"Come back here, harlot!" a guard yelled, racing after Enya, her lengthy vermilion hair trailing behind her. She slipped through the Notre Dame Square, easily eluding the maladroit guards who chased her at torpid speeds, comically tripping and falling over each other, their metal hats escaping their heads and covering their eyes. Mud streaked their once brilliant armor. Enya looked back, tickled by the guards' adversity. Gee, all of this unrest just for the frivolous crime of stealing half of a baguette. The poor girl hadn't eaten for days and carried no money on her; her last resort was her own desperation, drastic measures were required on her part in order to get what she needed to, quite literally, exist.

Okay, maybe cussing at the guards and beating them up wasn't the best way to get something that she wanted but it sure worked. She could've seduced the men into letting her get away, but that rarely succeeded and would probably make them irate (and probably consider her more of a harlot), plus she wasn't very good at it and considered it "weak" for someone like her to do such a foul thing. Better just to hit and run. Hell of a lot more effective too, considering she would be able to evade the guards faster than if she had beguiled them with her "charm" (which currently wasn't very relevant).

But at least she had gotten what she wanted and dodging the officials would be a breeze, given their physical and mental difficulties. Albeit, the situation really hadn't worked out according to plan…

Enya crept towards a wooden cart that held fresh baguettes. She looked around at her surroundings to make sure no one was currently watching- and especially no guards. She didn't see any.

She walked towards the stand, hand outstretched. She grabbed a small piece of bread just as two guards rounded a corner. The girl tried to abscond but they promptly caught her.

"Stupid woman," one of them jeered. "You'll learn your place soon enough."

Enya unleashed a string of garish curse words and squirmed about.

"Shut up!" the other guard yelled. "Take her away…"

"NEVER!" Enya screamed and wrenched herself loose. She backwards kicked the man's groin and elbowed him. He fell to his knees.

Enya fled the scene. No doubt they'd want her thrown in jail or executed or whatever it is they did to young women who stole. She looked back and saw the guard get up, seemingly recovered. Her eyes widened and she ran even faster.

The guards caught sight of her and ran towards her as well, creating vociferous pandemonium.

Enya rounded a corner and hid in a nearby alley. The guards ran past her, heedless of her hideout. She sighed and bit into her bread. She treasured food so much; it was literally an indulgence to have it. The small bottle of wine she kept under her skirt slipped out and she downed about a half of it.

Little was known of Enya's history. She had specified once or twice that she was from somewhere near Scotland or Ireland but didn't say how she got to France-or even Paris for that matter. Who was she going to tell anyway? The only slight acquaintances she had were a few besotted gypsies who had offered her a tent or lean-to to sleep under or an extra bottle of rum or wine and the occasional derisory scrap of food-or whatever was left of that scrap. But to digress, where had Enya come from? And what was she doing here?

Only Enya knew the truth about herself. And that truth, she would never reveal to anyone. Ever.

She was a siren.

Where she had originated from, folklore was often talked about. Not so much sirens (well, before all the hype) but stories about them existed and were spoken about. They were seen as evil, they were told that they lured sailors to their death with their seductive vocals and long, burnished fish tails.

But she had never done that. She didn't want too. She was dissimilar from her race. The masses didn't know that though, and didn't care whether or not she explained that she didn't want to hurt anyone-it's just that she was born of mermaid kin. Ignorance ruled over the public; it was futile to try to reason with them. Peasants were also enraged at Enya's race because of various sailors apparently dying at sea. Instead of thinking of the obvious causes that they perished while on a voyage across the ocean (storms, loss of materials, disease, sinking ship) the people turned towards the mythical tales and literally went on a witch-hunt for these framed sirens.

During this time, Enya kept her secret well under wraps and was even more secretive than before. She had never told anyone, but when the hype rose up, Enya turned extremely inward. She wouldn't socialize with her friends; they were all against her, much less the public. Everyone was against her race. It would mean her demise if they found out.

Enya was sure she was in the clear during that time until a few people sighted her in a lake, going for an evening swim. They had instantly told the officials and she was immediately sentenced to death the next day.

That night in the dungeon was a chillingly quiet one. The only sounds were high-ranking officials occasionally yelling orders at guards and the whistling breeze outside of her cell. That night she just knew it. It was the night of her death; there was nothing she could do about it.

Unless there was maybe a way to escape. Enya clearly remembered this process. There was a stick at the corner of her dungeon. She grabbed it and snuck up to the edge of the cell where the two guards stood. Reaching her left arm out, she hit the man and he fell over, presumably unconscious. Enya squealed and jumped back. The other guard went to his side to try to revive him and drew out his sword, pointing it towards Enya. She hit him with the stick quickly as well and he too fell.

Enya pulled the keys off the man's side and unlocked the cell with much difficulty. She freed herself from the cell and ran down the stone hallways, lit by torches that lined the walls. Sleeping guards awoke from the ruckus and chased after her, literally on her tail.

Enya ran into a door and desperately tried to open it. She pushed and pushed and pushed at it but it would not give way. Then she remembered she had the keys with her.

With a wary glance at her attackers who were drawing nearer and nearer she fumbled with the lock and finally managed to unlock the door. Enya slipped out and ran into the night's fog.

She could hear the guards behind her, and even through the thick fog she could see the torches they held. The orange flames dancing in the wind. Her eyes widened and she ran towards the forest, tears brimming her eyes.

She came upon the edge of a large river and tested the water with her foot. It was cold. But sooner or later she would have to leave. She took one look back and was scared by the constant yelling. Her attackers were getting closer. Without further thought, she jumped in regardless of the temperature and started swimming. Her legs forming together quickly to shape a fish's tail.

Driven out of the village for being a monster, a demon, a temptress, a coquette, strumpet, wanton, wench, and more often than not, a harlot. All based on assumptions.

So Enya escaped. By swimming.

Little known, sirens were extraordinarily fast swimmers. Once Enya was safe from the officials, she swam slower. She was one of the slowest of her race, which was nice sometimes. She could observe everything from a point of view in which she took in her surroundings.

Enya felt so liberated to be swimming the seas without anyone trying to hold her back or put any restrictions on her. Enya swam and stopped here and there to look for land and to see where it would take her. She was so curious and adventurous, and to finally have the opportunity to travel was greatly appreciated by her.

Why she had chosen France she didn't know. She arrived on the coast and hitched rides with weary travelers who were on their way to Paris. She didn't know Paris, but felt the need to go there.

Not too far away from where Enya hid, the Notre Dame Cathedral emitted a fervent, melodious sound from its high towers. Those were the bells. They rang every day, dawn, midday, and nightfall. It was really just another ritual for Paris. Few individuals thought to consider that maybe someone was ringing them, and some even thought the bells rung by themselves, but no one spent time in reverie about these sorts of things- it was considered silly to focus on such a, deemed by many, trivial thought. Only few knew about the actually bell-ringer, and he wasn't ever spoken about. He was merely a pariah; an outcast if you will. He dwelled in these towers alone, no connection to any other human being other than the person who took him in and the Archdeacon.

The reason the bell-ringer's connections with people were small and he never went outside was literally because of his physique. The poor boy was born with a hunched back, an enlarged eyebrow bone that ended up sticking out abnormally farther than the other covering half of one of his eyes, and a turned-up nose slightly pressed against his face. All of this wouldn't have stopped him from entering the exterior world if the person who raised him (referred to as 'Master') hadn't convinced the poor bell-ringer that he was ugly and that his hideousness was a sin and that people would dislike him if he went out into the real world. That was enough to scare the dear boy into staying in the confines of the tower, but it wasn't enough to keep him from wondering what it was like to live amongst the people.

His Master, named Frollo, was the Minister of Justice and a cruel, religious man who at first tried to drown the boy when he was found as a baby because his appearance scared him. Luckily the Archdeacon stopped him in order to save his soul, but Frollo remained cruel towards the boy whom he had hatefully named "Quasimodo," meaning, "partially formed".

So little Quasimodo grew up within stonewalls, hungering for the outside world. All his life he had mused…

What's out there?

Enya finished the bread and the rest of her wine and peeked around a corner to maker sure the guards were gone. She gave a sigh of relief and entered into the square. She remembered that when she was eating her bread she had heard the euphonious sounds of the bells from the Notre Dame Cathedral. Ah, she loved those bells. To everyone else they were just a simple sound but she had fallen in love with them. They were so honeyed, so atmospheric. It was almost as if it brought her right into the moment when she heard them. Enya had to figure out who was ringing them, who could possibly be producing such a beautifully mellifluous sound. Such a sound that could make someone stop and think and just be in the moment and feel as if they could see time passing in front of them. Such a sound was entrancing.

Enya rushed towards the Cathedral, eager to find out where the sound was coming from, eager to know the person who could create such an ensorcell sound.

She walked slowly into the Cathedral, obviously wanting to be mannerly. It was a church, after all. She slipped through the back of the Cathedral and found a small hallway that held a flight of a narrow spiral stairs.

These must lead up to the belltower! Enya thought, looking up. She rushed up them, only to realize they were much higher, and that there were seemingly thousands of steps. She needed to calm her avidity a bit and walk slowly up the steps. Enya did so.

She finally got to the top. Even walking the steps was arduous. Her inquiry got the best of her and she looked around.

Quasimodo sat polishing a bell in equanimity. He whistled quietly to himself and gaped at the beauty of the iron instrument. It was at times like this he forgot about his malformations and focused on the aesthetics of other things. He relished this moment of the day. He didn't have to focus on anything. It could just be him and the bells. All of the sudden he heard faint footsteps.

They were much less baleful than Frollo's.

They were definitely not Frollo's.

Who was there?

Just a note: Enya hasn't claimed sanctuary yet. She's literally just visiting the bell tower in this specific chapter. This is sort of how the story opens. You'll find out in following chapters how she ends up claiming sanctuary. Just wanted to clear that up a bit…

Expect updates to occur every weekend. That's when I have free time usually. If I miss a weekend or updates occur earlier it's just because of modifications to my schedule. I'll try to keep chapters as constant as I can though.

Right now you can expect early updates. I'm on my break and vacation-I'll be updating a lot.

Thanks to all of you who are reading! Please review!

-HunchbackOfNotreDame (or just call me Bella)