Hey, I'm back! Thanks to all that reviewed, it means quite a lot! I finally got the hang of all of this uploading nonsense, so we should be good!

~Ok, there were questions as to why Madame LeFua wanted Marianne out of the hanging sight once the men were hung in Chap 2. That was a screw up on my part, it wasn't explained the way I wanted it to be. You see, that's just her character, very strict, over protective, and practical. She just wanted to stay on the safe side even if Marianne was safe. The rest of that little confusing tidbit will be cleared up in later chapters.~ Sorry!

Disclaimer: Victor Hugo and Disney Corparations own HoND, NOT ME! (unfortunately). I do own my made-up characters--they are mine, you cannot have them!

Ten Years Later---Present Day:

Marianne sat on the balcony of Notre Dame, watching all of the people below her.

"The people in the square all look so small…like ants." She thought.

Marianne looked towards the bottom of Notre Dame and saw a brightly colored cart sitting there. She laughed to herself, thinking about Clopin and how he scared the children the other day by telling the tale of Quasimodo, making them run away from the cathedral when the large wooden doors opened. Now she could see some people gathered by the cart, no doubt listening to one of The Gypsy King's stories.

"It is rather beautiful, isn't it?" Marianne turned to see Quasimodo behind her.

"Yes, it truly is…"

When she was twelve, Marianne snuck away from Clopin, who was, as always, supposed to be watching her. But she got away and went into Notre Dame to explore. When she was young, Marianne heard the story of Quasimodo the Hunchback of Notre Dame and wanted to see him for herself. That's when she met the older boy. He was not the most…attractive person she'd ever met, but he was the most kind-hearted . They've been pretty good friends ever since. She gave him human companionship and he gave her an insight into the world and wonder around her. It was a gentle friendship, but a friendship none the less.

"Hey, Quasi, you know that the Feast of Fools is coming up. You should go! Clopin will be his usual off-the-wall self, but I know that there will dancing, games, lots of food, it'll be really fun."

"I don't think that's the best of ideas, Mari."

"Aw, come now, you know you want to go. Nothing is going to happen and I know you'll have a good time. You need to get out of here once in a while…"

"Master forbids me from leaving my Sanctuary." He said with a hint of remorse in his voice.

"Quasimodo, you do know that this "Sanctuary" isn't a haven unless there is something you need to be protected from?"

"This protection is from the outside world. I am ugly, a monster, I do not belong down there."

"Are you going to listen to Frollo for your whole life, or are you going to do something that you wish to do for once?" She scoffed.

"Mari, it is not that simple. You know that I am not…normal."

"And you think I am? Quasi, I'm a gypsy, I am always discriminated against, not considered normal by a long shot. And, hey, if everyone was normal there would be no normal."

He mulled this over for a moment. "I don't know. I'm going to think about it for now. Master will let me know if it's a good idea."

"I am sure he will…" she muttered. "Oh, speak of the devil!" She pointed down to an iron carriage stopping at the doors. "I should go before I'm caught up here. I'll see you later, Quasi! Remember what I said!"

"I will, bye!" He called as she ran down the stone steps.

She entered the chapel and slowed to a reverent walk passing the altar and candles. On her way out, she passed Frollo and kept her head down as he looked ahead, not giving her a second thought. Thank the good Lord…

When she reached the outside doors, Marianne walked over to the cart where Clopin was just finishing a story.

"And that, dear children, is the end of our story!"

"But-but we don't even know what happened!" One girl said.

"Yes, well, that is the point. You must figure out what you would do if you were the maid servant. So, when you see me next time, tell me what you would've done and we will end the story. Farewell, children!"

Marianne walked over to the cart and picked up one of the puppets.

"Do not tell me you told them that old "fair maid" story again."

"Alright then, I shall not tell you." He smiled widely.

"You tell that silly old tale almost every week! And you weren't even clever enough to add an ending. I'm surprised the children haven't mutinied you yet."

"Yes, yes, Clopin!" His mini-me puppet was now on his hand, squawking away. "The children shall have you hanged if you droll on the same old story!"

"Hush, silly boy. I am merely doing my duty as an entertainer."

"No, you are boring the children with stories of wonder and mystery! How dare you!"

"Now you know that I am one of the best story tellers in Paris!"

"I'm sure you are…"

"Clopin--" Marianne started.

"Excuse me, but we are talking here. If you do not mind." He continued talking away to his little piece of cloth.

"Alright, I guess I just have to go vandalize Notre Dame…" He didn't pay her any mind. "Fine. Then I shall steal twenty loaves of bread right in front of the bakers eyes!" Nothing. "Never mind, Clopin. I'll just go seduce Frollo now." She casually walked away.

"Oh, that is nice…WHAT?!"

"Ah, now you listen." She smirked. "I guess I hit a soft spot, didn't I?"

