"Come on, Clopin." Esmeralda said. "Everyone knows."
"You've not been very subtle about it." Phoebus added.
"So who is it?" Quasimodo said.
Clopin laughed nervously. "There is no special girl. Really." Technically, it was true. "It isn't a girl." He thought. Then he realised he spoke it as well. It took a few seconds before they realised what he was implying. Esmeralda gasped.
"A man?!" She said, her eyes wide. "You-you love a man? But that's just..." She bowed her head, realising how hypocritical it sounded. "Wrong." She muttered more or less to herself.
"So what?" Clopin said, his tone hardening. "Hypocrite." He glared.
"Well, who is it?" Phoebus said. "Ow!" He rubbed his leg where Esmeralda had kicked him. "What was that for?" He said unhappily. Esmeralda only glared in response. Phoebus then realised his idiocy. "Oh. Sorry." He said sheepishly.
"Well, do you want a clue?" Clopin spat. "He should be dead. All of you know him. And hate him. Now, who do you know that fills the criteria?"
It was Quasimodo who realised who he meant first. His eyes widened in a mixture of horror and surprise, but he- thankfully- didn't say it.
Esmeralda frowned. "The only man I can think of is Frollo, and there's no way you could love him. Besides, he is dead. I saw him fall. I give up."
Clopin shrugged. "Maybe you should ask Quasimodo." A voice sounded from outside the tent. "Captain Pheobus?" A young man called. "The Archdeacon needs you."
Pheobus stood up. "Well, I'll be on my way. Quasi, you're going to tell me who this mystery man is when I'm back."
Esmeralda stood up. "Well, I need to go now. But I'll be back soon!" She waved as she rode away on her horse.
When they had both gone, Quasimodo pounced on Clopin. "Frollo's alive?" He yelled. "Clopin, I can't believe you! Love? Well, when he turns you down it's your own fault! He hates you!" And with that he stormed out of the tent.
Clopin drew a shaky breath. He had never seen Quasimodo so angry. But he did have a reason to be. Frollo had locked him in a bell tower for sixteen years and taught him that he was a monster. Then he had tried to kill him. But then he realised he had a much more pressing issue at hand.
Clopin had gone to great lengths to make sure no one found out about his homosexuality. He had always been, even before Frollo had come. And he hated himself for loving him. Maybe this was what Frollo experienced when he lusted after Esmerada. But Clopin didn't lust after Frollo. After all, the former judge wasn't exactly the most handsome man in Paris. And he was so looked so old. But Clopin himself was actually thirty nine. Many people thought he was about twenty, but he had always been lively and youthful. He was rather proud of his looks, even if he never let on that he was really quite vain. When he was twenty he had looked exactly the same. A lot of gypsy woman had called him the most handsome man in Paris, and Clopin had to say he could see where they were coming from. He sighed and went to the curtained off part, his bedroom.
Frollo was still lying there, probably unconscious. After his near death experience, he hadn't woken up properly yet, only occasionally breaking out in fits. Sometimes he would break out screaming, causing a lot of turmoil outside. People came rushing into Clopin's tent, checking to see if he was okay. Clopin would usually pretend to be just as worried, pretending that it was the person in the next tent. It was a miracle that he had managed to keep Frollo a secret.
A fit of coughing pulled Clopin away from his thoughts. He rushed over to Frollo. "Are you okay?" He asked, concerned.
"Where am..." Frollo muttered confusedly. Then, somehow, he was standing up brandishing a knife. "Get away from me!" He cried.
Clopin first felt disappointment, then anger, then disgust. He had just saved this man's life, yet all Frollo could think about was killing him? "E-" He began, but was then cut off by Frollo.
"You're never going to get me again, you... you scum! Pedophiles!" He spat. Clopin was genuinely shocked. Where on earth had Frollo got the idea he was a pedophile? He laughed nervously.
"I think your near death experience is messing with your head. Lie down again."
There was a deathly silence. Then Frollo exploded. "WHAT?!" He yelled.
Clopin winced. "Please, calm do-"
"You have the nerve to say I'M mad?! You're mad! You kidnap children, for God's sake! You're a murderer!"
"Excuse me!" Clopin interrupted angrily. "I just saved your life!"
Frollo stopped for a second, still fuming. Then he leaned over and kissed Clopin. Startled, he pulled away. "Frollo, what are you doing?"
"You are not a Libertine." He stated. "If you were, you wouldn't have pulled away."
Clopin felt a surge of disappointment. "Oh." He muttered. Frollo didn't notice. He was yelling a Clopin again.
"AND YOU WILL NEVER MENTION TO ANYONE WHAT HAPPENED, AND YOU WILL NEVER ASK WHAT A LIBERTINE IS, AND YOU WILL NEVER, EVER ASK HOW I MET THEM!" Frollo shouted.
Clopin's first thought was immediately "How did you meet them?" But he ignored it. Then he had an idea. "Frollo," he said, "I saved your life. You owe me."
Frollo frowned. "But you can't ask anything about the- what I was talking about." He snapped. Clopin shook his head.
"You owe me. You have to tell me. What is a libertine?"
Frollo sighed. He did owe Clopin, but telling him about the libertines would reveal a whole string of secrets about his childhood that would just terrify him. Nobody was to know of his past experiences. But...
"I will tell you what a libertine is." He said slowly, "but you can't ask anything else. And remember, I am NOT a libertine.
"Libertines are a group of people who view... pleasure above moral restraint. They don't care about anything except pleasure. And they go about getting it the wrong way. Every November, they will kidnap a group of children and enslave them. It's not normal enslavement though. The children must cater to their every... need. And if they don't, torture-" he broke off as Clopin raised his hand. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Then he began to speak.
"How." He said, dragging his words out slowly, as if trying to be very careful. "Do you know this?"
Frollo looked to the ground and mumbled something incomprehensible. Clopin frowned. "Could you repeat that?"
"We had a deal," Frollo snapped, "You don't ask any more questions and I don't tell you anymore... Unless you badly wanted to know and I was willing to tell you. But for now, let's just forget. Please, who are you?" Frollo frowned. "You are the one they call the gypsy king."
Clopin nodded mutely. He assumed Frollo wasn't happy about it.
"Yes, I'm Clopin, the gypsy king."
Frollo then held his hand out.
Startled, Clopin asked what he was doing. To which Frollo replied,
"Do you not even know how to greet someone? It's a handshake. You shake my hand."
Clopin realised his idiocy. "Of course I know what a handshake is. I wanted to know if this was another 'test'" he waited for a reaction from Frollo, but he only sighed.
"It isn't, it's safe to shake my hand. Really, I don't bite."
Clopin took his hand, and frowned at he felt faint scars. They had obviously healed a lot, but part of being a thief was to know blemishes and marks on people, so he didn't rob the same person too often.
"Did you ever fight in battles?" Clopin asked, curious about these scars. Frollo tensed slightly and pulled his hand away.
"No." He said stiffly.
"Where did you get them?" Clopin pressed.
"I can't tell you."
"Come on," he insisted. "You owe me."
"We made a deal." Frollo said tartly. "I only tell you if I'm willing. The only person who knows is the archdeacon, and he found out by accident. I did not tell him."
"Just give me one word." Clopin said. "You owe me your life, remember."
"Libertine."
Clopin gave a small frown as he tried to put the pieces together. Then his eyes widened. "Were you one of the children that they took?"
Frollo stayed silent. Clopin felt a sense of horror wash over him. "You were, weren't you? That's why you took a knife out at me! But... What did they do to you?"
"It is none of your concern." Frollo said icily.
"You owe me your l-"
"I would rather give you my life than tell you!" Frollo interrupted.
Clopin smiled. "But I don't want your life. I want your life story."
Frollo seethed with anger. "No."
"Well." Clopin said. "I'll just have to go through our gypsy initiation ritual."
There was of course no such thing, but Clopin wanted to see if Frollo had more scars. Frollo edged away from him.
"What are you going to-" he began, then was cut off as Clopin literally ripped his robe off of him. Frollo gasped, then smirked as Clopin stared at him.
"Why are you wearing that?" He queried.
"I'm- oh, never mind. I'm certainly never going to tell the likes of you." Frollo said airily.
He was wearing a full black jumpsuit beneath his robes. It covered his entire body except his hands, his neck and his face.
Frollo sighed. "I'm photophobic." He said.
"What?" Clopin said.
"I'm photophobic."
"And that means..."
"Oh, never mind." Frollo snapped. "Give me my robes back!"
Clopin handed him his robes, slightly annoyed that Frollo had managed to outwit him. Sort of.
So he decided to finish his ritual.
He pulled the jumpsuit off of him. Frollo yelled, and Clopin watched in horror as his body began to burn and blister. He shrieked and writhed on the floor, giving horrible, chilling screams. Eventually he regained enough sense to scream, "Get a blanket!"
Clopin draped a blanket over him. Frollo twitched and winced for a while before going still. Clopin carefully checked that he was still alive before putting his clothes back on him.
Frollo came around a while later, glaring at Clopin. "Why." He said angrily, "Did you do that? I told you I was photophobic!"
"And you never said what that meant!" Clopin said with equal anger. "You never said you were a vampire! Demon!"
Frollo stared at him for a second before he burst out laughing. Clopin was surprised; he had never heard Frollo laugh before. He had assumed that he either didn't know how, or had no emotions. Now he wondered why Frollo was hiding his emotions.
"You idiot, I'm not a demon or a vampire! Those are children's tales!"
Clopin was shocked. "Children's tales? Well then, what tortures people in Hell?" He raised his eyebrows slightly as he saw a flash of negatives emotions run through Frollo's eyes.
"There is no Hell. Or heaven. That's just rubbish." Frollo stated.
"How? I thought you were a religious man!"
"And look what that got me! Now I'm stuck in a gypsy tent possibly the one man in all of Paris who doesn't hate me!" Frollo said heatedly
Clopin raised his eyebrows. "I never thought about it that way."
Frollo shrugged. "No matter." He paused for a second before asking, "Will I be able to leave the tent?"
"No." Clopin admitted. "Quasimodo knows that you're here."
Frollo showed no visible reaction. "Oh." He said. "Did he try to kill me?"
Clopin blushed as he remembered his earlier exchange with Frollo's adopted son. "Uh... Not exactly. No."
Frollo sighed. "So how long is it til I'm allowed out?"
"Um... Never." Clopin looked to the ground. "Unless..."
"Unless what?" He said sharply.
"It's a risky plan, but you could pretend to be Claude Frollo's brother. You could be... Jehan Frollo."
"Are you serious?" Frollo looked a Clopin with an incredulous expression on his face. "I couldn't think of a worse plan than that. They would have to be complete idiots to believe that."
Clopin sighed. "I guess you're right."
"So what am I supposed to do?"
Clopin scratched the back of his neck. "Stay in the tent?"
Frollo sighed, displeased with his answer. "What can I do in the tent?"
"Uh..." Clopin trailed off, unsure. "Well, you could help me with things like cleaning and cooking and, oh, I don't know."
He noticed a very slight mood change as he said the word 'cooking'. He wasn't sure if it was happiness or annoyance, but there definitely a reaction.
"So..." Clopin said, unsure of what to say next.
"What will the living arrangements be?" Frollo asked.
"Uh, yeah," Clopin said, grateful that Frollo had said something. "Um, well..." He drifted off.
"Have you not arranged anything?" Frollo sighed.
"Well, I didn't have much time. And I had no idea you would wake up properly today." Clopin said in annoyance.
"I guess it's better if we're both here to organise things."
"Um... To be honest, I don't have a clue how to do this." Clopin admitted.
"Neither do I." Frollo said. He shrugged. "So basically we're just two idiots taking on the task of living."
Clopin snorted with laughter. "Least we're not taking on the world."
Frollo had difficulty hiding his grin. "But seriously, what are we going to do? Where will we sleep?"
"In the bed, obviously."
Frollo raised his eyebrow. "Both of us?"
"But of course!"
Frollo shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable. "Ah, I think I'll let you sleep there by yourself."
"Look, I know you're probably used to having a bed fit for a king all to yourself, but here it's common for four people to share a bed for one." Clopin said.
"I know but... I'm not very comfortable being so close to other people." Frollo admitted.
"What about Esmeralda?" Clopin challenged, waiting for Frollo to get angry at him. But Frollo stayed the same.
"Long story."
"Try me."
"Remember our deal?" Frollo reminded him. "Don't ask, don't tell."
"So it has something to do with that!" Clopin said triumphantly. Frollo hit his forehead.
"Dammit!"
Clopin smirked. "But anyway, there isn't anywhere else to sleep. It's the bed or nothing."
"I think I'll just sleep on the floor." Frollo said.
"I insist! Isn't it rude to decline one's hospitality?" Clopin said pressed. Frollo looked at him weirdly.
"Why do you want me in your bed?" He asked suspiciously.
"I-um-well," Clopin stuttered. "You aren't well. You should get the bed."
"No, I'm fine. Really." Frollo insisted. "I don't like being close to people."
Clopin raised an eyebrow. "Fine. You take the bed."
