M'kay, I normally don't reply to reviews through the story, but I need to address YOU, Mr. Pierre Gringoire. FYI, there is a fine line between constructive criticism and outright nastiness. YOU practically long-jumped over that line. I worked really hard on this story, and that was merely the first chapter.

So SCREW YOU.

YOU JUST GOT SERVED!!

"Wow… I had no idea your home was so large!" Clopin exclaimed.

Yes. I had convinced my father to hire Clopin as children's entertainer 3 times a week so he could get some work done- and I knew by the state of his cart that Clopin could use some money.

My father glared at him and said sternly, "Now, listen here, gypsy-teach my children anything but moral, CHRISTIAN lessons in those stories of yours, and you are out of here!"

I blinked, quite surprised. I hadn't been aware that my father was a Frollo-supporter. But Clopin stayed calm and said, "Don't worry, Monsieur- your children will be safe with me."

(Or I would be rotting in the Palace of Justice by now, he added in his head.)

They stared at each other, Clopin not taking his shockingly blue eyes off my father's brown ones, and vice versa. Remarkably, my father looked away first as he turned on his heel and headed off to his study.

I was even more impressed by Clopin than I thought I would be. He was able to learn all their names and nicknames by the end of the first day- like I said, there was a lot of us: Madeline, Contessé – Tessa - Péter, Joseph, Thomas, and Dominique.

Later, Péter tried to sneak out again, while Clopin was telling a story. I didn't do a thing as the little boy looked over his shoulder in triumph, smirked, and turned back around. In a flash that even I didn't see, there was Clopin, standing in the doorway, still holding the puppets.

"My dear boy, where are you going?" he said in his slightly accented voice.

"Um, uh… nowhere, I guess."

"You won't be able to hear the end of the story if you leave, now, will you?"

"I guess not." Was it just me, or was Péter slightly embarrassed?

"Would you like to come back?"

"Sure."

I couldn't believe it. Péter was DEFEATED.

But even it that moment, it couldn't top naptimes. That was when Clopin and I stood outside the nursery door, quietly sharing conversations, jokes, stories, anything.

Weeks passed, and gradually, his outgoing manner and good looks- although he never took off his mask- made me fall in love with him.

(She wasn't like other young women I met on the street. She had such a positive outlook and kind nature, not to mention a beauty to rival even Esmeralda's. Even though I knew she was in a much higher rank than myself, I fell in love with her.)

But then came the night where the epic story begins.

It was a Wednesday. My whole family, including Father, were sitting at the dining room table for breakfast. After a long time of complete silence, Father put down his fork, took a drink of water, and wiped his mouth. We all looked up, knowing that he did that when he had something important to say.

"Marie- I have found a husband for you."

I nearly gagged on my eggs as all eyes- even 6-year-old Dominique's- shot over at me and I sputtered, "What? Who?"

"Monsieur La Frenzo."

A face appeared in my mind: An impeccably handsome young man with golden curly hair and green eyes.

"The baker-man's son?"

Father shook his head impatiently. "No. The wealthy one."

A whole scene appeared. A man in his 70's, dressed in black, walking crookedly from a pub.

"Not the tax collector!" I said, horrified.

He nodded.

"But why?"

"Well… you see, I happen to have acquired a large debt to Monsieur La Frenzo that I simply cannot pay off with money. So we agreed that I would pay half the debt and give you to him in marriage." I tried to protest, but Father was immoveable.

That afternoon, during naptime for the children, I sat in my room, crying. I faintly heard a knock on the door and a familiar male voice say, "Marie? May I come in?"

I hurried over and opened the door. There was Clopin, with a concerned look on his face- or, at least what I could see of it. He walked in, his eyes never leaving mine. We both sat on my bed. As he gently held my hand, he asked what was wrong.

"Clopin… my father's going to make me marry that La Frenzo man!"

He was shocked, but finally squeezed out, "The b-baker-man's son?"

I shook my head and said ironically, "Of course not. The WEALTHY La Frenzo man."

Clopin was even more shocked.

(How could a father do this to her? My Marie, married to that greedy drunkard?!)

A warm tear ran down my cheek. He noticed this and said softly, "Oh no, Marie, no tears, I don't like to see people cry." He tilted my face upward and wiped away the tear with his leather-gloved hand.

Being so close to him made me feel even worse, and yet somewhat better, as I thought about the way I felt for him. I thought: This may be my only chance to tell him…

"I don't want to marry him, Clopin… especially since I've fallen in love with someone else."

(Say what?)

I noticed his voice tremble a bit as he said, "Would you mind… telling me who?"

I smiled and simply said, "You."

(YES!! YES YES YES YES!!)

He pulled me closer, wrapping me in a hug. Clopin kissed the top of my head and said those magical words:

"Marie… you have no idea how happy that makes me feel… I love you too."

I looked up at him. He looked back at me and place his hand on my cheek again. We both closed our eyes as he gently brought my lips to his.

He eventually pulled away, and I spotted something different in his eyes… regret?

Clopin said, "I'm not really helping your situation, am I?"

Oh.

I'm engaged.

Right…

"Well, it might be a bit harder, but for now, I'm happy."

BTW... I'm really new to this fanfiction thing, so this will sound really idiotic...

What the heck is a Mary Sue??