Disclaimer: "Wreck-It Ralph" and all characters related to the movie belong to The Walt Disney Company, and/or their respective gaming companies. Wreck-It Ralph was created by Rich Moore, Phil Johnston, and Jim Reardon. The Hunchback of Notre Dame (Notre Dame de Paris) belongs to the Victor Hugo, and redistributed by the Walt Disney Company. Our Lady of Paris, and any characters not associated in their own respective franchise belong to Berserkeroo. All rights reserved.
(A/N: Well, I'm recycling a character in this fanfiction. Vanellope's mom from Level Up! If I ever need a mother OC for her, chance is that I'll use Confection so just a warning. She won't be making many, if any appearances in the fanfiction after this, and you'll find out why soon enough.)
Vanellope stretches out on one of the pews in the cathedral's sanctuary while yawning. She glances about to see that the archdeacon was shining the bronze statue of Jesus Christ on a wooden cross. He glances back at the awakened gypsy. "Morning sister," he tips his hat off to the woman. "Morning," she offers in a kind yet awkward way. "If you're hungry, I have already set a few of the missionaries out to gather something. They should be arriving any minute now," Felix says.
A loud crash comes from the wing that held the kitchen. "And that will be them," he pinches the bridge of his nose. Sometimes he had to pray really, really hard for his childhood friends. "Thanks," she smiles at the holy man before making her way into the kitchen.
Quickly she ducks out of the way as an apple is soaring overhead. "Jesus Christ," she mutters as the men were in an awkward position of mangling each other; Bowser had his hands around Zangief's neck, Zangief held Cyril by his tunic with his fist ready to punch him, and Cyril held rolling pin over Bowser's head. She clears her throat. The males scuttle to attention, but sigh in relief once they realize that it wasn't Felix. "Had us scared for a minute," Bowser chuckles. "I just came to get breakfast," she offers as she gathers a plate and a few utensils. Curiosity beams through her eyes, as she never really had much use for utensils since she was always on the run.
"Wait, I know you. You're that gypsy from yesterday that got our brother in trouble," Bowser huffs. "You mean all of you are Stinkbrain's brothers?" She looks at the weird assortment before nibbling on a slice of bread. "Well not biologically. We're a weird cornucopia of what we call a family; all of us were orphans," Cyril explains. "You wouldn't happen to know where I could find Ham-hands would ya?" she asked between bites.
"Why should we tell you?" Bowser asks with a raised red eyebrow. "Someone has to keep that boy on his toes, and who better than a dancer," she strikes a pose with a smirk. Zangief nudges his friends in the ribs before gathering into a circle. "Is it me or does foxy lady like Ralph?" he asks. "Ralph goes out for one day — one day — and he already has someone after him? Oh come on! I've been working on dating the plumber's sister for years and he scores in one day? That is so unfair!" Bowser grumbles. "Cry me a river Bowser. Ralph doesn't get to enjoy life like we do so if a lady wants him, we can only be encouraging," Cyril says with the most reason. "But she get him in trouble yesterday. We don't want just anyone with our brother. She must have qualifications," Zangief whispers with gusto. "Well I'm a good dancer who makes her own money and I'm attractive," the brunette whispers from beside the trio.
They jump out of their skin at the surprising appearance of the girl. She chuckled before she took a bite out of one of the nearby apples. "Sneaky little street rat ain't she," Bowser pats his sporadically beating heart. "I like her," Cyril says out of the three out them. The other two look at the older brother of the group.
"Ralph is in bell tower. If you can't find it wait for bells to ring and that should lead the way," Zangief instructs. "See now that wasn't so hard," she smirks before leaving — but not before taking another apple. "This girl is trouble with a capital 't'," Bowser says with folded arms. "I thought you of all people would like a fellow troublemaker," the skinny man offers. "That's it," he pulls him by the shirt with an awaiting fist. Another person cleared their throat. "Not you agai-" They notice it's Felix this time with an expectant look on his face. "Felix! We were just..." they stammer. "Cleaning the kitchen?" the small man says in a disbelieving look. "Right..."
Ralph does a few warm-ups stretches to get ready for his duties. He cracks his massive hands once he was finished; it was only a matter of time before he needed to ring the bells. "Some place you've got here," a feminine voice echoes from behind him. The bell ringer jumps away from the unknown person until he sees the familiar dancer from yesterday; staring about in awe. "You!" he gasps in shock.
