
It was like a cracked mirror; two figures, moving in sync, and yet so utterly different, that you would never swear they were twins. Esmerelda took a step, bracelets jangling around her ankles, and Roxas followed with practiced ease and timing, copying her moves from the other side. The way they moved was as seductive as their glances, and as the mob cheered and cat-called to them, the two joined hands and turned on the balls of their feet, spinning gracefully. The fact that they contrasted so much in appearance...actually made them more fascinating...
It was beautiful, somehow. Axel couldn't take his eyes away, for they were trained on his secret lover, mesmerized by the movement of his hips and shoulders. Oh, the things he did to him, without even trying.
Esmerelda paused and whispered something in Roxas's ear. The blonde's face lit up with amusement, and he giggled, stepping back into the shadows a bit as the other gypsy pranced over to Judge Frollo's chair. The man looked decidely uncomfortable, especially when the woman practically climbed into his lap. The crowd sniggered and cat-called even louder.
"Qui est le fou?"
The old judge turned red in the face, but whether by embarrassment or anger, Axel couldn't say. He watched, chuckling with the rest of them, when Esmerelda leaned forward as if to kiss him, only to stuff his hat down on his face and dance away. As he glared at her, she gave him a mischievous pout, before bowing smugly and gesturing Roxas to come back. Grabbing a staff from the guard nearest to her, she wanted until Roxas did the same, then thrust it into the wood of the stage. Hiking up one smooth leg, each wrapped around the poles and spun until they came back down, before bowing to the crowd.
"Excellent!" Clopin said, bowing with them and accepting more and more coins as they were thrown at the stage. Axel imagined that most of those were for Esmerelda, but he also saw a few eager-looking women in the crowd and chuckled.
'Little do they know, he's mine.'
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, the pièce de résistance! It's time to crown the king of fools!"
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"Roxas, you were wonderful out there!"
The blonde blushed a little at his partner's praise, as the two slipped away to their respective tents to change costumes.
"Thank you. I'm nowhere near as good as you though," he said, bowing his head demurely. "You were the best, you know. You owned that stage, Esmerelda!"
The gypsy laughed, brushing a bit of her thick hair off her shoulder, as she reached up to remove her tiara. "Maybe, but the day belongs to both of us. I'm glad Clopin decided to let you dance. You have a real passion for it, I can tell."
Roxas smiled sheepishly, as she added, "Isn't that right, Jolly?"
The goat, who had joined them behind the stage, gave a grunt of what he assumed was approval. The blonde laughed, then disappeared behind the flap of his tent, immediately picking out a forest green tunic with light grey sleeves and brown hose. He knew he'd seen Axel watching, staring at him appreciatively from the crowd. Just the memory of how hungry he looked made the boy squirm a little, but in a good way. Though he was admittedly shier about their affair, he couldn't deny that he loved the effect he had on the redhead. It made him feel so wanted, so loved...
He hadn't known any sort of real love before meeting the older boy. Unlike Aimé, who was thrown out and content with living in the streets, René had come from a moderately wealthy family. He was used to being given many things, and yet he could never get the attention he really craved from his parents. They were too concerned with money to care for him by themselves, always leaving him in the care of a nursemaid or tutor.
And then came Luxord, his newest tutor. A man who, at first, appeared young and kind, but turned out to be vicious and perverse. The man had tried to touch him, to hurt him when his parents were out and much of the staff was occupied. René had begged his parents to believe him, pleaded with them, and yet they never batted an eye. The man continued to make advances on him, so that one night, he decided to simply ran away.
It was raining, dark and murky in the streets, as a fog settled down low in the cool night air. He ran, not many possessions packed in his bag, into the dark night, not knowing where he would go or how he would survive. But still, he ran on.
He passed a local tavern in his haste, and who should literally stumble upon him but Luxord?
He had chased the boy into an alley and cornered him, grabbed him. He began attacking him again, when suddenly he stopped.
A little dirty red-haired boy came in and defended him, drove the horrid man away somehow. And even after all that, he still rounded on Rene and mustered a rant at him for being so foolish. Paris was no place to be wandering around this time of night!
The redhead's harshness hadn't lasted long, though. Seeing Rene crying in the rain, cold and frightened and homeless, he sighed and helped the younger boy to his feet, then offered his poorly-sheltered little hideaway in the alley to him for the night.
The boy shuddered at the memory, but couldn't hep but smile at the end. That single night's stay became many, until the two of them just decided they would live together however they could.
So much had happened since then. They'd overcome a great darkness, been given new names, a new home, anything they could have ever needed by the gypsies. It was a pretty good life; good enough for him. But still, some days he worried about his friend. Aimé still remained so cynical and dark, perhaps even more now. The blonde could never really figure it out, but he had his own suspicions...
Roxas had no idea how long he'd been standing there, dressed and thinking to himself, when he heard loud jeers from the crowd. What was going on?
Poking his head out of the flap of the tent, he found himself suddenly afraid to go out. Something sounded off; very wrong. Should he go and see, or let Clopin and the others take care of it?
'But what about Esmerelda?'
Glancing over at her tent, Roxas noticed that she and Jolly were gone. Maybe they'd left already. He couldn't hear what the people had been shouting before, but as he turned back to look at the back of the big square stage, he froze for a second.
Why was it so quiet now?
He got closer to the stage and peered around nervously. He gasped at the angry look on both figures' faces, more so of the man who held all of Paris under his crushing grip.
"You, gypsy girl! Get down at once!"
"Yes, your honor. Just as soon as I free this poor creature."
"I forbid it!"
It was one thing to gently prod and tease the man on this day, but to outright defy him. That was dangerous, and had the potential to get everyone else in danger as well. Roxas crept further out, now pushing through the awestruck crowd, as the exchange continued. Most of them were so tall, though, that he couldn't see over top of them.
"You mistreat this poor boy the same way you mistreat my people! You speak of justice, yet your are cruel to those most in need of your help!"
"SILENCE!"
"JUSTICE!" he heard Esmerelda shout back. He could feel the rage in her just by hearing her voice. Once he got to a place where he could see, he looked up, shocked, to find a raised platform and a badly-beaten, grime-covered, hunchback man tied to it. The bell ringer?
He had heard stories told about him, all myths and legends of course. Never had he believed that the man actually existed. It was just too implausible. But there he was. It had to be him. He was so deformed and hunched, but something in his eyes held...fear? As Roxas approached the steps, unhindered by the shoving and bustling of the crowd around him, he suddenly ached to go to this man. He really didn't look evil or vile, despite his appearance.
Why would anyone treat him so cruelly?
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Axel had watched, entranced and horrified, as the scene unfolded before him. The bell ringer did exist! And what was more, he really did have the ugliest face in Paris! Esmerelda had brought the man up on stage with her, as her choice for the contest, and tried to 'unmask' him before the crowd. Only to see that it was no mask...
A scene of utter chaos had unfolded. First, Clopin tried to control the crowd, assuring them that this was indeed what they looked for in the King of Fools. He was acclaimed so quickly after that, but then...
One tomato had been enough to cause jeers to erupt from the crowds. Men had thrown things at him, laughed, even tied him down. Axel watched in horror as he finally rose, mustering enough rage to fight back, but it was too late. How they had tormented this man sickened him inside. He didn't move to stop them or help, just like the rest of his troupe. They only looked on sadly, or looked away, unable and unwilling to step up.
Then, Esmerelda appeared out of the crowd. She calmly approached this deformed, ugly man, and comforted him. Now she even looked ready to cut him loose. As she did, however, Axel's eye moved lower suddenly, catching a spiky tuft of blonde hair, moving out of the crowd and up toward the staircase.
'René, what are you doing?' he thought worriedly. 'No, no, no!'
But the blonde paid no heed, didn't even look his way. Instead, as Frollo and Esmerelda continued to exchange angry words, the boy climbed the steps slowly, seemingly ignorant of all around him.
Then Frollo ordered his men to move forward and arrest her. Axel instantly began to panic. Esmerelda could take care of herself, he knew, but Roxas was in the middle of all that confusion. The soldiers could go after him. He could be hurt.
"Do you want to protect him?"
Axel remembered the words vaguely as he sprang into action, pushing hurriedly through the crowd just as Esmerelda pulled a vanishing trick. The crowd gasped.
"Oh boys!"
The guards turned and began to pursue her elsewhere, and Roxas finally reached the top of those stairs, walking to the hunchback, who was kneeling and looking ashamed of himself. He seemed afraid, and tried to back away when the blonde approached. Axel couldn't hear what the boy said, but he watched as he took that deformed face in his hands and whispered gently to him.
The redhead focused on was getting to him in time, before complete chaos erupted.
Crowds-people and gypsies alike began scrambling, avoiding the soldiers and the confusion as Esmerelda foiled them at every turn.
"Ah!"
As he shoved through the throngs of scattered people, Axel's ears perked when he heard a startled cry from above. His eyes narrowed as he saw a soldier had quickly scaled the steps and grabbed Roxas's arm. The boy struggled against him, but he was not strong enough to break free.
"Let me go!"
No one else paid any heed. They were too busy running and gathering together. Axel was up the steps in seconds and grabbed the man forcefully by the back of his tunic. He pulled roughly and sent the man plummeting off the platform to the ground a little ways below. Unless he broke his neck, the fall wouldn't kill him. Hopefully.
That done, the redhead pushed Roxas behind him and drew out his long knife from his pocket, flashing it at anyone who tried to take the blonde away from him. A couple of men had noticed their cohort fall, and went to ambush the boys.
The blonde behind him was frantic. "Axel!"
"Stay behind me!" The redhead lunged at the first man who approached. No one saw the hunchback slip down the back of the platform and leave, going to face the wrath of his cruel master.
Axel stabbed a man in the arm and pushed him back, moving to block an attempt at his head. He failed, and suddenly was met with a throbbing pain that threatened to dissolve his consciousness. The last thing he heard was his lover screaming for him, as he fell into the darkness.