"No, you hit the Mari-needs-to-stop-saying-that spot." He growled. "That sick Judge is not coming within fifty yards of you, Mari."

"Well, I suppose that shall be a problem, because I am dancing in the Feast of Fools." He eyed her.

"No, Esmeralda is dancing in the Feast of Fools, you are playing those lovely little instruments of yours."

"Clopin! I can dance you know! And I know that if you just give me a chance I'll be great, you know that just as Esmeralda knows it, as Papa knew it."

"Father did not agree to letting you dance in any festival of any sort."

Since Clopin's "coronation" he had been calling their Papa "Father" mainly out of reverence for his father's name. Though, when he was named King at the young age of fifteen, he needed to show the gypsies that he was a strong person. Silly names for parents did not apply under the category of "King."

"Aw, come on! I get to dance in the streets--"

"Rarely."

"As I was saying," she snapped, "I get to dance in the streets, why not for the good old Judge himself?"

"Because I would prefer my sister to remain pure, and dancing in front of Frollo and the entire city will not help my preference for your…personal affairs."

"And just how, dear brother, do you know that I am pure?"

He merely quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, please, it's not like you are!" His other eyebrow reached the same height as the first, matching it in an equal status of irritation and smugness.

"I pray I will never hear those two sentences again. Or at least hear them at a lower level of volume."

"Clopin…" Mari gave him her "I know what you did" look.

"My personal affairs are not the focus of this discussion." He waved his hand dismissively. "What I want to know is, why you are so adamant on dancing in this year's festival."

She groaned and leaned against his cart. "I just want to do something other than play all of those instruments. They get quite old after a while." She held up her means of pay for the day, a fiddle.

"Oh, and you think that getting the entire town to focus on different activities is such a wonderful job?! You should think again, chere fille!"

She rolled her eyes and played a sad tune on the fiddle while looking serious. Clopin merely grinned from ear to ear, showing slightly chipped canines, and laughed, making her laugh as well.

"Now, let's see here…" he counted the coins in his small side pocket. "I have made quite a bit of pay out of the "fair maid" story. I suppose the children are not quite ready to mutiny me."

She just sighed and rolled her eyes once more. "Forgive me, King of Beggars," She knew he hated being addressed that way, "for I have committed a terrible act of misjudgment. Do not punish me." She bowed.

"You know, I thought that you were adorable once…Now I see sisters that are adorable you must also be irritating."

Marianne made a throw at him, but he dodged it quickly and continued dodging her as she tried to get a swipe at him. He finally grabbed her wrist and spun her around, making her loose her balance.

"Ah, I see I beat you once again. Haven't you learned, chere fille? No one can beat Clopin Trouillefou!" He laughed triumphantly. She just narrowed her eyes.

"Maybe if you didn't bounce all around the bloody street I could get a few good hits in."

"Maybe…highly doubtful, but maybe." He grinned mischievously.

"Fine. You beat me. I am going to go earn some money with my "lovely little instruments" now."

"I will see you later!" He called as she entered the crowds.

Marianne walked through hoards of people, coming to a stop by an alleyway and through down her old sack and played her fiddle while dancing along to it. Quickly as you please, coins were being thrown at the sack on the ground.

Here we go, left, back, up, right, left, left, right, up, back, left. Sidestep, spin, jump, sidespin, right, right, left, back… She recited the dance moves in her head as the tune flowed throughout the air. It was a simple dance to her, but to the local passerby it was a spectacle of wonder and beauty.

When she finally finished the song, she gathered up her coins and made her way back to the Court. It was the middle of the afternoon and she wanted to do some heckling down below with some merchant friends.

On her way out of the city, Marianne ran directly into a solid form, her sack falling to the ground, spare coins popping out. She grabbed the coins, sack, and fiddle and shot upright. When she looked up, Marianne saw the figure she had slammed into.

"So sorry sir--" She gasped when the guard showed his face. "Oh!" She got up and began to run.

The guard, though, was quicker. He grabbed her forearm and threw her to the ground. She yelped when her back hit the cobblestone street.

"Well, it looks like I have a little gypsy vermin caught in my net!" He laughed, sending a shiver down Marianne's spine. "Come on, you. We're gonna' take ya' down to the Palace O' Justice." The man yanked her off the ground, twisting her arm, making a bruise.

"I have done nothing wrong!" She pulled against his grip, but he held tighter.

"I'm sure ya' didn't, gypsy." She pulled harder, but to no avail. Then she kicked him in the knee, causing him to yell out. "Why you little devil!" He hit right across the face.

Marianne felt the hard contact of a bare hand with her temple. She slowly turned her head, dazed for a moment as he dragged her down the street. She kicked at the guard best she could while the guard pulled her along.

"Let go of me, you brute! I haven't committed a crime!"

"Shut your yap, gypsy." He snarled.

"Help! Help! This man is a liar, he is!" She managed to get the attention of people around her, hoping the guard would reconsider.

