***Thanks so much to SB 23 for reviewing everything! And to everyone else who has left a review :hug: You guys motivate me to keep writing.

I didn't mean for this update to take so long. I've been in and out of the hospital with my asthma and been prescribed several steroids. Any pharmacist (or nurse, or doctor) can tell you that those are used as immunosuppressants, which worries me slightly with the recent COVID-19 outbreak. I've been busy trying to get a doctor's excuse for work so that I can stay home and heal. Amidst all of this, I've finally figured out what I needed to do with this story. Hopefully the next chapters will be up in quick succession, we'll see**

Clopin Troulliefou was worried about his sister.

He didn't want to be worried about her; he preferred it when he could be angry with her. She did not deserve his concern, not after her ultimate betrayal of her people. In fact, it could be argues that it was his duty to cast her out. But she was still his baby sister, and seeing how weak and worn and depressed she had become had promptly swept his anger out the door.

Crying and curling up in a ball, wanting to sleep all the time, not feeling hungry despite her condition—she wasn't ok. She wasn't herself.

He attempted to push his thoughts away by focusing on the task at hand. Kicking his heels into the sides of his "borrowed" horse, he strained his neck to see where he was going. Unlike Es, Clopin was not sleepy at all, his thoughts kept him awake.

He was going to the labor camps to find his mother.

The first fingers of daylight were softly creeping over the horizon when the horse stopped in front of the stone compound. Clopin dismounted and stepped forward to lay a hand on the wall. Moisture seeped through his glove, bringing with it the lifeless chill of the ominous stones.

With a shudder, he yanked his hand back to his side, shaking the sodden glove from his hand. The fabric was contaminated now, stained by the ubiquituous despair seeping from this horrible place. Bile rose in his throat at the thought that his mother had been kept here for 20 years.

No guards bothered Clopin as he walked around the compound in search of an entrance. They must have gotten word that their employer was dead, and had left their posts. Clopin didn't blame them.

He found the door, which immediately divided into the men's and women's sleeping quarters. Straw crunched under his boot as he walked. It took him a few seconds for him to realize that this meant the straw was dry.

Dry, clean, and surprisingly fresh. He brought a few stalks to his nose and sniffed—no odor of mold. The minister had clearly taken pains to ensure that the sleeping quarters were sanitary. Clopin was baffled at first, refusing to believe that the Minister of Justice could have possibly felt compassion for another human being. After a few moments, he decided that Frollo was only trying to prevent disease outbreaks that could have wiped out his workforce.

Clopin stepped over the bodies of the sleeping women, examining their faces as best as he could in the weak light. A few of them began to stir. "Who are you?" one of them mumbled groggily.

"I'm Clopin Troulliefou. I'm here to find my mother."

A soft, wavering voice wove through the chilly air. "Did you say 'Troulliefou'?"

"Yes." Suddenly very alert, he glanced around to see a woman shakily getting to her feet.

"Clopin?"

"Mom." Choking back a sob, he ran forward to embrace her. Her shaking arms wrapped clumsily around his waist as she cried into his shirt.

"My little baby boy," she whispered unsteadily between sobs. "Look at you. All grown up. Why, you are taller than I am." She reached up around his neck and pulled down, urging him to kneel. He complied, not protesting when she covered his face in wet, tear-stained kisses. (He, was, however, secretly glad that this was not happening in front of all of his brethren.)

But she pulled away all too soon. "Where is my Esmeralda?" she asked longingly.

Clopin winced. "Umm." He coughed. "About that…"

"No," Gudule whimpered. "No, no, no. Oh, Clopin, did you break your promise to me?"

"She's alive," Clopin explained quickly. "She's…she's not well."

"What's wrong with her?" Gudule asked anxiously.

Clopin opened his mouth to lie; then he caught his mother's pleading gaze. He couldn't do this to her; he couldn't! "She's pregnant…"

"Oh!" Gudule cried, interrupting him.

"The father is dead. She is not taking it well…"

"Take me to her!" Gudule interrupted him a second time, grabbing his shirt fiercely. "She needs someone to take care of her."

"Mom," Clopin winced, "I'm not sure you're ready to…"

"Now!" Gudule insisted. "She is sick! I need to be with her! Now! Do you have a horse?"

Actually, he had somebody else's horse, but he didn't feel the need to share that information…

*0*0*0*0*0*

It took them all day to get back to the Court of Miracles. Clopin was tired, the horse was tired, and Gudule wasn't young anymore. He wanted nothing more than to reunite his mother with Esmeralda so that he could go to his wagon and sleep. After being awake all night, he was exhausted.

Robotically, he walked to his sister's tent, pulling the flap open. Inside, it was empty. "Esmeralda?" she asked.

"We haven't seen her all day," one of his clansmen remarked.

"She woke up sometime late this morning, but she left immediately. Didn't tell anyone where she was going," another added.

"No," Clopin groaned. "No. No. No." He sank to the ground sobbing, only partially aware of his mother weeping at his side.

A/N: Bet you guys can guess where she went (: