note: Hi, this is my first ever fanfic, so I super appreciate any feedback. I love reviews, so please leave them, even if it's critisizing just don't be plain rude. Also, you are going to notice an EXTREME lack of the original heroes from the movies. Sorry, it was the only way to make my plot work.

Scene 1: The Phoenix's Flight

Esmeralda slipped beneath the stage, unnoticed in her simple cloak by the masses of festival-goers crowding around. Clopin has their attention. She thought. Good. She positioned herself and slipped the cloak off smoothly to reveal her red dress, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, preparing herself. The wait was always the hardest part of any performance, the anticipation before the rush. Today's wait was particularly agonizing as she crouched there in the dark, waiting to burst free of this tiny cage and spread her wings. She could hear the crowd chattering amongst themselves excitedly as Clopin brought them ever closer toward the climax of the festival, "Come one! Come all! Hurry, hurry, here's your chance, See the mystery and romance! Come one! Come all! See the finest girl in France make an entrance to entrance- Danse la Esmeralda..." She could feel the crowd holding it's collective breath- She held hers along with it, her heart racing. "DANSE!"

It all happened in a rush. The smoke that erupted across the stage cloaked everything. No one saw the trap door take Clopin down below to where Esmeralda waited; No one saw her rise in his place, or Clopin replacing the door behind her. To the audience, it was simply magic. And in a way it was. For now came the time to spread her wings and fly, and for Esmeralda, that freedom was the greatest magic in the world.

To dance often was like being in a trance. The rest of the world really didn't seem to exist. There were no rules, no boundaries, often there was hardly any thought. There was only the dance. For days like today, she had memorized all her movements by heart, and so she could just let her body flow in a well remembered pattern, natural as breathing, and just as vital. The awed gasps and cheers of her admirer's were quite welcome sounds, an accompaniment to the music that moved with her body. The taunts of men, mostly soldiers who had tormented her people for years, were less welcome but much expected. Why not let them enjoy the view? It was meant to be enticing after all. But her pride got the better of her. She simply had to taunt back. She surveyed the crowd, looking for someone to pick on. It would make a nice addition to the act anyway. She spotted a young man in a teal cloak - the same boy she had met earlier that day when he'd stumbled, very anxious and apologetic, into her dressing tent - standing near the stage. He still looked so awkward and innocent there, so she paused in her search to give him a reassuring wink before coming out of a split she hadn't really noticed she was in before it elicited gasps from her audience. Then she saw him. Judge Frollo, "keeper of peace", "hand of justice" and tormentor of gypsies. Or anyone with a different opinion or way of life really. He sat on a cushioned chair, on a shaded platform connected to the catwalk. How cozily the oppressors live. She thought, and smiled to herself. All thought of consequence left her. Frollo, disgruntled as he seemed about it, was here as a public official to oversee the festival's proceedings. Well, she would see to it he truly saw those proceedings- up close and personal. She glided down the catwalk and took up a seductive pose seated on the railing that divided this prestigious man of God from the common riffraff, draped her scarf around his neck, and leaned in, pulling him closer as if for a kiss. She could see the shock and desire on his face- like that more becoming of a young boy than an old man. It disgusted but did not surprise her. She was used to being gaped at and had learned to hide her feelings well. She kept her composure, still smiling seductively, then pulled his hat down over his eyes and pranced away, making sure he had his sight and whatever wits he had about him again before taking a spear from a stunned guard, running for the heart of the stage, and stabbing the tip of the spear into the wood, vaulted herself onto it, wrapping her legs around and spinning gracefully to the ground again, feeling the wind catch her spirit and fuel her fire. To the last beat of the music, she nodded her head to the audience. Yes, I am free. Unlimited. I am my dance.

xxx

It was, she told herself proudly, only Clopin's pleas that could have ever made her leave that night. This unfamiliar caravan had taken her in with no hesitation. They knew who she was. They knew why she must leave Paris immediately.

xxx

"Esmeralda! Thank goodness you're safe!" She had only just arrived home in the Court of Miracles when Clopin grasped her wrist firmly and started to lead her to a group of travellers Esmeralda recognized as having come to perform for the festival. She pulled her wrist free and stopped in her tracks.

"Clopin, what's going on?"

