I'm sorry it's been so long, I'm a horrible person for letting school get in the way. Please forgve me? yes, i know I said that before, but it's still true!
Bonjour. Shall we continue with the story? Yes? Then get comfortable, and let us continue.
Esmeralda and Clopin were taken in by the sisters after our mother's arrest. The court under Paris soon filled with Gypsies seeking refuge, and it was given a name. Those who'd supposedly died, or been captured, even those who'd been publicly executed appeared there in the living flesh. It became a place of light and color, part market and part permanent festival. They named it The Court of Miracles, and Jeanne was its Queen, La Reinne des Ennuis.
Jeanne lazed, her long sixteen year old frame draped elegantly across her throne. Chante stood to one side, the voice of reason, but they all knew she could not lead. Her heart was too soft to make difficult decisions, and she was too likely to be bullied into a corner by her 'subjects.' Jeanne didn't let that happen to her. She was tougher than her older sister in most regards, except when it came to Clopin and Esmeralda. Part of being la Reinne was supervising activities usually seen as criminal. Chante was always careful to hold now fifteen Clopin and eleven year old Esmeralda away from anything on the wrong side of the law. Of course, Jeanne only viewed that as a challenge. However, she never let them steal for her. She taught them how to pick locks and pockets, but would not allow them to get caught.
Clopin surveyed the three women in his life as they stood together. Esmeralda was growing into a beauty, her hair long and dark by now. She was still his baby sister in his mind, and so it was strange to see her in long skirts and facepaint. He had to admit, however, that she was one of the best dancers he'd ever seen. Chante was like his aunt by now, always sewing something or other, and singing in her sweet voice. She was still pretty, too, and Clopin knew her boyfriend was planning to propose to her before the year was out. Jeanne was, well, Jeanne. She still wore her oversized hat and men's clothing, even though everyone knew she was a girl by now. Despite the male clothes, however, she wore kohl around her eyes, and paint on her lips. It was an odd effect, but one she wore very well. She had no boyfriend, and seemed to have no desire for one. As she said 'The duties of Queen keep me busy enough already.'
Five years had passed since their mother's arrest. In that time, they'd gotten to know the name of the pale man all too well. Judge Claude Frollo. He personally was the reason that the gypsies had had to run and hide. And Clopin still hated him.
"Clopin!" he cringed slightly as he turned. It was one of his 'fangirls,' pseudo stalkers who were intent on using him to get closer to the queen, and all her power.
"Clopin, would you dance at the festival with me?" Marie Suzette blinked her long, dark lashes up at him and latched onto his arm.
He tried to find some way to deny her politely, but as he scrambled someone else stepped in.
"I'm sorry, but I've already claimed him." Jeanne appeared behind the pair, and smiling carefully at the girl, pulled Clopin away. Marie Suzette pouted.
"Merci. I though I was trapped."
Jeanne laughed for a moment, but focused again.
"I was telling the truth though, I need you to do my introduction."
Clopin turned to stare at her, his expression shocked.
"Your dancing?" his voice was flatly disbelieving.
She flushed slightly, and nodded.
"I need to do something, so they won't be expecting la Reinne to do anything else."
"Okay, when?" She smiled a little at him.
"Right after Esmeralda and Chante's dance. Introduce me as La Sirene, then get out of the way, alright?"
Clopin nodded. He understood. Also, this way, he'd get to see Esme dance. She liked that.
The Feast Of Fools was always dramatic, and ever since the Court of Miracles was formed, it had been getting more and more lawless. This was, if fact, the only day of the year that La Reinne ruled all of Paris, instead of just it's back streets. Clopin stood 'Backstage' and tugged at his shirt. It was Chante's gift to him, a bright suit of yellow, blue and purple. It came with a mask. He smiled brightly as Esmeralda as she came off, still a little dizzy from all the spinning she'd been doing. He slipped out, and swallowed some nerves. Why were there SO many people out here?
Clopin found Pierre's face, and nodded a little.
"Ladies and gentleman!" He cried theatrically, praying his voice didn't crack.
"La Sirene!" With that, he flipped himself forward, off the stage, right to Pierre's side. He wobbled a bit on his landing, but the bigger boy caught him, and steadied him. The simple flip actually got some applause, but it died out really quickly when Jeanne just… appeared.
She was wearing a dress. That was the first thing that managed to get through all the shock in Clopin's head. The dress was Blue and Green, and black. It shimmered and hugged curves Clopin hadn't realized Jeanne had. And then she started dancing. She moved with the sort of boneless, effortless grace cats have too much of, and women never really seem to accomplish. The music was slow, with no real beat. It just flowed on smoothly, providing a background for the dance.
Jeanne spun forward very slowly, making each movement and glance speak of nothing but desire. Every eye was locked on her.
Especially Clopin's.
Jeanne didn't really have to focus on the dance anymore. She knew the moves, from hours spent practicing with Chante. This was the dance that caught her father for her mother. This was the dance that turned every eye and wrapped itself in every breath, until the audience was gasping for breath.
Unbeknownst to them, four of her best Gypsies were climbing up the outside of Notre Dame. The bells had always rung in the Feast of Fools, before Claude Frollo. At least once in the day, the bells would ring, before.
Monsieur Judge had decided that the bells would only ring for holidays he approved of.
The Court of Miracles disagreed.
Jeanne spun, and twisted her spine around so her hair spun through the air after her. One arm lifted gracefully above her head and she froze, watching out of the corner of her eyes for the flash at the top of the tower.
There!
Her hand fell, and the bells chimed, filling the air with music.
The guards stirred, and she smirked at the look of shock and horror on Frollo's face.
She grabbed a pinch of glitter from her pouch, and 'vanished.'
Well, that went well.
The Court of Miracles celebrated their victory against Frollo that night. They were loud, their laughter filling the catacombs. Clopin was sure that many of them would be waking up tomorrow with horrible, pounding headaches. He was also sure that they would not bemoan them too much. The party tonight made up for the pain tomorrow.
Esme was off, giggling with a group of the girls, safely guarded by Chante.
Jeanne was sitting on her throne, drinking moodily, and pointedly trying to ignore the numerous young Gypsies and Rogues who all seemed to be madly infatuated with her.
Well, after that dance, Clopin could see how.
She'd been lovely before, he realized, but off limits. He'd never seen her be quite as dramatically female as she was earlier today.
She also looked trapped, and Clopin decided to go and see if he could help save her.
Carefully, he snuck up behind the throne, and tapped her shoulder. All the other boys were glaring at him, especially after she turned, and smiled at him.
"You saved me earlier." He whispered quietly. "Anything I can do to save you?"
She gave him a slow look, before raising and eyebrow.
"Will you forgive me?"
He didn't know what she was thinking, her large blue eyes gave him no hint.
"Yes?"
She twisted around on her throne, and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling Clopin's face towards her and pressing her lips to his. There was a second of silence in the court, before one drunken voice, which sounded suspiciously like Pierre's, yelled out "Good job, Lad!"
There was a roar of laughter, and the mood of the room turned away from them again. Jeanne's admirers dissipated, glaring daggers into the side of Clopin's head. Finally, she pulled away from him, leaving him panting.
She was breathing heavily, too, and her dark cheeks were flushed.
"Thanks, Clopin."
If I don't update before April 1st, I give you permission to throw pointy things at my skull. really.
