Author's Note: A long while back, I was asked to write a fanfic of the Hunchback of Notre Dame from the perspective of Esmeralda and Phoebus, which promotes the relationship between the two. The fact that I am the author of several books of my own consumed my attention for the intervening time, and though I had begun a few times while focusing on my original content, and it has now come time, upon the sixth of January, the Feast of Fools itself, that I am compelled to share what I created.

I have maintained some faithfulness both to the original script of the movie, including the considerably controversial term "gypsy" which is embraced by some tribes of Roma and Sinti and hated by others. I think for the purposes of keeping the world of the story authentic, the word should maintain its place both because it is a word based on the misconstrued origins of the gypsies, and because there are many people who wear it as a badge of honor, and I hope to honor them, as well.

Please enjoy what I have to offer you, as it was crafted with those hungry for it in mind, and I wish most of all to satisfy the hungry.

Chapter 1:

Amid dynastic upheaval and the constant struggle to survive, a message arrived in the tent of Captain Phoebus de Chateaupers, currently in command of His Majesty King Louis XI of France's corps of archers.

Though by degrees Phoebus had become accustomed to the life on campaign, receiving a letter from Paris lifted his spirits. He hadn't been back to the city in years, and he missed his family a great deal. Alas, this missive was not from his family. Instead, it bore the official seal of the highest minister of Justice in Paris: one Dom Claude Frollo.

He peered at the seal for a long while before he broke it. It was made in black ink, which served to conjure up memories of that dour man, the brother of his childhood friend Jehan. Though at times he had been friendly, the esteemed Dom Claude had been a man of the shadows, where he would spend long hours in contemplation.

The centerpiece of the seal was a cross, but from each of the outstretched 'arms' of the cross hung a scale. That was… different… but it did put across Frollo's point quite vividly.

Phoebus broke open the letter to examine its contents. Within he found a summons, which asked for him to report to Paris and assist Minister Frollo in an endeavor of grave import.

He smoothed the vellum out on the table and set a candle on one corner, then his inkwell on another. What could Frollo need of him? The message did not avail him of solid answers, but he knew Frollo well enough to know that he never took anything lightly. He would not ask for Phoebus's help unless it was as he said, and there was a matter of grave import which needed addressing.

Especially due to Phoebus's own integral role in the war effort, it must be a serious calamity that would befall the city without Phoebus's personal intervention. He'd never fancied himself much of a hero, but he was a good enough servant to his purpose.

The very fact that he'd been summoned away from the war gave him pause, however. How were his superiors meant to respond to his sudden disappearance from the ranks? They may very well object, as Claude Frollo may be a preeminently important name within the limits of Paris, but they were not in Paris.

He sighed, and glanced around his tent. He wouldn't have much of his own to take back with him to Paris, but perhaps it was good to travel light.

Missive in hand, he strode out of his tent and presented himself before his superiors. Not one of their faces betrayed their opinion of his being called off the field, and so despite the fact he could not even be certain he would go, while he waited for them to betray some inkling of an opinion, he reflected what it may be like if he were to return to the city.

He would most likely see old friends, even the young maiden, his cousin Fleur de Lys de Gondelaurier who had been promised to him since they were children. Actually… it occurred to him that he hadn't actually seen her since long before he actually left for the wars… what was she like?

"It seems that you are required in the city of Paris," said one General, and passed the letter along to another.

"We can replace you with another captain, though I do not think he can replicate your skill, or your bravery, Chateaupers," another of the generals said, and passed it along the line, but he was apparently the last who cared to look.

Thus to Phoebus's surprise, that very day he was packing up his belongings and retreating from the front lines with a somewhat bewildered air about him. He dug out an old map of Paris and started to pore over it, looking for the town house his parents had bought for him and attempting to guess how he was going to get there from the gate they let him into the city through… though of course, he was uncertain exactly where that would be.

