Chapter 1

"For no one is cast off by the Lord forever. Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone."

Lamentations 3:31-33

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A blood-curdling scream echoed through the halls of the two story home just as a clash of lightning whipped through the air. The screams developed into haunting sobs, followed with the sound of urgent footsteps running towards the screams.

Frederick de Chataupers appeared in the doorway of his daughter's nursery, wide brown eyes staring at his wife's slumped form beside her crib. He immediately rushed to her, gathering her in his arms and helping her to his feet.

"Chandra, what-" He began but the sound of glass crunching underneath his boot brought his gaze downward then frantically around the room.

One look into the empty crib and the broken window inside of his daughter's room and his own heart plummeted into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him as if he had been delivered a painful blow. Glass was everywhere, on the floor, even inside the crib and if he had looked hard enough, he would have seen a large rock probably hiding in a dark corner of the room.

Someone had broken into the nursery and taken his newborn.

"No... No!" He shouted the final word, the woman in his arms weeping as her small form trembled against the larger man.

"Father...?" A soft voice drew their attention to the doorway.

The five year old boy rubbed his eyes tiredly for only a moment before he took in the scene before him; his father's anguished expression, his mother's tears, his sister's empty crib, the broken window.

"What's wrong with mother?" He questioned curiously.

"Go back to bed, Phoebus," His father ordered as calmly as his bed could.

"Where's Se-"

"Bed! Now!" Frederick barked, startling Phoebus who nearly leapt at the harshness of his father's voice.

Frederick didn't wait for his son to obey and released his wife. His long legs only had to make a few angry strides before he reached the door and pushed past Phoebus, the boy just managing to press his back against the door and out of his father's way.

Phoebus watched as his frantic father began to ready himself for his horse. Frederick was out the door in minutes, leaving Phoebus alone with his crying mother. He turned his gaze back into the room, his little heart racing at the sudden display of emotion from his usually calm and collected father; he had never seen him like that before.

And his mother... He had never known mothers could even cry. He walked into the room slowly and quietly, watching as she remained collapsed on the floor beside his sister's crib, gripping the wooden bars as if she were imprisoned.

"Mother...?" Phoebus spoke quietly.

Chandra's face was concealed by her long, ebony locks though he didn't need to see her face to know she was still crying. The woman let go of her death grip of the crib's bars long enough to wipe away her tears, forcing a pathetic smile for her son.

"You heard your father, Phoebus," She reprimanded him kindly though her voice trembled, "Off to bed, you."

Phoebus didn't budge, his own emotions beginning to take over. He looked towards the crib then back at his mother.

"Where's Selene?"

Chandra stared at Phoebus, fresh tears pouring out of her cheeks. She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled her son almost roughly into her arms, burying her face in his golden locks and sobbed quietly as she clung to him.

Phoebus returned his mother's embrace, his eyes stinging with tears. He closed his eyes as he took in his mother's comforting scent, his tears running down his round cheeks silently.

Selene…

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"Rubina, will you hush up that child?!" The gypsy man demanded frantically, his eyes wide with fear as they ran through the dark city of Paris, the sound of a lone horse's hooves echoing behind them.

Rain was pouring down on them, Rubina struggled to keep the baby both quiet and as dry as possible. Their kidnapping would be for naught if they brought back a dead child. She held the child close to her chest, wrapping her colorful garbs around the already blanketed baby.

"I'm trying, Sacha," His wife countered, on the verge of tears as the bundle in her arms continued to cry amongst the chaos she had woken into. Wrapping her up closer, she muffled the child's screams against her, hoping it would be enough to silence her.

"We're almost to the hideout," He assured her, "This way! He's getting close!"

Rubina was on the brink of giving up at this point, delivering the child back and accepting her death sentence for kidnapping a soldier's daughter. But she followed her husband regardless, running until her legs felt as if they had been lit on fire.

The sound of hooves were slowly fading, allowing them room to breathe. After a while, the sound was completely gone. They had lost him and were able to enter the Court of Miracles without being seen.

As they made their way through the catacombs, the pair walked in silence to their home. When they arrived, the hideout was full of gypsies still awake. Ignoring the looks they received at the obvious bundle in Rubina's arms, they rushed past the first section of the Court of Miracles; one would call it a gypsy's market.

