Carmen paused while combing out her hair and glanced into the mirror. Her curls had fallen out, leaving her hair tangled but straight. Her brown eyes, flecked with gold, shone in the light of the setting sun. She was grateful for her eyes and her lips, because those were the only things she felt confident in. She didn't have a voluptuous chest, or lean body, or small butt. Her wipe hips accentuated a thin waist, glazed over with a layer of fat.

And after noticing that Clopin only wore the brightest of colors, Carmen had borrowed Mirela's bright yellow dress, trimmed in white lace. It was the brightest dress they had.

Stuffing her hand purse into a pocket on the dress, Carmen told her Aunt she was going out for dinner. She didn't say where, or with whom, but her Aunt didn't seem to care very much anyways. She never had.

Carmen had just closed the door to the inn behind her where she heard a commotion down the street. Ducking behind a corner, Carmen saw the beggar man from the other day. His leg was still 'missing' as well as his arm, but he had taken the paint off his teeth.

He held out a shaky hand to the soldier in front of him. "Charity, good soul?"

"Charity?" The soldier cackled. "You're a fake!" He tore the gypsy's shirt, revealing an arm folded across his stomach, and yanked him to his feet. The missing leg unfolded and flopped into view.

'Charity, good soul?" He asked again, his voice soft.

The soldier threw the gypsy on the street and pulled out a length of rope. Another soldier on horseback rode by Carmen. His armor was bright and polished silver, and black hair poked out from under his helmet. "Stop! My men are not to act like this!"

"Captain, he's a fake!" The soldier started. "He was pretending that his leg was missing!"

"There are more important matters than a fake beggar," The Captain reasoned.

"Captain, arrest him!" A voice rang out. There was definitely power in his voice, with anger and age. Carmen turned around to run. But the man was behind her, riding a massive black stallion. His face was pale, thin and wrinkled. Dark circles were under is cold, dark eyes. He ignored Carmen completely; his attention was so focused on the gypsy.

"Minister Frollo!" The soldier straightened up immediately, and nodded to Frollo. He then bound the gypsy's arms and hauled him out of sight.

"Sir, I don't think that-"

"Let me make it clear to you," Frollo snapped. "If you see a gypsy with money or begging for it, you arrest them on the spot. Do you understand?"

The Captain had a resigned look on his face as he nodded, pulling his horse away. Carmen wanted to speak up, but was terrified of the possibility that he would discover she was a gypsy. Gulping, she turned around and took another route to the tavern. She knew that if the gypsy had to disguise himself as a lame man in order to earn money, he surely needed it. Carmen wanted to see Clopin. She needed to see him.

"Papa?" A girl whispered. Carmen stopped and looked behind her, spotting a girl her age, also a gypsy. She was small, her hair a golden brown, eyes a bright blue. She seemed lost. Or maybe she was looking for someone that was lost.

"Are you alright?" Carmen asked.

"I didn't steal anything!" The girl said submissively, sinking into the shadows.

"I didn't say you did," Carmen said gently.

"I'm looking for my Papa," The girl said after a moment, glancing around.

"Well," Carmen took a few careful steps forward. "What does he look like?"

The girl bit her lip. "He's missing an arm and a leg."

Carmen bit her own lip, holding back a gasp. But the girl noticed anyways.

"What?"

"I'm so sorry!" Carmen cried, her hands flying to her mouth. The girl began to cry, muttering in a language Carmen didn't understand. Guilt pooled in her stomach. "He was just arrested. They shouldn't have done it."

The girl was silent for another moment, but collected herself. She seemed to have no idea what to do next.

"I'm having dinner with a friend at the tavern nearby," Carmen started, her heart going out to the girl that lost her father. "I would be delighted if you came."

The girl smiled and nodded. They walked to the tavern, getting to know one another. The girls name was Dena, and she was a storyteller. As they walked into the tavern, Clopin spotted the two of them as they entered, frowning.

"You didn't tell me your friend was Clopin!" Dena whispered, shocked.

"You know him?"

"Who doesn't?"

Carmen shrugged. She couldn't be expected to know everything so soon.

"Dena! How are you?" Clopin asked with a very familiar tone. Carmen sat beside Clopin as Dena pulled up another chair.

"Papa was arrested," She whispered, her thin lips barely moving.

Clopin's eyes gleamed in the fire light. He had the most beautiful dark brown eyes, and you could barely tell where the iris ended and his pupil began. "Not Matias!"

Dena's shoulders sagged.

"How did you two meet?"

"We found each other," Carmen explained. "On my way over."

"I'll just get a drink," Dena excused herself, going to the counter.

