A/N: Hey everyone! I'm pretty new to the HoND fandom and have really enjoyed the stories I've found so far. After watching both Disney movies, Madellaine quickly became a favorite! I wasn't a fan of the sequel's plot, so I've been inspired by the Disney Twisted Tales series to do a bit of a fix-it fic. It's not a "What If?" story, but I hope you'll enjoy this different take from her and Quasi's perspectives!
Ordinary Miracles
by waterfallsilverberry
1
THE bustling streets of Paris stretched out before Madellaine as the circus caravan rolled into the city. Her heart raced, caught between excitement and anxiety. In the distance, the grand towers of Notre Dame stood tall, their bells ringing out with a melodic welcome. This was it—the city she had dreamed about for so long.
For as far back as she could remember, Madellaine had longed to escape the circus and start over somewhere new. Paris, with its promise of freedom and adventure, seemed like the perfect place to begin.
She had been part of the circus for years, ever since Sarousch, her master, had taken her in as a six-year-old orphan. He had trained her to be his assistant, but it wasn't just her beauty that caught his eye. Madellaine had a gift—quick hands and quicker thinking. Under Sarousch's watch, she became more than an assistant to him on stage. She became a thief, using her beauty and grace to distract while her fingers did the rest. It was a life she hated, but Sarousch always reminded her that she owed him everything.
The caravan came to a stop in the heart of the city, and the performers got to work, setting up their tents with swift precision. The empty square soon turned into a colorful swirl of activity. Madellaine forced a smile and joined in, though her thoughts were far from the circus.
"Madellaine!" Sarousch's voice cut through the air like a knife. "Come here, my little trinket."
She hurried to his side, bile rising painfully in her throat at the thought of whatever new scheme he had in mind.
Sarousch was tall and intimidating, with piercing blue eyes that seemed to see through every lie. His dark, slicked-back hair stood out against his olive skin, highlighting his sharp features. His thin smile never reached his eyes, making him even more unsettling. Dressed in perfectly tailored dark clothes, his every movement showed his authority and added to the unease he caused in others.
"Madellaine, my little éclair," he began, his voice unexpectedly gentle, his voice a smooth, buttery purr that immediately set her on edge. "How are you finding Paris? Such a grand city, isn't it?"
Madellaine was caught off guard by his tone. "Y-yes, Master Sarousch, i-it is… beautiful," she stammered, not sure what else to say to the man.
"Indeed," he nodded, his eyes seeming to soften. "A city full of opportunities, for those who know where to look."
Her heart raced, unsure of where this conversation was heading. "I…I suppose so, Master."
Sarousch's gaze remained fixed on her, assessing her reaction. "I want you to feel at home here, Madellaine. After all, you are like family to me."
The words felt like a trap, but she forced a smile. "T-Thank you, Master. Y-you're too…too kind."
Sarousch nodded, though as he spoke, his tone turned clipped, and a shadow passed over his features. "We have an important task tonight," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Notre Dame holds many treasures, and I intend to make some of them ours. You will help me. Up in the towers of the cathedral, there is a bellringer who lives there. Smile at him, wile and beguile him, and he'll tell you exactly what I want to know, where the treasures are kept."
Madellaine's heart sank. "B-but, Master Sarousch, the cathedral is holy ground. Surely there are other ways to—"
"Silence!" Sarousch snapped, grabbing her arm with a vice-like grip. "You forget your place, éclair. You will do as I say. Need I remind you again, who took you in, and raised you like a true friend, dear?"
Madellaine felt her face freeze and her anger swell as he mentioned yet again the life debt he lorded over her head. She felt her breath catch in her throat at her master's words as she processed what it was he wanted out of her. The bellringer.
From the moment their caravan entered the city, she had heard stories of the man who lived in the cathedral, ringing the bells that echoed across the city.
Quasimodo, Notre Dame's bellringer was called. Some called him a monster, but others spoke of his gentle nature and kind heart. Despite her fear, Madellaine's curiosity was piqued.
Madellaine's eyes darted nervously around. She sincerely hoped no one noticed their exchange. She took a deep breath, trying to muster her courage.
"Y-you did," she whispered, remembering she owed Sarousch an answer. "B-But Master, the bellringer…I-I've heard he's kind a-and he doesn't—"
Sarousch's grip on her wrist tightened, his vice hold a warning as he leaned in closer, his face inches from hers.