The second section of the hideout consisted mainly of forts, tents and huts, small enough for maybe three people maximum but it was a home nonetheless. The warmth of their humble household and the closing of the door behind them was like a wave of relief to both of them. But there was no time to celebrate just yet.

"Get yourself out of those wet clothes, my dear," Sacha spoke softly to his wife, his brown eyes filled with worry.

But the woman was too preoccupied removing the wet cloth from the crying child and replacing it with dry blankets as her husband lit a lantern in the dark room. The child's cries were drowning out as the warmth of the house surrounded her, the sound of gentle voices replacing the violent clashes of lightning that had startled her not too long ago.

Sacha stood behind his wife, looking over her shoulder at the child. This was the first time they had truly been able to look at her. Before this moment, they had not known if she was even a girl or boy. It was plain to see that she was not only a girl but one that looked as if she had been hand-carved by God himself.

"Oh, Sacha," Rubina whispered as she cradled the child in her arms, "She's... She's..."

Unable to finish, Rubina placed a tender kiss on the girl's ivory forehead. She ran her hands gently through the few charcoal locks that graced her delicate head.

"What's this...?" Sacha brought his hand to the child's neck, pulling out a glimpse of what looked like silver.

They examined it closely; it was a silver necklace, a crescent moon pendant hanging from it. Rubina frowned softly as Sacha began to gently remove it, a tense silence between them. It was only a reminder of the social status of the child they had chosen; the parents of this child would not be ones they could stand against were they caught.

Placing it in his pocket, Sacha turned his attention back to the child and spoke to take the tension away from his wife's features.

"What will we name her?"

The child cooed quietly, peering up at them with large eyes as blue and deep as the ocean itself. They would no doubt someday be even more beautiful when they sparkled with human knowledge and true emotion.

Rubina thought for only a moment before the child grasped her finger tightly, a small forming on her lips as she whispered.

"Safira."

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10 Years Later

Captain Frederick stared hard into the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back tightly; the crackle of the wood and sparks being the only noise in the room as his wife sat in a nearby chair and sewed silently. No words needed to be spoken.

Though Selene's disappearance had brought a somberness to the house, no time of the year was more devastating than the day of her birth. It was the day she had been both given to the happy couple then cruelly snatched away.

Having spent years frantically and almost violently searching for her, age came swiftly to Frederick. He had almost become a shell of a man. He was easily irate and solemn to everyone except his wife and his son. Albeit his soft spot for his family, they still experienced first-hand how empty he felt without his daughter.

Even now, with Phoebus close to the age, he had been hesitant to pursue his dreams of becoming a soldier like his father in the near future. Having been assured to not hold back or feel guilty about leaving his parents, he promised himself he would become the best soldier he could be in the hopes that someday he may be the one to find Selene and bring her back home.

"Happy Birthday, Selene," Frederick whispered into the fire so lowly that not even his wife had heard as she whispered her own wishes tearfully.

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Safira ran through the Court of Miracles, her laughter echoing as she ducked and dodged through the obstacles of people and their tasks. Eyes followed her as well as shaking of their heads for it was typical Safira behavior to run recklessly through the Court of Miracles as if she were the only person living there.

What could they expect from a child who had never left the Court of Miracles especially on a day like today? Today was her tenth birthday and she was sure her parents would allow her to attend the Festival of Fools. Granted, they had said no each previous year but she had a good feeling about this year. Surely they would this time.

Every year it had been the same excuse.

You're too young.

It's dangerous out of the Court of Miracles.

Your father (or mother) needs you here.

Not this year. This year, both Rubina and Sacha were performing in the Festival of Fools and Safira refused to stay here alone.

As she continued to run towards her home, she failed to notice a toy that had been left by a careless gypsy child and tripped over it. She grunted as she landed on her stomach and could hear the deep chuckle of a man.

Pushing herself up off the ground, she looked over her shoulder and onto the smug face of Clopin Trouillefou. Rolling her eyes, Safira stood and dusted herself off as he began to speak.

"Running again, Safira?"

"What do you want, Clopin?" She asked, her bored tone amusing him.

"You know, you really shouldn't run," He continued as if he hadn't heard her, "You obviously saw what happens when you do."

"That," She pointed to the ground, "happened because someone left that there. Not because I was running."

"And it tripped you because you were running," He smirked back.

