Disclaimer: I still do not own Hunchback of Notre Dame. That is owned by Disney and Victor Hugo. All I own is Gitana, Eskarne, Latimer, Celie, Jacques, Algernon, Dartagnan, and Audric.

To a few of my reviewers:

Brad: Thank you for giving me words of encouragement as I worked on the first chapter, and I might even throw in another beheading for you somewhere along the way. ;)
Adia: Celie and Gitana will both work to make this story amazing, along with the help of some other characters that are going to take MAJOR roles in the story. I hope I do not let you down.
Lynn: Sadly, I was rushing myself to finish when I made it towards the end of the chapter. In the future I may edit chapter 1 to clarify a few of your questions, but for now, I'll do it here. Well, I want readers to assume that Eskarne hadn't gotten that far since stopping with Gitana. I really hope you continue to read as the chapters grow.
Bernie: Thank you for your review. I would have had Latimer and Eskarne be more active, but they were sitting in the dark trying not to wake their children. I hope you continue to read the story.

Now, on to the story.

Chapter Two: A New Beginning

Gitana Aurelia awoke the next morning with a tear stained face and a blood caked dress. She stood up and stretched, but was reminded of the cut on her side by the pain that immediately followed as the scab was pulled. The girl took in her surroundings now that it was daylight, and as she did so, she tried to avoid looking at her mother's body.

'The guards left that way,' she noted to herself as her gaze landed on retreating footprints. With that, she started to walk along the trail the two men had left the night before. After making her way to the forest's edge, her parent's wagon in sight, Gitana turned back to the trees.

"Je t'aime Mama. Je t'aime Papa," she whispered, tears flooding her eyes once more.

Morning in Paris, the city awakes

To the bells of Notre Dame

The fisherman fishes, the bakerman bakes

To the bells of Notre Dame

To the big bells as loud as the thunder

To the little bells soft as a psalm

And some say the soul of the city's

The toll of the bells

To the bells of Notre Dame

Gitana heard the beautiful melody of church bells in the near distance. "The bells of Notre Dame! Just like mama sang to me!" she exclaimed excitedly, remembering the lullaby her mother always sang to her at night.

"Paris is close, that means I can find the Court of Miracles," she commented aloud to herself.

And indeed Paris was close, for as she followed the bend in the road, she came to a beautiful arrangement of storefronts and houses. Every so often there would be laundry strung out from one house to another, at other times she would see beggars in the street, pleading for food and money from the wealthier Parisians. A few passerbys gave the child disgusted looks, noticing both that she was a gypsy and her blood stained outfit. As she made her way to the town center, near the steps of Notre Dame, she took in the full effect of the gypsies of Paris. It seemed that on every corner or in front of every empty store there were gypsies begging or performing for money from the gadje citizens. To her left was a beautiful gypsy woman dancing to music played by two gypsy men, one with a tambourine and the other with a fiddle. This woman was obviously a very popular performer, seeing as she had one of the larger crowds in the square. But the attraction that really caught Gitana's eye was a brightly colored puppet wagon placed near a streetlight at the corner of Notre Dame.

"...and that is why we come to have puppeteers," proudly stated the man who had finished telling the story.

"But I thought that puppeteers were there to take all the credit for the work we puppets do!" exclaimed the man's puppet in a shrill voice, crossing it's little puppet arms across it's chest.

"No, no, no, you silly boy! We don't take credit for your work. The children love you! That's enough credit as it is!" the man clarified for his puppet, and to the delight of the children, the puppet uncrossed his arms and bowed goodbye to them. Once the curtain was pulled shut on the wagon, the children and their parents burst into applause for the performance and the coin bucket quickly filled with their appreciation and enjoyment.

Gitana was more interested in the man controlling the puppet than the bit of the performance she saw, not to say that she didn't enjoy the performance, oh, she did enjoy it, but he appeared to be friendly towards children, which was exactly what she needed.

She observed the man as he let the children play with his puppets and innocently flirted with their mothers. Everything about him seemed to have a kind, joyous edge to it. Even to the small eight year old, he appeared to be very handsome. He seemed to be in his mid-fourties. His neat black hair was starting to gray, and wrinkles were starting to form around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth.

Gitana approached the man cautiously as he was talking with the mother of a short, pudgy, blonde boy of about ten. Once she was sure their conversation was ending, she asked "Um, excuse me mister, could you help me find my way?"

"I suppose we will see you tomorrow then, Dartagnan," smiled the mother of the boy, and with that she walked away, boy in tow.

'Dartagnan, that name sounds familiar,' she thought to herself.

"What is it I can do for you, sweetie?" he asked, stooping down on one knee so he was at her eye-level and smiling broadly, the slight trace of laughter still in his eyes.

"How do I get to the Court of Miracles?"

Alarm briefly flashed over his face, but was quickly replaced with another smile. He took Gitana by the arm, and guided her over to another street corner.

"You are to follow this street down to the cemetary, but once there, wait. One of our people will come for you, I promise. Now I need you to promise me something, too," he explained in a hushed whisper. Gitana's big brown eyes looking up at him were enough of an answer. "I need you to promise not to tell ANYONE where you're going. Never tell anyone you were told to wait in the cemetary. And do not try to enter the Court unless no gadje around."

And with that Dartagnan was gone, leaving Gitana all alone on the street corner.


"Judge Frollo, this gypsy girl was found in the wood's last night with her family. Her mother and father were killed, as ordered. I am sorry to report that she had a sister, but her death was accidental," reported Jacques nervously. As many times as he had done this, he could never do it comfortably, or, at least, not if he was reporting to Frollo.

"That will do. Take the girl to the servants chambers, give her name to Madame Fabrice, also, tell Fabrice to have her clean and alert, I expect her in my office at noon tomorrow to decide what to do with her. You are dismissed, gentlemen," Frollo stated, bored of listening to their silly reports.

Jacques and Bertrand let out the breath they hadn't noticed they were holding in. The pair walked out the door of Frollo's office in a hurry, obviously intimidated.

Frollo smiled to himself at the reaction he never failed to get out of his guards. He paced the length of the wall length window which served as his overlook on the town below.

'Oh, how things have changed,' the judge thought to himself as he fingered the emerald set into the ring on his hand. 'A few years ago I'd have given anything to be with Annette, that was, until her people made a mockery of my family. No, she was not worth it after all.'

His thoughts were interrupted by a powerful knock on his office doors.

"Enter," he called out, rubbing his temples in annoyance.

"Bonsoir, Judge Frollo. You requested a meeting with me. My name is Audric Bailey, I was recently hired as Captain of the Guard," the newcomer stated.

Frollo walked over to the younger man, looking him over. The man definitely was built to be Captain of the Guard. Audric had a masculine build, harsh, grey eyes, short, blonde hair, perfectly straight posture, and an all around 'all business' look to him.

"Yes, you will do," Frollo nodded in approval. "Every night, after the bells ring eleven, you and your guards are to arrest any gypsy caught out on the street, that is your main concern. For now, leave me to my... business..."

Audric nodded in understanding, and with that, Frollo was once more alone in his office.

"Now I'll just have to deal with the new servant girl tomorrow. I suppose there is a use for gypsies while they're young after all."