"Will you shut up!" He hit her again, knocking her to the ground. Marianne could feel trickles of blood run down her face and her back and arms began to sting.

With her vision blurring, she saw a new, bright figure approach her. It was a few moments of confusion before the shapes slowly took form. The guard was gone and the bright, blurry figure eased her off of the ground. It hurt, but Marianne got to her feet and blinked. There, standing in front of her was Clopin, eyebrows, as always, raised.

"Marianne," he said gently, "are you alright?"

She laughed nervously. "Uh, yeah…yeah, I-I'm fine." She laughed again. He eyed her.

"You are bleeding."

"It's a scratch."

"There is a gap on your forehead."

"It's a flesh wound."

"Mhmm. Is that so? A flesh wound?"

"Yes, see," she pulled back her long hair, "nothing."

Clopin frowned. The gash was long and deep, slowly healing, but disturbing and unsafe. He moved a gloved hand to her cheek and then touched the wound, making her yelp and flinch back. Tears were silently falling and she hastily wiped them away, her hand shaking.

"Let's get you home, child."

"No. I am fine. You should get back to the children anyways. I can make it home myself, Clopin."

"No, I do not think you can. Come," he held her forearm, "You can barely walk."

He led her to the entrance of the Court of Miracles, slowly making their way down the staircase. Marianne stumbled a bit, but remained steady for dignity's sake. Clopin was not convinced by a long shot that she was alright, and his focus kept darting back to her to see if she was alright. Halfway through the catacombs, Marianne gasped and swayed. Clopin caught her, alarmed.

"Mari, Mari, are you alright?"

Her eyes fluttered open. "Yes, I am fine, just let me walk…" She stood up, but then fell again.

"I think that wound is worse than you let on…" Clopin let the sentence trail off as Marianne struggled to stand up.

After a moment, Clopin picked Marianne up and carried her through the catacombs, rushing to get back to the Court of Miracles. When he nearly reached the entrance, the guards in their skeleton costumes stopped him.

"Halt--Ah, Clopin, it's you." He looked at Marianne, limp in his arms. "Is Miss Marianne alright?"

"She is wounded, but she'll be fine. I'll just patch her up and she'll be her old self again." He smiled as the guard bid him a goodnight.

When they reached the tent, Clopin laid Marianne down on cushions and sheets, gently pulling her light chestnut hair from her face. She stirred, but didn't wake, and Clopin grabbed anything he had to heal his sister's gash.

He used a bottle of whiskey he had lying around--for special occasions, of course. When he put it on a cloth and dabbed Marianne's forehead with it, she opened her eyes, moaning in pain.

"W-what are you doing?" She said, her voice a whisper.

"Fixing your injury, chere fille."

"It hurts," she whined.

"I know. It's going to hurt for a few more minutes." He grabbed a string and needle, ready to start stitching.

"Oh no…that's going to hurt…"

"I know. Just relax and it'll be over with."

Clopin did his best to ignore his sister's moans and cries of pain as he closed up the gash in her head. It took a while to finish, with her squirming throughout the entire thing. A thin layer of sweat covered her face and her eyes were glazed with confusion and pain.

"Mari, child, are you alright?"

It took a moment for the comment to register in her confused brain. She looked up at Clopin, her eyes unfocused.

"Ah, yes…I feel okay…" She now sounded dreamy and dazed.

He sighed with relief. At least she was only a bit loopy, with no permanent damage. Clopin put some blankets around her, brushing sticky pieces of hair out of her face.

"Clopin, will you stay?"

"Of course. I hope you are alright, Mari."

"I'm alright, better actually. I feel really good…" She giggled.

"Mari, I think that head injury is finally kicking in."

"Head? What head? Head rhymes with bed. Bed, head, bed, head, bed, head…"

Clopin only rolled his eyes and watched her mumble the little rhyme for about five minutes. Marianne giggled some more before stopping and yawned.

"I'm tired…"

"Then get some rest."

"I'm afraid, though."

"Afraid of what?"

"Bad dreams. They are not nice, not nice."

"You won't have any bad dreams, chere fille."

"Promise?"

"I promise," he said gently.

"Okay. And Clopin?"

"Yes?"

"I am going to kick that guard's ass when I go back into the city. Brutes."

With that, her eyes closed and she settled into even breaths. Clopin laughed and watched her sleep. Same old Mari…

"What happened now?"

Clopin turned around to see Esmeralda standing in the entrance to his tent, eyebrows raised.

"We had a bit of trouble with the guards."

"I see. Well, Mari seems to have had a lot of excitement tonight."

"I think she did."

They both broke into laughter, easily breaking the tension.

Thanks for reading! Please, criticism and compliments are greatly needed! RXR PLEASE!!!

I remain, readers, your humble servant

~SpeakUpAndFaceTheMusic