Safira scowled at him furiously. Of all the days she had to run into him, it had to be on her birthday. Though Clopin had never been unkind to her, he was always eager to give her a hard time. It was no doubt because of how easily she was angered or irritated. She didn't realize it but the twenty two year old had a soft spot for her that stemmed from sympathy.

"Look, because it's your birthday," He said as if reading her mind, "I'll let you off with a warning this time. But tomorrow you won't be so lucky-"

With a scoff, she left him with an unfinished sentence and continued to run home. Clopin watched her run for a while before he, too, prepared for the Festival of Fools.

Safira skidded to a stop when she reached her home, clearing her throat and smoothing out any creases on her clothes before entering calmly. Despite her calm exterior, her heart was pounding when she saw her father sitting on his chair and sewing his costume while her mother did the same.

Her presence was immediately noticed as she entered the tiny hut, a warm smile spreading on each of her parent's faces. Both parents were currently sewing their costumes for the festival but the sound of their daughter walking through the door brought them to a stop.

"There's the birthday girl," Sacha spoke affectionately, dropping his task to open his arms wide for his daughter. He was rewarded with a fierce hug and a kiss on his cheek before she turned to her mother.

"Happy birthday, dear," Rubina kissed her daughter's forehead.

But both parents returned to their task quickly soon after. She watched them silently for a moment, trying to figure out a way to bring up the conversation. She had planned it all in her head but having to actually do it was a different story.

Well, here it goes, She thought to herself nervously.

"Mother? Father?"

"Yes, dear?" They responded in unison, their eyes focused on what they were doing.

"I was wondering..." She began, now beginning to fidget nervously, "Since it is my birthday-"

"Oh, don't think we've forgotten your birthday present!" Her mother suddenly exclaimed before rushing to the other side of the room.

"N-No, I don't mean that-"

"It's in here somewhere," Rubina continued shuffling through their items, "Sacha, where did you put it?"

"You had it last, my dear," He spoke gently as he fixed the bells on his costume.

"No, mother, father," Safira began again, frustration seeping into her tone, "I'm trying to tell you something."

"What is it, dear?" Rubina frowned as she turned to face Safira, Sacha's eyes also peering up from his work as they both caught the slight distress in their daughter's tone.

She had been flustered into forgetting the script she had rehearsed in her mind repeatedly.

"I want to go to the Festival of Fools!" She blurted out quickly, keeping her eyes mostly on her mother.

She received nothing. No response. No expression. She stared at her mother who merely stared back curiously for a moment before a warm smile spread on her face, bringing a nervous laugh out of Safira. Rubina approached her daughter, still smiling.

"Oh, darling," Rubina chuckled gently, bringing her hands to cup her daughter's face, "Darling, darling, darling... No."

Safira's smile was wiped off immediately. Rubina studied her daughter's face for a moment before she let her go and returned to what she had been doing when Safira came in; the birthday present completely forgotten.

"W-Why?" Safira spoke, trying her best to keep her voice from trembling. She looked at her father who guiltily kept his eyes on his sewing.

"It's much too dangerous-"

"You're going," Safira interrupted defiantly, bringing their attention to her fully once again for she had never interrupted them when speaking before and much less with such a tone.

"Your father and I are adults and can handle ourselves," Rubina continued patiently, her neutral expression only fueling Safira's rage.

"So when will I be able to go?" She finally asked, her eyes darting to both of them, "When will I be able to outside ever?! Do you know that I am the only one of my friends who hasn't-"

"Yes, Safira, we are aware-"

"Then why?! Why can't I go?!" She began to shout at this point, her eyes stinging with tears, "I want to go!"

"Safira, you are not going out there," Rubina's tone turned deadly, "Ever."

There it was. It was out in the open for everyone in the room to hear. Safira looked at her father expectantly, hoping he would stand up and assure her it wasn't true. He only gave her a sorrowful look that could be described as remorse before dropping his gaze.

Safira felt her sobs escape her as she ran out of the hut and through the Court of Miracles. Only this time, no laughter echoed through the hideout.

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Safira had gone into hiding in the Court of Miracles; having been confined for ten years, she had known of places that not even the eldest living gypsy knew about. She waited until she knew her parents had left for the festival before returning home sullenly.

She had laid on the hard floor she called her bed, cushioned only by cloth they used to keep a barrier between the cold floor and their bodies. She cried harder than she had cried before, still unable to grasp that as she lay there, she was alone while her parents were above the ground. Her tears had exhausted her into sleep.

She had woken hours later, her head throbbing painfully as she rubbed the dried tears from her eyes and cheeks. She groaned as she sat up, her head feeling as it held more weight than her neck could support. She stood clumsily and looked around, noticing that she was still alone.

The festival was an event that went on until the moon itself was almost ready for bed. She wondered what time it was and when her parents would be getting home. She hoped not soon for she wasn't ready to face them just yet. Her heart ached just as much as her head.

A loud knock on the door startled her nearly out of her bones. Expecting her parents on the other side, she slowly walked to the door, taking a deep breath in before she opened it. Her wide blue eyes narrowed as she looked into the smiling face of Clopin.

"Well, well, well-"

"Don't," Safira interrupted him, "Just don't. Not right now."

Clopin took the time to note her features; her puffy, red eyes, the emptiness in those usually sparkling eyes and her black hair a mess. A look on his features crossed that could almost be called... Concern? Safira could've sneered at the very thought.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, her voice slightly hoarse, "Shouldn't you at the festival?"

"I got bored," He shrugged casually, peering into the house behind her, "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

Safira was ready to retort but after she thought about it, she realized she'd rather have Clopin to annoy her than her thoughts to upset her. She nodded heavily and walked inside, allowing him to follow after her. She sauntered over to the items her mother had been rummaging through earlier and began to look through them in an attempt to keep her mind occupied.

"So why didn't you go to the festival?" Clopin asked as he watched her go through her mother's items.

"It's too dangerous to go," She snapped tightly; Clopin didn't miss the hint of bitterness in her tone.

"Ah, yes," He nodded slowly, rubbing his chin in mock thought, "Jugglers, dancers, bells and costumes... I can see where the danger lies."

When he was met with nothing but silence, Clopin sighed. He stared at her back as she continued to search for whatever it was she searched for.

He had been thirteen years old when Safira came to the Court of Miracles and he had grown up like most of the children knowing that behind closed doors and through hushed whispers that Safira wasn't actually a gypsy. It was a well-kept secret, one that the gypsies kept not for the sake of the child or her adoptive parents but for the protection of their underground hideout.

Rubina and Sacha had almost been hung by the gypsies themselves for putting them in the amount of danger and risk of kidnapping not only a French soldier's child but the child of Captain of the Guards under Frollo's army.

She was Selene de Chateaupers, daughter of Captain Frederick and Lady Chandra. For years he had been on the lookout for his long-lost daughter. So much so that every gypsy in question was nearly tortured to death until they provided bits of false information to keep the Court of Miracles safe and Captain Frederick circling a dead end.

The gypsies responsible for kidnapping the French child were not hung by their fellow gypsies simply under the conditions that the child remain in the Court of Miracles forever. Her appearance, even ten years later, would be too risky for she would be a gypsy of unusual appearance and if stories were true, she was a spitting image of her mother. Surely Captain Frederick would recognize his wife mirrored in his daughter were he to see her and in discovering his daughter, he would discover their hideout.

Clopin, like most of the gypsies, did not blame the girl nor did he spite her. He empathized with her. Yes, he picked on her and yes he loved to play tricks on herr but it was nothing more than an act he played. Even now as he looked at her, he could feel his facial muscles relaxing as he gazed at her with pity.

"What's this?" He heard her whisper softly.

"What?" He snapped out of this thoughts, walking to kneel down next to her, "It's a book."

"It's hollow," She clarified, knocking on it before opening and gasping at the sight.

"Whoa," Clopin's eyes widened as silver reflected in their eyes.

"It's a necklace," She breathed out. Clopin, too amazed at even seeing something so expensive up close did not feel the need to remark on her obvious comment.

"Is this what they were going to give me?" She whispered softly, guilt washing over her for a moment when she remembered how disrespectful she had been to her parents.

Clopin, however, could see what Safira was too ignorant to see. There was no way her parents could afford such an expensive piece of jewelry. He could only conclude that they had stolen it. Now to steal food, clothes, and things to help them survive was one thing but something like this? It almost angered him but the smile that spread on Safira's face melted away it away before it could fully form as she handed him the necklace.

"Put it on me," She requested excitedly.

He nodded quietly and watched as she picked up her long hair. He graced the necklace over her pale neck and clasped it, holding back a sigh as he stared hard at her. His mind began to ponder many questions.

