The woman entered the catacombs carrying a small bundle. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her without tripping on the wet ground. As she entered the heart of tunnels, men popped out from the skeletons, but this did not frighten her, she expected them.
"And just who are you?" One man asked.
The woman showed her face, her bright blue eyes glowing in the light. "Isabella Mare LaFille. I am here to see the King." Her Irish accent slightly coming out.
"Ah, I see. Well, come along, Madame." The one skeleton man led her into blinding brightness called the Court of Miracles.
"The King is in that cart right there, Madame." She nodded, "But please, try not to stay long, King Reginald is very busy these days and does not wish to be bothered most of the time."
Isabella nodded once more and let the man leave her. She sucked in a deep breath and let a few stray tears fall as she held the bundle even closer to her chest. Summoning all of her strength, she knocked on the door of the cart.
"…Yes?" A stony reply came. The woman walked into the cart slowly.
The King looked up from his position, slightly glaring at Isabella. "What is it you need, Madame?"
"You are the King of Beggars, Monsieur?"
"I am."
"Thank the Lord," She began to cry more openly now. "King of Gypsies, I need your help, please. I hear that you are responsible for taking care of our people?"
"Yes, you have heard right."
She sighed in relief. "Then you will help me?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but nodded. "I am not safe here, I have gone to painful lengths to keep myself safe for many years. My husband is a guard, sir, he will not hear of it if he finds out that his daughter is a full bred gypsy. Accidents have been made, accidents that are not my daughter's fault. She is in danger more so than I. I beg of you to help her; take care of her, I beg you…"
"Madame, I do not see why--"
"Please! This is all I ask of you. Please, keep my daughter safe, keep my baby safe."
He huffed. "I most certainly cannot deny such a request, Madame. I shall keep your child safe, and she will be raised here in safety. I will personally see to that."
A small boy then popped his head out of a section of the cart. He examined the woman with curiosity. He slowly walked out, his thin body making him look tall and lanky. His eyes were very dark, his hair was down to his shoulders, and his nose was a bit to big for a boy of approximately his age.
"Papa, what is wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong, Clopin. Please return to your chores, son." The boy shrugged and went back behind the scarf covered door.
"As I was saying," The King continued, "I will personally raise your child, but she will be treated as everyone else here. I hope that is clear…And, I do not want hear that information has been given to a certain Judge about our home or who is next in line to take charge of that home." He raised his eyebrows, "Because then we shall have to snuff out the traitor."
"I do understand this, sir. Thank you so much! You are kind and just, King of Beggars. Thank you…" She hugged the bundle once more. "Her name is Marianne Juliet, she is a quiet baby, I thank you again…"
She kissed the child, handed him the bundle and left the caravan, running out of the Court, catacombs, and into the cold November night, weeping for her daughter. She would not see her child again…
Young Clopin Trouillefou walked, once more, to his father, peeking over his shoulder. He was much to quick-witted and curious for a mere boy of six years and wanted to know what his father was doing.
"What are you holding, Papa?" he asked, eyeing the bundle.
The King sighed, pulling the young Prince close to him. "Clopin, did you ever want a little sister?" He asked.
"Well, I never thought about it before…I suppose it wouldn't be to bad. Why?"
"Son, you now have one. This is little Marianne Juliet. She is the newest member to our family. Take a look."
Clopin slightly moved the blankets to see the small child. The little baby's eyes opened, glazed with sleep. Her electric blue eyes looked right into his deep, dark brown ones and he smiled. The child cried out slightly, reaching for the young boy. Clopin took the baby in his arms, cradling her back to sleep as a small smile caressed her lips.
"She is pretty. I could actually get used to this "brother" business." He began humming one of his mother's lullaby's. "Yes, I think I like this very much, Papa. Sleep well, little Marianne Juliet, sleep well, little sister."
And with that, little Clopin took the baby away from his father and into his room to care for.