Vanellope gives him a side-glance that held a little irritation. "Do you always forget the name of helpless women you topple over or does it take a little more for you to remember?" she blows one of her stray locks towards the large man. "Watch your tongue. Do you have any shame? This is a church for crying out loud," he reminds her. The gypsy pays little attention at the male berating her.
She gasps as she leans over the edge of the tower to get a view of the city. "I bet the king of France would pay a butt load of money for a view like this," she says leaning a little more over the edge. "You trying to commit suicide or something," Ralph asks as he notices how close she was to falling off. "You give me too little credit Ralphie-boy. I have very sharp reflexes," she states as she jumps over the edge to demonstrate.
Ralph screams as he looks over the edge to see where she went. The mischievous young woman was playing around the hoops of the pillars below the tower. She cast him a wicked smile that was clearly mocking him. Before long she was back in the bell tower with the auburn haired bell ringer. She spares him a glance as he climbs up the posts to get to a rope. "What are you doing?" Vanellope asks as she lies out on the stone ledge like a leisurely feline.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm about to ring the bells," he says before gripping the rope. With a slow breath he pulls the ropes, which sends the bells into a beautiful rhythmic paroxysm of sounds. Shimmering with wonder, the hazel-eyed woman was captivated by the bronze bells as they swung gracefully with the sounds of their victorious chime following soon after. The sun pierced the lightly clouded sky, hitting the bells with an almost golden luster. Her heart skipped a bit as she watches the man tend to the massive instruments.
Ralph glances back down at the girl since she was quiet for once in their short time of meeting. He notices her eyes glistening up at him as the sun strikes down on her at just the right angle. For a minute he almost forgot to pull the rope, but went back to his task. Every other pull of the rope he would spare a glance at the woman who clearly wasn't going to take her eyes off of him anytime soon. He silently thanked God that this was the last pull that the bells needed for the time being because he didn't know how much longer he could stand her examining him.
Just because his duties were finished didn't mean that the girl wasn't done eying him. "Are you going to keep looking at me all day?" he asks. "A gypsy either eyes things she likes or things she wants to steal, and since this is a church the latter is out of the question," she retorts. Her eyes fall upon his massive hands, which he notices. Ralph hides them behind his back as if he were ashamed of them.
Vanellope slides off of her perch to go to the bell ringer. She circles him like a panther on the prowl, which was making him a little nervous. "What are you doing?" he finally asks. "Studying you. I'm curious as to why such a nice guy like you is so defensive about such an interesting feature," she said, taking one of his hands from their hiding place. Ralph was conflicted between telling her and keeping that information to himself. Well, what could it hurt? "All I can do is wreck things. Turbo said my mother tried to get rid of me because I would slow her down, and lo and behold she died trying in the process. Despite how much he hates gypsies, he took me in when anyone else would have probably let me die in the snow. As you can see I'm really big so I tend to break things a lot easier so he raised me up here with the bells; they're a lot sturdier than anything else I've ever came into contact with, so I was given the job to ring the bells." His eyes went up to the only thing that he took pride in.
The gypsy opens his palm and starts to trace the contours of his hand. "What are you doing?" he asks. "Palm reading. The palm is connected to the body in ways that people wouldn't dare to believe," she states as she traces the final line to his wrist. "Want to know what I see?" she asks him with smirk. "Uh sure."
Vanellope starts at his heart line. "This is your heart line. It shows what kind of person you are when it comes to the matters of the heart. You've... had a very unhappy life, but see how the line curves this way, it means that something good will happen in a matter of time," she starts as she traces over to his head line, "You'll be making a monumental decision that could change your life — hopefully soon," her thin fingers come across his life line, "This line is short and shallow; someone's been manipulating you Ralph, but what's interesting is that the line breaks off; that means that something's going to change." Her eyes glance up at his deep brown eyes before going back down to his palm. "Well aren't you a lucky guy. You have a fate line. Not many people have one you know?"
The sound of footsteps interrupts her from telling him what lies ahead. "It has to be Turbo! Hide!" he says as he eyes the steps. "I've got nothing to hide about. He can't do anything to me and he doesn't own Notre Dame so he can stick it up his rear," she huffs. "Don't get me in more trouble." She rolls her eyes and climbs a rope to hide in one of the bells. Just as she secures herself in her hiding place, the man in speaking arises from the steps. "Did I hear voices?" he asks his son. "I don't know. It's just me and the bells; all alone," he sits at his table.
"Good. I wouldn't want anyone — especially that gypsy girl — up here. She'd corrupt your delicate little mind. They do that you know. She'll fill your head with her little webs of lies and then try to rob you blind, of course you have nothing of value so I don't know why she would even bother," Turbo chided as he examines his nails. "I brought your dinner for the day, unfortunately I can't stay; duty calls," he thought he heard a snicker come from the bells, but shrugs at it. "I even brought you a dessert. The civilians had some of that cake from yesterday so I decided to give it to you. I want as little to do with that horrid holiday so you can have it," he says. The judge walks to the archway of the bell tower; he glances over his shoulder.
"Ralph, I'm serious about you hanging around that gypsy girl. She'll ensnare you with her tricks and that would be the most reckless thing that could happen to you. You already ruin everything you touch. Don't let her seal you to that permanent fate."
Turbo turns on his heels and stops in the middle of the room to examine the bells — then finally takes his leave. The heavy oak door closes behind him. Vanellope slides down the rope before swinging down to Ralph. "Thought that jerk would never leave," she glances over to him. "You're not really taking what Turdbo said to heart are you?" Ralph actually chuckles at that. "I'm sure Bowser would love you for that one."
"I don't think I'm his type. I hear he's got a thing for the plumber's sister," she whispers the latter as though it was a real secret. Vanellope gives a mock bow to his continuous laughter. "What kind of gypsy would I be if I couldn't make someone laugh?" They both go into another round of laughter.
The trio passes Turbo on their way up to the bell tower. They ease the door open to hear two people laughing. They peer over the edge of the floorboards to get a peek at the two hitting it off as Bowser put it. "Zangief feels like stalker eavesdropping on them," he retorts to Cyril before going back to observing their relationship's progress. "We aren't stalkers, we're just..." Cyril tries to think of something. "Observationalist?" Bowser offers. Unknown to them Felix was coming up the stairs to check in on his friend. "What are you guys doing?" he asks in a whisper.
The three scream before tripping from their post. The four tumble down the stairs before falling at the bottom — poor Felix was at the base of the pile. "Dear sweet mother of mercy, get off please!" He claws at the ground in an attempt to free himself. Feminine laughter caught the group of trespassers in surprise. "Eh Stinkbrain I think we've got a few peeping Toms," she chuckles at their embarrassment.
"Me? No! Never! I'm an archdeacon for Heaven's sake. I just came up here to check on Ralph. These three-" Zangief covers his mouth before he could get too far in his tale. "Were just about to do the same thing, but since you two seem busy, I think we'll come back later," Bowser says before they scramble to their feet and leave.
Felix brushes off the dust from his robes before taking his leave. "I'm going to pray before I throw a tizzy." He glances up to see that Vanellope had left, more than likely to get more acquainted with Ralph.
The archdeacon walks down large hallways of the cathedral until he reaches the sanctuary. He addresses the cross before going into prayer. The prayer was brief and soothed him greatly. Just as he got to his feet he heard metallic footsteps enter the sanctuary. He turns to see Tamora Calhoun analyzing the church's layout. He jumps as she glances his way.
"Easy archdeacon, I'm not here to start trouble, just curious about what Notre Dame looks like," she chuckles. "I haven't been in a church for years with this free-lance job of mine. It's really beautiful," she states as she looks through the stained glass windows. "Well thank you ma'am, I take great pride in keep our lady up and running. She's been in the care of the holy men of my family for quite a few generations," he admits with a hint of pride at the accomplishment. "That's quite impressive," she whistles. "Why thank you. I'm done for the night and I'd be happy to show you more if you want," he offers.
Calhoun taps her chin in interest. "At this point, if my choices were between staying in the church and my job, I'd be one step closer to being a saint," she thought with a chuckle. "I'd like that archdeacon Fix-It," she smiles. "Please don't be so formal. I really don't like it when people do that. Just call me Felix." Well there's a shocker. "Alright Felix, show me the way."
The pair walks out of the sanctuary and begin their tour down the hall with various statues commissioned for the church.