Was this their way of keeping her satisfied with staying locked up? Was this why they both worked so hard? They were able to have at least a small hut and the things Safira had such as books and even a few simple toys. Was it to keep her from asking questions? It was one thing to keep Safira safe from the truth but it was another to keep her distracted with material possessions to purposefully keep her ignorant.

"Safira, come with me," He found himself speaking without realizing.

"Where?" She asked without looking at him, still gazing at the silver crescent moon pendant in admiration.

"To the festival."

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Safira had taken some convincing. After seeing what her parents were planning on giving her, her guilt reminded her of her loyalty. The thought of going against her parent's wishes when they had worked so hard to keep her happy made it difficult. Clopin continued to convince her until she finally broke down.

What if we get caught, she had told him.

No one will see us, he had assured her.

She had agreed to let him chaperone her but not for long. Even as she walked side-by-side with Clopin, she clutched his hand and trembled with excitement.

They began to make their way out of the Court of Miracles. Safira's entire body trembled as Clopin led her through a catacomb tunnel she had never even seen before. This wasn't the way to the city that she had seen other gypsies taking. He had led her to a completely different direction, bringing a level of skepticism from her.

"How do you know about this place?" She asked softly, her voice echoing quietly in the tunnels as it synchronized with the sound of water dripping and rats squeaking.

"You're not the only one who knows of the hidden tunnels around here," Clopin smirked as he continued to hold her hand comfortingly.

He could hear her sharp, uneven breaths and it made him smile. He couldn't even begin to imagine what she was feeling and indeed he had no idea. When they reached their destination, she froze completely.

Before them was a rusty ladder. She stared at it as if it were the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. To the naked eye it was just an old ladder that looked like it could break at any moment but to Safira it symbolized every bit of her deepest desires.

He began to climb the ladder that would lead to a pothole in the city, still grasping her hand until he heard her voice.

"I can't do this, Clopin," She exclaimed suddenly, pulling back from him but he held onto her hand firmly.

"Safira, it's just for a moment," He assured her, "We'll go, see the festival and be back before your parents get home-"

"I'm scared-"

"I know-"

"No you don't!" She began to grow hysterical, "I've... What if..."

She struggled to find the words, tears brimming her eyes as she looked around almost as if she were trying to find a quick escape.

"If what?" He encouraged her gently, still holding tightly in case she decided to bolt.

"What if... What if it's nothing like I thought it would be...?" She whispered softly.

It was then that Clopin truly realized what he had taken for granted all his life. Safira may as well not have been human. She felt nothing; not the breeze in her hair, not the smell of the trees, not the heat of the sun or the cooling of the shade that follows.

She feared the outside as fiercely as she desired it.

Safira felt as if she would heave whatever contents left in her stomach. She continued to stare at the ladder that led to her freedom. She had only known of the outside world from what she heard other people say about it.

"You'll never know until you try," He continued to coax her gently, "If you don't do it now, you never will. This is your only chance, Safira."

She knew he spoke the truth. There was never a time she was as alone as she was right now without one of her parents supervising her. If she didn't take the chance now when they were both gone, she would mostly have to wait another year for the next festival to try again and the very thought scared her more than climbing that ladder did.

"Come on, I'll go first."

She looked into his brown eyes and nodded almost violently. He slowly released her hand and when she didn't immediately run, he knew she would follow. Safira stared at the metal bars that formed the ladder, releasing a shaky breath before gripping it furiously and climbing it with her eyes shut tightly.

Her heart was thumping furiously, so much so that she feared it would burst out of her chest and she would die before she reached the top. Her heartbeat and breathing echoed in her ears like drums. She could hear the sound of metal moving heavily against stone and the night breeze that followed took her breath away but she refused to open her eyes just yet.

She reached the top and could feel the cool night sky, picturing it behind her closed eyes. Clopin's soft laughter woke her when she realized she had stopped at the very top of the ladder.

"Open your eyes."

She did. Slowly. She stared straight up at Clopin who was offering his hand to her. She took it immediately and pulled herself up. She stumbled slightly and fell into his arms, bringing another chuckle out of the amused gypsy man. He helped her stand and watched her intently as her eyes drank in the sight of what the night sky actually looked like.