"Kind?" he sneered, bearing his teeth at her as he scoffed. "Do not let tales of the monster's 'kindness' cloud your judgment, my little éclair. He is merely a means to an end. You will befriend him, and gain his trust. He is the key to our success, trinket."
Madellaine's stomach churned, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. "Wh-what if he sees through our plan?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Wh-what if he discovers that I—"
Sarousch's other hand shot up, silencing her protests with a single finger pressed to her lips.
"Hush, trinket," he hissed, his blue eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her blood run cold. "Have you forgotten the debt you owe me? The food, the shelter, the training, the coin I've given you to ensure that you could want for nothing—everything I have given you. You would be nothing without me, on the streets, begging for scraps and dependent on the charity of passing strangers."
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let him see her cry. "I-I understand, Master," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I-I will do as you say."
Sarousch's grip loosened slightly, and he stepped back, a satisfied smile curling his lips.
"Good," he said, his tone softer but no less menacing. "Remember, Madellaine, your freedom depends on this. Do not fail me. You know what happens if you do."
He released her arm, and she stumbled back, rubbing the bruised skin where his fingers had dug in. She watched as he disappeared into the crowd, his tall figure blending in with the throng of performers and onlookers. Madellaine stood there for a moment, her mind a whirlwind of fear and determination.
She had to find a way out of this life, and if gaining this bellringer's trust was her only option, she would take it. But she also knew she couldn't betray him, not truly. She would find another way, a way to protect Notre Dame's bellringer and free herself from Sarousch's grasp.
As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the bustling square, Madellaine left their circus's camp and made her way toward Notre Dame. The towering structure seemed even more imposing up close, its gothic spires reaching towards the heavens. She hesitated at the entrance, the weight of her mission pressing down on her shoulders.
She let out a frustrated breath, her mind racing with conflicting emotions. Guilt gnawed at her insides, a constant companion since that fateful day. She wished she had never stolen those coins from Sarousch when she was only six.
But she had to pick someone, and he seemed like an easy mark. Her parents had died of sickness, leaving her with no one to care for her. Alone and desperate, she had seen no other choice but to steal to survive.
Madellaine often replayed that moment in her mind. She remembered the hunger that clawed at her belly and the cold that seeped into her bones as she wandered the streets. She had watched Sarousch from a distance, noting the way he moved with an air of authority, his pockets seemingly always full. In her young mind, he represented a solution, a way out of her dire situation.
But the coins she had stolen had been a mere pittance to him. He had caught her easily, his piercing blue eyes locking onto her with an intensity that made her heart race with fear.
Instead of turning her over to the authorities, Sarousch had taken her in, a gesture she had once thought of as an act of kindness. He had provided her with food, shelter, and a place within his circus. But over the years, she had come to understand the true price of his generosity. He reminded her constantly of the debt she owed him, using it to manipulate and control her.
Now, as she stood at the entrance of Notre Dame, Madellaine's heart ached with regret. She longed for a different life, one where she wasn't bound by the chains of her past mistakes.
The thought of deceiving the church's bellringer filled her with dread, but she knew she had no choice. Sarousch's hold on her was too strong, and she feared the consequences of defying him.
Letting out a frustrated breath, she stepped inside. The air inside the cathedral was cool, the structure's interior bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, and the air was filled with the faint scent of incense. The scent of the candles helped calm her frayed nerves a bit.
Madellaine's footsteps echoed softly as she walked down the long aisle, her eyes scanning the vast space for any sign of the bellringer she was meant to befriend.
Madellaine's heart pounded as she approached the altar, where the golden glow of the candles seemed to offer a sliver of hope. She paused, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind.
She turned to see the Archdeacon, a tall man with a kind but concerned expression, striding towards her. His hair, white as snow, framed his weathered face, and his green eyes looked gentle, even when cracked and red at the edges as they were, due to his exhaustion.
His robes billowed slightly with each step, the white fabric contrasting with the gold embroidery that hinted at his high rank within the church. Despite his old age, his posture was erect, and there was an aura of quiet strength about him. His robes billowed slightly with each step, and his eyes fixed on her with a mix of curiosity and concern.
"May I help you, my child?" the Archdeacon asked, his deep voice echoing through the vast space.
Madellaine's heart skipped a beat, and she felt a rush of panic. She hadn't prepared for this and had not expected to find any souls wandering the prayer hall, especially at this hour.
