Alright, this is my first ever Fan Fiction. I have many ideas for fan-fic stories some which have been stewing in my head for the past 4 years or so.
Summary: This story follows a 19 year old nun, Charlotte, when Paris is under siege by the unrelenting Judge Claude Frollo. Being adopted by a monk in Notre Dame as a newborn, she is very protective of her church- her home- but she finds that she has to team up with the most unlikely of companions in order to retain the peace she desires.
Chapter One: Prologue
Rain viciously pounded on the empty cobble stone streets of Paris, as an icy wind howled through the alleys. Fortunately, the city slept comfortably (or as comfortably as one was able, in some conditions) in their beds; sheltered from the harsh weather. But, in the seemingly barren roads and onto the steps of Notre Dame, a young woman clutching at her bloated belly in pain and soaked by the cold cruel showers, appeared; slipping and stumbling, in desperate need of help.
This young woman was Miriam Pike, one of the barkeeper's daughters, whom was also a town wench. This career choice was hardly decided by her, but by her mother, Noel. She had been in the third generation of Paris whores, and when she had conceived little Miriam out of wedlock, she luckily was able to be married before news of her sinful pregnancy became public. A woman of tradition, she wanted her female children to continue their family business as France's finest ladies of the night.
Miriam, who was not particularly pleased with the arranged occupation (but left with no other option), carried out the legacy of her mothers before her. But she had made a fatal mistake- she had fallen in love with a customer, and in the process, became pregnant with his child. The man was already married, and once it was learned his lover was pregnant, he refused to have anything to do with her and the bastard child; denying their affair and his paternity. Though many were aware of her occupational status, prostitution was a job with a mutual agreement that it was acceptable so long as it was not a public affair. After seeing the young, pregnant woman roaming Paris without a man on her arm, she was shunned by the community.
She was now a street urchin. Her parents had thrown her out indefinitely for 'soiling' the family name, and she had nowhere to go. Sometimes she found herself camping with some gypsies on the out skirts of town; most times, she could only find refuge in a covered alley way. However, there was a place she knew she could stay and live in more optimal conditions- the church, Notre Dame. But after being so cast aside from the people she loved, she wanted nothing to do with God or religion. She knew her prayers had always gone on deaf ears. Her life only proceeded to get harder. She was alone.
But on this stormy night, she has broken her inward vow to seek help in high places.
"Soleil…" Miriam murmured to herself in incoherence as she crawled up the final step and slumped herself against the large oak doors. With all the strength she had, she pounded on the hard wood, hoping to be allowed inside.
"Sanctuary!...Please.."
This desperate call caught the attention of a monk taking a midnight stroll in the cathedral, who had been unable to rest. Concerned, he set down his lantern and cautiously walked towards the entrance until he heard a small, squishy thump from behind it. He immediately opened a door to find the sopping wet girl lying at his feet, her face twisted with pain.
"Oh, good Lord! Come with me, dear girl." The monk said, helping her up and directing her out of the bitter cold.
"Soleil?..." Miriam murmured again looking at a lantern on a pew that the monk had been carrying with him.
"Sun? Alright, now lie down right here," Said the monk, dismissing the odd remark and carefully helping her onto a pew to lie down. He removed his brown cloak and draped it over her clammy goose skin. "What is your name?"
"Mir…iam…" She breathed between jolts of pain. "P-please… help… baby…"
"Baby?" The monk questioned in confusion. And then he finally noticed her large protruding belly. This woman was about to give birth.
The monk swallowed, did a quick sign of the cross for strength, and pulled up his cloak and her waterlogged skirts over her legs to reveal her abdomen. Between her legs, he saw something large, round, and a purplish red peeking out. That must be the head, he deducted. "Miriam, I need you to push- the baby is starting to come out."
Miriam, red faced and screaming in effort, pushed with the little strength she had. The monk, unsure of the proper way to successfully deliver a child, gently tugged at the baby's head hoping it would help to get out faster. The head was now fully emerged, and the shoulders were starting to appear.
"Miriam, push!" he encouraged.
And with an ear shattering screech, a squelch of mucus and blood, and a high pitched wail, a new life was brought into the world.
"It's a girl, Madame!" He cheered in relief, glad to see the baby came out appearing to be unharmed. He pulled a small dagger from his boot and carefully cut the cord attaching the baby to her mother. He then wiped the child down with his robe that had covered Miriam; cleaning off the bits of bloody membrane that covered her newborn body and swaddled her tightly in the soiled brown fabric.
He walked up to the exhausted woman- who breathed short, shallow breaths- and presented her with the child.
"Ma," Miriam started, choking on her own spit. "Ma….Soleil…"
Miriam gave a weak smiled and slowly shut her glazed over eyes, and her pale body went limp. He no longer saw the rise and fall of her chest.
The monk leaned over her still form checking for any sign of life, but she had passed on. He stared sadly at the dead woman; who, he found, was quite lovely. It looked as though she was sleeping after a turbulent day. Finally at rest.
"Soleil…" He repeated.
"What in Heaven's name is going on down here?" called a flustered archdeacon to the monk, hurrying towards him. "I heard screaming-"
But he was cut off at the sight of the dead woman, the blood soaked pew, and the fussing baby in George's arms. Seeing the surprise in the archdeacon's face, he explained the situation and what had happened.
"What should we do with the child?" George asked, breaking the awkward silence.
"I believe we should keep her in the church until someone would be willing to take her in as their own." The archdeacon answered. But he knew it was very unlikely she would be adopted under the circumstances of her birth.
The monk stared at the newborn. She slept soundly in his arm, a string of drool dripping from her mouth onto his sleeve. He felt a dam in his mind crumble, and a flood of love for the baby began to drown his heart.
"I'll take her," He declared, keeping his eyes on the child. "I understand I will no longer be a legitimate monk, but I would really like to continue my journey as I raise this child. I feel as though God has sent her to me for a reason."
"Very well. I will let you stay in the church with the child, but you cannot join the monks. Making one exception can create chaos and corruption between you and the others if they are denied theirs. You will have to finish your quest for enlightenment on your own." The archdeacon replied.
"I understand," George whispered with remorse.
Then it struck it him- the little bundle of joy hadn't yet received a name.
"Soleil," He said aloud.
The archdeacon looked at him with confusion.
"That's what she had kept saying… I think that should be her name."
"Strange, yet sentimental- I like it." Chuckled the archdeacon.
"How about Soleil Charlotte? My mother's name was Charlotte," Added George, enthusiastic to give her a name of his creation.
"This shall be an interesting child- I am curious to see her grow up!" Laughed the deacon. "You are a man of many talents, George, but naming is certainly not your forte! Now come, let us go back to bed. The sun will rise in a few hours, and then we will find her a nurse."
And so, Soleil Charlotte's life began. But the decisions she would make in nineteen years would change it all.
Thank you so much for reading! I will only continue if I receive reviews or favorites.
A/N: For those of you who may not have caught it, 'soleil' (pronounced 'so-lay') means sun.