"I've arranged for you to leave France. Tonight. The sooner the better, I've already packed the nessecities for you." She gaped at him, disbelieving.

"Leave France? But why?" She knew why, but she couldn't understand it.

"Frollo is already looking for you. We can't waste any time-"

"So you want me to RUN?" Her pride flared. She was no coward.

"You caused too much of a stir at the festival, Frollo won't let you live if he finds you." Clopin's voice was firm, his eyes worried. He wanted Esmeralda to understand how important this was. His words reminded her of the Archdeacon.

xxx

"You caused quite a stir at the festival. It would be unwise to arouse Frollo's anger further." What about her anger? She wondered. Or the anger of all the other victim's of Frollo's cruelty? Did their anger mean nothing? That poor boy had been abused by the crowd as no other King of Fools before. The contest was meant for a good laugh, but on both sides. Never had she dreamed when she pulled her shy admirer on stage what he would have to endure. It would have angered her in any situation, but for this she felt personally responsible. She had pulled him into this. She had to get him out. And so she had freed him from his bonds, attempted to clean him up a little, before Frollo opened his ever condemning mouth. The very sound of his voice breaking through the silence irked her, but his command, to step down from the stage, allow the torture to continue, infuriated her and broke through all her careful composure. She spoke of justice, called Frollo out on all his cruelties. "Silence!" he commanded. "JUSTICE!" she cried. And then her fate was sealed. She had dared to openly defy Frollo. All there was for it was to make the most dazzling escape possible, leave the citizens of Paris in awe with her declarations so that they might be remembered.

xxx

"I can't run away. If I leave, everything I said today-"

"Will be forgotten." Clopin cut her off. "And In time it will be safe for you to return home to the Court of Miracles." Esmeralda was silent. She knew he was right, but that was just it. She didn't want her words forgotten. She didn't want her risk to be for nothing. There was, however, that other problem- one she hadn't thought all that worrying initially, but still it nagged at the back of her mind.

xxx

In the cathedral, after her brief "fight" with the flirtatious Captain Phoebus and the Archdeacon's insistence upon her safety in the sanctity of the church, Frollo had caught her alone, binding her wrists behind her back. "You think you've outwitted me, but I'm a patient man, and gypsies don't do well inside stone walls." His voice was low in her ear, his breath like that of a cold and lonely grave. His grip on her wrists was clammy, and Esmeralda had to wonder momentarily if he was a form of Death itself, as he took lives mercilessly for his own self-righteous ideals. Then he leaned in closer, closing his dark eyes and burying his face in her hair, inhaling deeply. Esmeralda tensed up, holding her own breath for a moment, trying not to show any sign of fear. It would not help her. She found her voice and squeezed as much venom into it as she could through the internalized panic. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "I was just imagining a rope," Frollo lied smoothly "around that beautiful neck." He caressed her neck as he spoke, or maybe it was more of a clawing motion, threatening as it was. The fear broke again to fury and Esmeralda tore away from him, finding strength in her voice again. "I know what you were imagining," she spat. Frollo surveyed her, his expression smoothing again from surprise at her escape to a cool righteousness. He steepled his fingers, a calculating gesture. "Such a clever witch. So typical of your kind to twist the truth, to cloud the mind with unholy thoughts." Esmeralda recoiled, seeing the "unholy thoughts" play across his face. "Well, no matter." He said, casually making his way to the grand doors. "You've chosen a magnificent prison, but it is a prison nonetheless. Set one foot outside, and you're mine."

xxx

She had tried to play it off. An old priest with a fantasy he could never act on in his station. It would pass, she told herself. Still, his touch, his voice, features of a merciless and unforgiving Death haunted her, and chilled her to the bone. Could she really let that fear make her run, though?

"Esmeralda, please, for me," Clopin begged, seeing the conflict in her expression. She didn't want to run. She couldn't. Fear of Death in whatever form it came for her couldn't make her leave her home. But could Clopin's fear sway her? "I don't want to ask you to stay hidden here," he said. "but I can't risk losing you. Take this chance to see the world. When it is safe for you to return, I will send for you. I promise."

xxx

That promise was what she held on to as she wandered through the night with this new band to the middle east. She would see the world, and she would return. She had Clopin's word for it.