It was slightly cold but not unbearably so. The gentle breeze felt heavenly against her skin. A noise escaped her throat that sounded like a mixture of a sorrowful cry and joyful laugh as she looked up at the moon for the first time. It wasn't full nor was it crescent as she had seen in her story books but it was beautiful, providing them with light as it rested snuggly in the royal blue blanket that seemed to be adorned with sparkling diamonds.

"Turn around," He suggested with a grin.

She looked at him curiously before turning slowly and gasping at the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She had heard about it, seen pictures of it but never had she thought she would see the Notre Dame cathedral with her very own eyes.

"It's... It's... How...?" She turned to look at him confusedly, "I thought the entrance led to-"

"Nobody knows of this second entrance into the Court of Miracles," He explained seriously, "It was built long ago, meant to be an easy escape route for those who were forced into sanctuary in the cathedral and needed to escape. But the risk of being discovered was getting too great. My father sealed the entrance... Or so he claimed."

She looked back at the pothole as Clopin sealed it back and noticed it blended almost perfectly to the ground. Had she not known what was underneath it, she never would've guessed something was hidden there. The people of Paris walked over it every day without a care in the world and had no clue a city of people lived underneath.

"You haven't seen anything yet!" He promised her before whisking her away for a night she would never forget.

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Safira had seen things, smelled things, felt things and heard things she never thought she would ever experience. She laughed at the entertainment provided by the gypsies, gasped in awe at the scenery of Paris, tasted fresh bread as she had always dreamed of and it had been magnificent. She pinched herself repeatedly to assure herself this wasn't a dream.

She had the pleasure and blessing of seeing her mother dance on stage while he father played his instruments in his colorful and bell-adorned garb. She was a sight to behold. Safira's eyes softened as she watched her mother twirl and slither her body like a snake as the crowd cheered and threw gold coins onstage. She had seen her mother dance before, Safira herself dancing around her swiftly moving legs as a younger child but never had she seen her look as beautiful as she did now.

By the time Clopin brought her back to the realization that she had to go home, Safira realized she didn't want to go back but she knew she had no choice. The sound of thunder echoed through the night before it began to sprinkle quietly. She had experienced rain for the first time that night as well and she loved it.

Heart still racing with adrenaline, she followed Clopin hand-in-hand as the festivities died out. They made their way towards the entrance from which they came. Walking quietly through the night, Clopin motioned for her to keep silent as he heard the sound of voices around the corner of the cathedral. He bought his arm out to stop her from walking further as he peered over the corner of the cathedral.

"Oh no," He whispered in alarm, "Safira, don't look-"

"What is it?" She frowned deeply and despite his protests, she peered over his arm and around the corner of their hiding spot and gasped.

Her parents were being stopped by soldiers. They were being... arrested? Why?!

"Shh, stay calm," He tried to calm her.

"We have to help them!" She raised her voice, forcing Clopin to bring his hand over her mouth as the soldier's eyes darted to the dark corner where the children hid.

"Shut up!" Clopin whispered harshly in her ear. They stood in silence, watching as the soldiers seem to be interrogating Rubina and Sacha though their wrists were already chained.

Clopin, his hand still over Safira's mouth while his other arm wrapped around her waist, led her slowly and quietly further around the cathedral and closer to the scene. As her back pressed against his stomach, he silently prayed the soldiers would eventually leave so they could jump into the catacombs soon after.

"Do you care to explain what you were doing out so late after the festivities?" One of the soldiers asked coldly.

"We were in the festivities," Rubina's voice could be heard.

"Explain this," The soldier grabbed a pouch hanging from Rubina's dress, jingling it before pouring out gold coins onto the floor.

"That's the money we earned," She snapped fiercely as she tried to take it back.

"Rubina, please," Sacha tried to calm his wife, his nervousness apparent.

"I'd listen to your husband, gypsy," the second soldier spoke, "But until we can prove that these coins were truly earned and not stolen, you're coming with us."

Safira whimpered under Clopin's hand, forcing him to hold her closer, turning swiftly so that his back faced the soldiers to prevent her from seeing anything. She could still hear everything.

"Why you-" Rubina's voice could be heard, "Unhand me, you brute!"

"Release my wife!" Sacha's voice followed as the sound of metal clashing from the chains they tried to desperately release themselves from.

"You got a little fight in you, don't you?" The first soldier laughed, the sound of a sword unsheathing freezing Safira's blood as she began to fight off Clopin's grip.

"Safira, please," He whispered desperately, knowing what would come next, "Don't look!"