Vanellope balances on a rope that leads from one end of the bell tower to the other. She blithely saunters on the rope beginning a dance with no tune. A sudden gasp almost threw her off of her rhythm and balance. Her eyes cast down to the man she's been getting to know for the past week. "Sheesh what are ya doing? Trying to make me fall," she chides. "No, but what the heck are you doing? You're... dancing on a rope," he stares at the girl as she balances on balls of her feet. She takes out her scarf, which adds to his enticement. "It's something my mom made up. She called it tightrope walking, well more like tightrope dancing since she danced on them. It was a part of her act..." Her eyes went out to the vantage of Paris; she seemed to grow more distant.
Though she managed to maintain her balance, Ralph knew something was bothering her. "Are you okay?" he asks, which snapped her out of her daze. "Huh? Oh, yeah..." she walks further until she's at the center of the rope. "You don't look it," he persists.
"I don't want to talk-"
"You know more about me than I do about you Vanellope," Ralph adds before she could deny him. "My mother was going to teach me her moves, but she died, so I had to learn it on my own. Well, dad watched over me, but that's all the help that I've ever got. I only learned because she left a book on how she developed it," she glances down at him.
"You want to know why I can't stand Turbo so much?" she asks him with darkness shrouding her eyes. Ralph certainly didn't expect things to take this turn. "Uh, why?" Vanellope swings from the tightrope from her knees onto another rope. She swings again until she reaches the platform nearby Ralph. Slowly she walks up to him until she was a fraction away from him. To be honest, she was starting to scare him. "He killed my mother..."
It was a warm summer's night. All were tucked into bed; almost all that is. Several silhouettes cast against the midnight skies. Many gypsies were huddled together as they examined the Palace of Justice. King Candy, as all the other gypsies dubbed him, walked into the heart of the hoard. "Listen up! Judge Turbo has been a predator on the prowl when it comes to our frères et soeurs! He is harboring five members of our family in there to be executed tomorrow at sunrise. Are we going to sit back and take it?" he boasts. "No!" the crowd jeers. "Now that's what I wanted to hear! This is going to be a toughy, but we can manage thanks to Coni." A cream skinned woman with black-brown hair and hazel eyes walks forward with smirk; around her ankle was a young girl around the age of six. "Mom are we really going to save our friends from Turbo?" she asks.
Confection caresses the girl's cheek. "We are Vanellope, not you. You're still too young and you have a lot more tricks to learn before you can help out. Just stay right here and learn," she says before eying her husband. Vanellope huffs, but knew better than to debate it. "Don't sweat it Vanellope. When we're a little older, we'll be sticking it to Turbo too!" Gloyd said while rubbing his hands together.
"I'll be tipping the spear on this one. I'll use my tightrope walking and get over to the Palace to open the front door so the rest of you can get in for the rescue. Taffelot you'll need to be quick on picking the locks. We don't know how many guards we're up against," she commands. "I've got the swiftest hands on this side of France mon soeur," Taffelot said as he magically pulled a coin pouch out from his hands before throwing it back at her. She snickers. "God I love that rotten scoundrel."
"Okay we have the plan so lets make this quick. We've got a few hours until sunrise and couple of minutes before the alarm rings," Candy said.
Confection tests the rope leading from the rooftop to the Palace. To her relief it was secure. She makes quick work of walking the ropes. She opens a window before going down to the second floor. Ever evasive she remains unseen. She holds a mirror up to the window to give off the signal. The horde sneaks over in groups of three in thirty second intervals. "Okay we're on the second floor and the others will be in the stocks so lets go," she whispers.
The group arrives to the holding cell with little difficulty. Everyone seemed acutely aware of their surroundings, but some paid a bit more attention to their situation. Confection glances over to Candy with a knowing look. "This is too easy. We've only had a handful of guards on the way down. There's no way Turbo would be this relaxed the day before an execution," they seemed to both conclude. A few others seemed to take notice as well.
Taffelot owned up to his promise in making quick work of the locks and freed their comrades. "Candy I think-" Before another word could be muttered the sounds of soldiers ready for battle chorused above head. "Damn!" one of the gypsies cursed. The group ran up the stairs, knocking a few of the soldiers out of the way in the process.