The journey itself did not last as long as he had expected, but that was more than likely due to the fact that he had marched on the way to the front lines, but on the way from them, he rode astride his white charger, Achilles.

The thought of the faithful horse brought a smile to his face and he patted the creature's neck. He'd named him after his older brother, Achille, who had taken it in characteristic de Chateaupers style, with a dashing grin and a laugh at his own expense. For all the mockery he suffered at his waggish brother's hands, Phoebus found himself missing both Achille and their similarly humorous sister.

The rolling French countryside was a soothing sight, and it gave him time to reflect on why he had chosen this life: it was the one way he could see to protect the peacefulness others enjoyed. Even if it meant staring into the abyss on a frequent basis, it was the price he had agreed to pay.

The fresh air and high spirits quickly gave way to the return of the overbearing weight of duty the instant he saw the outer limits of Paris. He could see the walls, and the tops of Notre Dame de Paris's towers, as well as the Palace of Justice, among the tallest buildings in the city.

Once he was within, the city, however, both buildings were obscured from view by the buildings crammed in along every street he travelled up and down.

Slightly bewildered, Phoebus referred to the map he'd brought with him, but none of the roads corresponded with the ones he saw written out on the vellum in his hands.

Still worse, whenever one of the streets did yield a clue, he found that it had been abridged by another which had no counterpart to the map he held.

At last, after what felt like hours of exploring the city to no avail, he bunched the map up and tossed it into the gutter. "You leave town for a couple of decades and they change everything!" he noted to Achilles in his exasperation.

To his credit, the horse appeared to gather his master's meaning, or at least recognized the tone of his voice.

In the midst of his frustration, Phoebus caught sight of two soldiers on patrol, and his eyes lit up. "Excuse me!" he said, leaning forward and holding up one finger as he tried to get their attention. "I'm looking for the Palace of Justice, could you—?" the soldiers had not recognized he was speaking, in the least, instead they had continued on their way without once turning their heads, no matter how quickly Phoebus had spoken. "Hmm…" he frowned, standing up straight again. "I guess not…"

Once he became this city's Captain of the Guard, he would make it a priority to train the soldiers for better public relations! No wonder Claude Frollo had thought it was time for a change in command! Whoever he was replacing had done a disappointing job with the ranks, to say the least.

Then again he could only make reforms if he could actually find the Palace of Justice, and he wasn't making the least bit of headway on that endeavor. At this rate, he'd probably be presumed dead before that ever happened.

He heard music just a bit further down the street, and decided that was his best hope for some stress relief. He led Achilles to the street corner, where street performers were playing, accompanied by a dancing goat.

What a charming little creature!

He tossed a few coins into a hat beside the goat. Someone at least deserved payment for training the goat to dance! He heard the jingling of a tambourine and looked up to find the flashing green eyes of a dancer looking directly into his eyes.

Those eyes were captivating… as was her smile. She smirked at him with a cocky lowering of her lashes and a sway of her hips accompanied by a tap on her tambourine.

She hadn't spoken a word, but a thousand phrases might as well have been whispered in his ear, all of which made his armor feel just a little bit tighter. He dropped another coin into that hat of hers as surely as if he'd been hypnotized, but he didn't really care.

His heart pounded as a few more people arrived, and the dancer shifted from meeting his gaze to twirling about for all to see. It was disappointing in a way, except that now he got to really watch her move.

No staid noblewoman would ever "lower" herself to that behavior, but it was such a waste. The girl's dance was enchanting. Her quick-moving feet carrying her along for an array of skillful movements that made Phoebus stare.

When she stopped, it was to gracefully pick up the hat for collecting coins and held it out before every member of her audience. Each time she would give the gobsmacked Parisian a smile, her lashes half-obscuring her eyes as she did.

Phoebus's grip tightened on Achilles's reins, and struggled to keep signs of how uncomfortable his armor was getting from those around him. He swallowed as the woman approached him and gave him that look directly.

It was no use saying he'd already paid. He couldn't have mustered the words, anyway, so he dipped into his armor and gave her two more coins.