A woman's chilling scream rang through the night, following the agonized cries of a man's that Safira knew all too well. She fought against Clopin's grip, finally biting down hard on his hand. With a low, pained hiss, he released her.

Safira ran from him and stood in plain sight of the soldiers. Her eyes darted to the bodies that lay on the ground. Met with the soulless eyes of her parents and the expressionless faces, she watched the ground beneath them pool with their innocent blood.

"No..." Safira whispered brokenly before she locked eyes with the soldier whose blade was stained with the blood of her parents.

Sorrow had no room in her heart in that moment. A dark energy pulsated around Safira as fury and grief overwhelmed her.

With a fierce noise that could only be described as a growl, Safira began to run towards the soldier. She was deaf to the sound of Clopin's voice begging her to stop, deaf to the sound of another sword unsheathing, numb to the pain that followed she threw her entire weight on one of the soldiers, knocking him onto his back. He was visibly stunned and dropped his sword upon being attacked.

She took advantage of having caught him by surprise. With a shrill cry, she removed his protective metal helmet before smashing it violently onto his head. Once. Twice. Three times. She received an oddly satisfying cry of pain from the man beneath her before the other soldier sprang into action.

"You little witch!" The soldier growled furiously as he watched his partner groan in agony at the fierce blows he received to his head, blood trickling down his face.

His sword slashed towards the girl but she was lighter on her feet. Ducking, she narrowly missed the edge of the blade and rolled off the wounded soldier. She caught sight of the sword he had dropped and reached for it. Knowing she stood no chance against a skilled swordsman, she aimed for the only area he had unguarded; his neck.

With a cry of anguished grief, she raised the sword over her head and slashed at the soldier's neck clumsily before he could regain his composure. The sound that followed was that of the soldier's staggering as he dropped his sword, bringing his hands to his neck. He gasped, gurgled and fell to the ground, blood gushing from his wound.

Safira slowly approached the soldier whose throat she had slashed, still gripping the sword. She reached down and removed his helmet with her free hand to look into his eyes. He was still alive but just barely. The soldier stared back, unable to speak but fear reflected in his eyes. He reached for her ankle in almost a desperate attempt to fight for his life. The few appearances of lightning allowed him to look into the face of what seemed to be a blue-eyed devil child who had been sent by the Grim Reaper.

She watched his wound continue to bleed, kicking his hand off of her ankle as it lay limply on the ground. She turned her cold stare to the soldier whose head she nearly bashed open with his own helmet and noticed the pool of blood surrounding his head; he wasn't moving nor was his chest rising. He was dead.

Safira turned to the lifeless forms of her parents, her blank stare breaking into that of anguish. The blood that drenched her clothes and hands being washed away by God's sorrowful tears as the rain continued to pour down. From the corner of her eyes, she could see a figure watching her.

She looked up to see Clopin standing in the moonlight, staring at her in what could only be horror. He was almost afraid in that moment, the way she stared at him with eyes that he no longer recognized. She stood slumped, probably exhausted, her now wet hair falling into her face. She was a terrifying sight to behold that could only be described as demonic. He was expecting her to fall to the ground in tears at any moment or to run to him in realization of what she had just done.

Instead, she turned her back to him and began to walk away.

"Safira," He called out shakily, succeeding in only having her pause to glance over her shoulder.

The cold glare in her blue eyes stopped him from going after her. She only looked at him briefly before continuing on her way, dragging the sword with her. He watched her form disappear into the moonlight, his body trembling as he stared at four dead bodies gathered behind the walls of Notre Dame; the entrance of the catacombs blocked by Safira's mother.

Clopin returned to the Court of Miracles through its only known entrance and never went through the second entrance again.

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Author's Note:

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

This was more of a background chapter on Selene de Chateaupers/Safira but there will be much, MUCH more. This will be a Quasimodo x OC story but it is very plot-based so if you're in for an interesting take on the movie with character development and a slow-paced romance, you're in for a treat.

This is a story I've been working on-and-off on for years. It's fully written and had been re-read and edited more times than I can count. I am super excited to finally get to share this with my fellow HBONT lovers!

I will be updating this story weekly (every Sunday) so no future hiatus' or weeks/months without updates. As my reader's your enjoyment is my priority so please let me know if you see anything that needs clarity and/or improvement through feedback.

~ Laruto