A plan started to chart its course in Confection's head. "Candy lead everyone out through the back, I'll distract them and go out the way I came. These clumsy oafs won't be able to follow me," she said. There wasn't much Candy could do about the plan since they were pressed for time and unwanted company was literally right around the corner. She delayed her departure for a while until she could see the guards. "Hey boys," she called with a wink before taking off in another direction.
The guards didn't see any of the other gypsies, but they knew that they had to have something or Turbo would be furious. They followed hot in pursuit until she broke a window and started making a mad dash across a rope. She chuckles as none of them could follow her, just as she expected. "Later ya lame-os!" she taunts until she felt the rope start to bob.
Confection glances back to see that they were cutting the ropes. "Didn't think they'd do that," she cursed as she staggers across the rope. "Almost there, almost there..." The rope snapped separating her from the rope. She grips the rope just in time to swing safely to the ground.
Heavy hoof steps came from behind her as a pair of discolored eyes and a wicked grin pierced the fading night. "Typical gypsies. We have to save our family. We have to do it now," he mocks in a high voice. "It doesn't have to be this way Turbo and you know it! You-" she was cut off by the short man. "Don't you dare say what I think you were going to say!" His black horse trots around her in a predacious way. "Guards!" he barks.
The heavy tromps of footsteps fill the courtyard, cutting off any means of escape for her. "Take the gypsy wench and bring some rope and wood," he orders. Confection's eyes grew wide with fright. "You can't do this!" she shouts. "It's not like the public would know. A gypsy is a gypsy and they'll never tell the difference," Turbo chuckles as he rides off to town square.
Upon the rooftops the group watched on as the execution was well on its way. "Dad, you're not going to just sit there and do nothing!" Vanellope pulls at his pant legs. She looks at the other gypsies to see if they were going to do something; anything would do at this point. "None of you are going to do anything? She risked her butt for you!" Tears were leaking down her face. She felt a hand on her shoulder; one of her closest friends, Taffyta, was just as devastated as she was.
A loud voice boomed in the town square. "... witchcraft, theft, and treason! She has refused to recant so it is my greatest despair to sentence her to death!" Turbo held his head low to the ground as his shoulders shook. To the audience's eyes it looked as though he was crying, but to the criminal she could clearly see he was laughing. He took the torch and tossed it into the kindling.
Confection struggles against her bonds as the flames blaze to life with a terrifying roar; greedily lapping away at the flesh around her ankles. The flames were relentless as they followed the trail of burning flesh up her tender legs. Tears stream down her face at the pain as the smoke begins to burn her lungs. She coughs as the fire gnaws at the skin on her arms — searing through her clothes, muscles, and then her bone.
The embers were up to her hair, easily burning her down to her scalp. Her vision was fading as the smoke started to roll heavenward. As if the pain weren't enough, an agony worse than her torture befell her. The last thing she could see was the gypsies on a nearby rooftop paying their respects. The grief on her lover's face didn't bring her much comfort, and then she saw it. The unrelenting anguish on her daughter's crying face; she was watching her die. "No... No!" her voice rasps before falling into a pitch of silence.
Vanellope's eyes clouded over as her face was bathed in the citrus glow of the sunset. She snaps back to attention when she realizes she was starting to worry Ralph. "Sorry it's just..." She didn't get the chance to finish as she was enveloped into the warm hug of the bell ringer. A sense of relief overwhelmed her at the sudden embrace. Not many usually wanted anything to do with her after finding out that she was a woman with emotional baggage. Hot, glassy tears well up in the corners of her eyes, but she refuses to shed tears because of her mother's murderer. Instead she unleashes her pent up trauma in a muffled scream in Ralph's shirt. "I hate him! I'm so mad and hurt and angry... I..." she fights the tears that were practically begging to roll down her cheeks. He tries his best to pacify her, but he knew that she'd have to stop when she was ready.
Ralph wouldn't openly admit that he was a little bitter towards his mother for trying to abandon him — at least not right now with Vanellope in his arms. However the thought of her leaving him just to continue the life of a gypsy; he felt a little betrayed. In a way he thought she deserved it, but here Vanellope was — the daughter of a gypsy — bereaved over the loss of her mother by the very man that raised him. He sighs as he looks out towards the setting sun. It was obvious at this point that losing a mother, gypsy or not, was something that he needed to rethink upon.
(A/N: What? Don't look at me that way. I said there would be character death, and we aren't finished with it just yet either. It's tame in comparison to what I originally wrote for her execution.)