She drew back, and was just preparing for another dance when an urchin child whistled at them and the dancer gasped.

The Parisians all followed the street performers' gazes and saw that the soldiers who had ignored Phoebus minutes before were returning. What was the trouble with that?

He found out a moment later when the soldiers walked right past him and one of them yanked the hat out of the dancer's hands. Her coins went spilling everywhere as they demanded to know where her money had come from.

"For your information, I earned it!" the dancer spat at them while Phoebus attempted to decide why this encounter had even happened.

"Gypsies don't earn money!" one of the guards scoffed, while the other went to seize her.

"They steal it!" he said in a voice that marked him as something of a buffoon.

"You'd know a lot about stealing!" the dancer snarled, and jerked herself free.

Phoebus looked at Achilles. His brain had begun to work again, but now he was stuck fumbling through uncertainties. Was this person an actual thief? Had these fellows caught her committing theft previously? He could not be absolutely certain whether it was wise to intervene, and he did not wish to spend his first day back in Paris mucking about and making himself look like an imbecile.

"Troublemaker, eh?" one of the guards asked the dancer, and received a kick to the chin.

Just as the second man was threatening the dancer with time in the stocks, the goat which had been dancing so sweetly attacked both guards, giving the dancer time to flee with her friends.

At last, Phoebus found an idea in his big empty head, and dragged Achilles so that he blocked the street just as the soldiers attempted to pursue the dancer. Once one of them had fallen flat against the ground in just the right spot, another idea occurred to Phoebus.

"Achilles," he said, giving the horse a serious look directly in the eyes, "sit."

The horse had always relished the knowledge that he'd gotten a command correct, so he immediately sat atop the fallen soldier, who immediately began to beg that he get off.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Phoebus leaned against Achilles and smirked down at the trapped man, "Naughty horse! Naughty!" he playfully scolded Achilles, who gave him a look as if he were mildly amused. "He's just impossible," Phoebus concluded, leaning on Achilles's shoulder and smirking down at the trapped man. "Really, I can't take him anywhere!"

"I'll teach you a lesson, peasant!" the second soldier, who had unfortunately not been trapped, was snarling at Phoebus and brandishing what at first he'd expected to be a sword, but which was in fact a mere dagger.

Well, he couldn't just let violent idiots make yet another scene, especially not when they might hurt his horse!

He swept his cape out of the way and let his armor glint golden in the sunlight, while drawing his sword and angling it toward the man who'd dared to threaten him. "You were saying… lieutenant?" he smirked at the man and watched him fumble over himself to salute, which in his clumsiness resulted in a clang from where his helmet whacked his brow. "At your service, sir!" the soldier finally managed.

Phoebus knelt beside the still-trapped soldier and just to teach him a lesson, planted his sword right in front of his face. These soldiers were going to learn respect, it was just a matter of how much fun Phoebus got to have along the way!

"Now, I know you've got a lot on your mind, right now, but… the Palace of Justice…"

In no time, the two soldiers who had originally completely ignored him were doing all they could to impress him with their loyalty as they made way for him to walk through busy streets.

Since neither of them were actually looking at him, he paused and gathered up the money the street performers had earned and subsequently dropped.

As he followed the men, he caught sight of a beggar smoking in the alley he was about to pass through. Well… even if there was no way to find the people who had originally earned it, he could at least make sure that someone in need got it.

It was starting to become much easier to imagine the good Phoebus could do in this city. He dared to think that Frollo had made an excellent choice in who to summon. Together, with Frollo's expertise in the actual character of Paris, and Phoebus's people skills. As kind as Frollo was, he'd never really been so great with people…

When he got his first sight of the Palace of Justice in years, he realized he hadn't imagined how imposing it looked in his youthful naïveté. It really looked like something out of a romance, where the knight had to venture into the dark castle of a wicked knight and fight for his life, or at least a fair maiden.

He really hoped he got over that while working there.