"I-I…" she stammered, her mind racing for an excuse. "I-I was just…I-I mean, I h-heard there was someone who lives here, someone who…who rings the bells?"
The Archdeacon's expression hardened, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Our bellringer has a name, my dear. It is Quasimodo, and yes, he does live here," he said, his tone suddenly clipped and defensive. "He is under my protection. Why do you wish to see him?"
Madellaine swallowed hard, feeling her cheeks flush bright pink with embarrassment. "I-I just…my-my name is Madellaine, I-I'm with the circus that's come, a-and I've….I've heard stories, and I was curious. They-they say he's kind, a-and I thought maybe…maybe I could meet him?"
The Archdeacon's gaze bore into her, and for a moment, Madellaine feared he would see through her lie.
"Curiosity can be dangerous, child," he said sharply. "Quasimodo is not a spectacle to be gawked at, my dear, not like one of the animals I'm sure your circus keeps for entertainment and the amusement of the people who come to see your troupe. He is a person, with dignity and feelings. If you have no true reason to be here other than to pray, then I suggest you leave. Our bellringer is a kind and gentle soul who's suffered enough. He does not need more trials added into his life now."
Madellaine's eyes widened in alarm. She knew she could not return to camp and Sarousch without news of her progress, and she felt desperation welling up inside her.
"I-I understand," she said quickly, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to offend. I just… I wanted to see for myself if the stories were true. I'm new to the city, and I thought—"
"You thought what, child?" The Archdeacon interrupted, his tone gentle though it brooked no argument. The meaning behind his clipped tone was clear. "That you could waltz into the house of God and satisfy your idle curiosity? This is not a circus, my dear."
Tears stung at Madellaine's eyes, and she blinked them back, feeling utterly foolish. She had not thought any of this through at all. Sarousch would be furious.
"I-I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I-I didn't mean a-any disrespect. I-I'll just…I'll go."
She turned on her heels to go, her heart heavy with shame and fear. But as she walked away, a thought struck her. This might be her only chance to reach this bellringer, to warn him about Sarousch's plan. She couldn't give up now. She had to see him. Summoning every ounce of courage she had left, she turned back to the Archdeacon.
"Please," she said, her voice stronger this time. "I-I'm not here to-to gawk at him. I…I need to speak with him. It's-it's important. Th-there's something he needs to know, something that could put him in danger."
The Archdeacon studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. "You speak with conviction, my child, but I cannot trust the word of a stranger. If you truly mean to help, you need to prove your intentions."
Madellaine's heart sank. "H-how can I do that?" she asked desperately.
The Archdeacon's eyes softened slightly. "Return tomorrow," he said. "Show me that you are sincere, and perhaps I will reconsider. But for now, you must leave. This is a house of God, and I will not have it disturbed by those with uncertain motives."
Madellaine nodded, her heart heavy with disappointment. "Thank you," she whispered. "I-I promise to come back." As she left the cathedral, the weight of her mission pressed down on her shoulders. She had failed to reach Quasimodo tonight, but she wouldn't give up.
Tomorrow, she would return and prove to the Archdeacon that she meant no harm. She would find a way to warn Quasimodo and protect him from Sarousch's schemes. She had to. For both their sakes.
The night air grew colder as Madellaine walked away from Notre Dame, the cold seeping through her thin, threadbare clothing. She shivered, clutching at herself for warmth, wishing she had thought to bring a shawl. But her mind had been too preoccupied with her task at hand to consider anything else.
Returning to their circus camp was out of the question. Sarousch's presence there was suffocating, and she didn't think she could bear to face him again tonight.
She wandered the darkened streets of Paris, her footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestones. The city was quieter now, with only a few late-night revelers and the occasional street vendor packing up their wares. Madellaine's eyes darted around, searching for a safe place to spend the night. She couldn't risk being discovered by Sarousch or any of his cronies.
As she walked, she spotted a narrow alleyway between two tall buildings. It was dark and uninviting, but it offered some shelter from the biting wind, and her options were limited.
Madellaine hesitated for a moment before deciding it was her best option for tonight. She slipped into the alley, the shadows swallowing her small figure. She found a spot near a stack of wooden crates and sank to the ground, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth.
The stone walls around her offered little protection from the cold, and the cobblestone ground beneath her was hard and unforgiving.