Carmen turned to Clopin. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't leave her there. She was so lost, and it was so unfair! If her father was so desperate for money that he had to play the part of an injured man, he had enough on his plate already! And I can't believe-"

Dena came back and sat down.

"Can't believe what?" Clopin asked, smirking.

Carmen narrowed her eyes at him, and looked down at the table. "How ugly Frollo is."

Dena laughed.

But so did Clopin.

"The end all King of Fools!" Dena chuckled, sipping on her mug.

Carmen laughed as well, before looking at Clopin. "But, you promised to tell me the story of the bell ringer. Remember?" She looked right into his eyes, entranced by the warm glow that made her want to melt.

"Yes, yes, of course," Clopin cleared his throat, repositioning himself in the chair. "Just over twenty years ago, dark was the night where our tale-"

"Carmen!" Mirela's voice rang out over the crowd. She had a blushing Gilbert behind her. "I didn't know you were here!"

Carmen flushed and sank down in her seat. "I told her not to come," She hissed under her breath. Her heart was breaking. Sure, Dena would have left soon enough, but she couldn't escape from Mirela.

"Can we eat with you?" Mirela asked. And another man stepped into the tavern.

Michel.

Mirela how dare you.

Clopin was frowning again. Carmen couldn't help loving his frown as much as his smile, the way his brow furrowed as his mouth pulled at all the skin on his face. He didn't care if the whole world knew he was upset, he would just throw it in their face with more enthusiasm. But he shrugged.

"Let's move to a bigger table."

After rearranging themselves at a long table near the back, right next to an open window and nothing like the cozy chairs by the fireplace, everyone started talking at once. Carmen somehow found herself trapped between Clopin and Michel.

This was going to be fun.

"Dena, how did you meet Carmen?" Gilbert asked with a warm smile.

Carmen cocked an eyebrow. "Does everyone know each other?"

"We're all like family." Dena explained.

"You all live together?" Carmen asked.

Everyone not so discreetly looked to Clopin, who took a sip of his wine. Carmen looked to Mirela, who was busy staring at Gilbert, who for the first time all night, wasn't looking at her.

"Carmen, why don't we get some food for everybody?" Michel said, clearing his throat. Carmen tried to resist, but Clopin waved her off. So she followed Michel to the counter. "You ask too many questions."

"I noticed."

Dinner flew by, with everyone eventually relaxing, joking and swapping stories. The group was just leaving the tavern when their luck ran out.

A guard was standing just outside the tavern door, just waiting for trouble. Clopin tried to lead the others away, but it didn't work. "Scoundrels!" The soldier hissed. "Always slithering in and out of these decrepit taverns!"

"Excuse me?" Mirela turned around, cocking her hip.

"These people will rob you blind!" The soldier explained.

"Madeline," Carmen grabbed onto her cousins elbow. "It's not worth it. Let's just go home."

"Leave me alone, Camille!" She shook Carmen off. "They've done nothing wrong!"

"They do nothing right!" The soldier argued.

"You aren't right!"

The soldier grabbed Mirela by the wrist and everyone grew tense. "I'd leave before you get your miserable friends thrown in jail!"

"I would leave if you let go of me!" Mirela shrieked. Carmen grabbed onto her cousins wrist again, and started to pull the girl away.

"Sir, I promise you that my sister will be more careful in the future, just please let her go!" Carmen begged. Mirela shrieked again, but in pain as the soldier tightened his grip. In retaliation, she dug her nails into the skin just beneath his fingernails. He yelled and let pulled his hand away.

Everyone ran.

Carmen fastest of all.

She ducked into a small alley, Mirela right behind her, when she lost her balance. Mirela slammed into her back and both hit the stone wall before crumpling on the street. It took Carmen a moment to open her eyes, but she wished that she didn't.

The soldier was standing over the two girls, staring at Mirela, who had almost passed out. He yanked her up and began to tie her wrists behind her back.

"No," Carmen murmured hoarsely, reaching a hand out.

The soldier glared at the young woman. "She's going to learn the hard way, and I suggest you don't follow her."

As he dragged her off, Carmen pulled herself to her knees and cried. She had no idea where her cousin was going, what they would do to her.

If she would ever see Mirela again.

"They'll put her in the stocks."

Carmen stifled a sob and turned around. She wanted it to be Clopin, but Michel was standing behind her. He gently pulled the crying girl to her feet and wiped the tears off her face. "How long?"

"Only a day or two."

Carmen bit her lip, trying not to cry again. Michel pulled Carmen into a tight hug and she melted into the familiarity. His eyes were almost identical to Clopin's. But she didn't love his eyes. Carmen loved Clopin's eyes.

And even though it went against everything that she had ever been taught, everything she once believed in, she loved Clopin.

Merde.