Madellaine huddled closer to the crates, trying to shield herself from the wind. She could hear the distant sounds of the city: laughter, the clatter of horse-drawn carriages, and the occasional shout.
But here, in this narrow alley, she felt cold and alone and more vulnerable than she had felt in a long time. Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought about her situation.
She had dreamed of escaping the circus and finding a new life in Paris, but now, she was on the run, with no place to call home, and no one to turn to for help.
The weight of Sarousch's control over her was suffocating, and the thought of what he would do if he found out she had failed tonight sent a shiver down her spine.
Out of the corner of her gaze, Madellaine's eyes were drawn to a flash of brown. A startled cry of surprise left her lips as she glanced down and smiled as a familiar brown mouse peeked its head out of her makeshift skirt's pocket.
It was Boots, a small brown field mouse she had adopted two weeks ago after finding him one morning hiding in her boots at the foot of her cot with an injured paw.
"Boots? What are you doing here?" Madellaine asked, her voice filled with surprise and concern. "Did you hide in my pocket?" she whispered, shivering.
Boots twitched his whiskers and squeaked softly.
Madellaine sighed, gently stroking the top of Boots' head. "You shouldn't be risking your paw; it's only just starting to heal."
Boots chirped again, his tiny black eyes looking up at her apologetically.
Madellaine smiled despite the fear surging through her veins. "I know, little guy. We have to stay strong and warn the bellringer about Sarousch's plans."
Boots nuzzled her finger, offering a small measure of comfort.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she whispered, "I wish I could give you a better life." Boots's whiskers flared as he sniffed her hands, likely searching for any crumbs or traces of food, and she knew he was hungry. She was too. "Hang in there, Boots," she murmured. "We'll find something to eat soon. I promise." She glanced around the dimly lit alleyway, hoping some kind soul might find them in the morning and take pity. Madellaine searched the dark alley for any sign of danger. "We'll tell the bellringer the truth, and then we'll make a new start, you and me."
Boots chirped softly, his small form trembling with hunger. Madellaine cradled him in her hands, feeling the mouse's warmth. Knowing she had at least one companion was a small comfort in the cold alley.
"We'll make it through this," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We just have to be brave a little longer."
Boots twitched his whiskers and continued to look up at her, his eyes full of trust.
Madellaine sighed, her gaze dropping to Boots nestled in her palm. "I wish I had your faith, Boots," she murmured. "It's hard to be brave when everything feels so hopeless."
Boots nuzzled her finger again, reassuring her. A faint smile tugged at Madellaine's lips. "Y-you're right. We can't give up now. Not when we're so close."
Boots squeaked again, his determination giving her strength. Madellaine closed her eyes, trying to block out the fear and despair. She had to stay strong for herself and Boots.
She had to find a way to reach the bellringer and warn him about Sarousch's plans. But first, she needed to survive the night in the cold, with no one to turn to.
She had dreamt of fleeing Sarousch's circus many times, but practical fears always held her back. Tonight, those fears were brought on by the cold seeping into her bones and the painful reminder of her empty stomach.
As she lay there, the cold seeping into her bones, she whispered a silent prayer to any in the heavens who would be willing to listen to a thief like her.
"Please…help me find the strength to get through this. I-I don't know what to do, I can't give up. Not now…" She trailed off and fell silent as the wind howled through the alley, and Madellaine curled up tighter, trying to conserve her little warmth.
As the night stretched on, each passing minute feeling like an eternity, Madellaine drifted in and out of a fitful sleep, her dreams haunted by images of Sarousch and the looming towers of Notre Dame. Her small body shivered with the cold, and she clutched Boots closer, seeking comfort in his warmth. Boots nestled deeper into her pocket, his tiny body a welcome source of heat against her chilled skin. His soft, rhythmic breathing was a small comfort, a reminder that she wasn't completely alone in this dark, unforgiving city. Finally, exhaustion overtook her completely, and she succumbed to a deep, dreamless sleep. The alleyway was silent now, the city's noises fading into the background as the night wore on.
Paris, with all its promises of freedom and adventure, had not yet delivered on its allure. But Madellaine knew that if she could just make it through this night, there was still hope.
Tomorrow, she would find the bellringer, warn him of Sarousch's plans, and perhaps there was a chance for her and Boots to make a new life for herself, somehow.
For now, though, she slept, her dreams filled with fleeting images of a brighter future—a future where she and Boots could finally find peace and safety, far away from the shadows of her past.