"What? No, I didn't mean that! You take the bed."
Clopin sighed. "If we can't agree on something, you can leave."
There was a flash of annoyance in Frollo's eyes. "Fine. I'll do it. But don't snore."
Clopin snorted with laughter.
BREAK
Clopin had just come back from his puppeteer stand. He was surprised to find Frollo sitting on the floor with a piece of paper and a pencil, writing furiously.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
Frollo jumped to his feet. "Nothing."
"What does it say?" Clopin asked. He playfully yanked the paper from his hand.
"Give that back!" Frollo said angrily.
Clopin began to read it slowly. "Be-Be-ta-"
"Beata." Frollo corrected. "Do you even know how to read?"
"Not really." Clopin admitted. "But Quasimodo is teaching me."
"You can't even read?" Frollo said, aghast.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry that I didn't get a brilliant education. I hope you can accept my humble apologies." Clopin said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Neither did I, but I can still read!" Frollo argued.
"You didn't?" Clopin was surprised. He had always assumed that Frollo had gotten the highest level of education possible.
"No, I didn't. I wasn't allowed to know things when I was a child." Frollo said quietly. "My parents wanted me to have little knowledge so they could..." He suddenly realised what he was saying.
"So they could what?" Clopin asked gently.
"Clopin, I can't tell you." Frollo looked at the ground. "Maybe later."
"Why?"
"Don't ask, don't tell was our agreement."
"So... your parents wanted you to be stupid so they could take to the libertines without you objecting, and when you got there..." He wasn't sure what happened next.
Frollo threw his hands up in the air dramatically. "Oh, what's the point? You're going to work it out anyway. I might as well tell you... tomorrow. It's a long tale, and it's late. Sleep comes first."
Clopin sighed in annoyance, but decided not to push his luck. He lay down on the bed. Frollo looked rather nervous about lying in bed with a man he had just known for a day, but decided that he was tired, and it was normal for gypsies. But he still stayed as far from Clopin as possible.
BREAK
Frollo, Clopin, and probably the rest of Paris awoke when Frollo sat up with a dreadful scream. Clopin had no time to comfort him.
"Get under the bed." He hissed. Frollo didn't need to be told twice. It was difficult, but he managed to get out of sight. Just in time, too, as gypsies came flooding to Clopin's tent.
"Who screamed?" One man asked, his eyes wide.
Clopin had to think fast. "I was going to check!" He said, pretending to be worried. "I think it came from over there." He managed to back the small crowd of people out of his tent.
"We'll go and check." They fell for it.
Clopin heaved a sigh of relief. Then he turned to Frollo angrily.
"What the hell were you doing? You could have been seen!" He said as loudly as he could without drawing the crowd back. He took a step back, scared at what Frollo was doing.
He was shivering and sweating profusely. His breathing was unnaturally quick, and his eyes were wide with fear. He was rocking back and forth slightly.
"Frollo?" Clopin asked hesitantly. "You can come out now."
Frollo stopped moving. He scrambled out from under the bed. "I'm sorry." He muttered, bowing his head.
"It's, uh, okay." Clopin said awkwardly. He had never seen Frollo so sincere. "What were you doing?"
"A p-panic attack." He stuttered. "I can't stand enclosed spaces, and I just..."
"It's okay." Clopin said soothingly. "You won't have to hide there again."
Frollo swallowed nervously. "I-I promised you that I would tell you about... stuff. Do y-you still want to know?"
Clopin could tell that Frollo was still shaken up about hiding under the bed. "Tell me later if you want." He said. Frollo shook his head.
"I'd rather get it out of the way and tell you, Clopin."
"Alright. Go ahead."
Frollo bit his lip, then plunged into his tale.
"When I was a child, my parents were murdered. The people who took me in hated me. They put me through almost every form of torture possible, physically and mentally. They wanted me to serve as their sexual slave, submitting to their every need." He paused as Clopin made a motion for him to stop.
"Is it going to get worse?"
"A lot. Why?" He asked.
"Because I need to prepare myself."
Frollo nodded understandingly. "They did terrible things that I won't linger on, but by far the worst was when they sent me to the libertines. The libertines were even worse than my foster parents. They put us- there were twelve of us- through physical, mental and sexual torture, sadism and perversion, heartbreak and cruelty. But it was much harder on me. They knew that I had already been tortured as a child, so they decided to make a special effort to break me. I was the only one forced to consume feces and urine, go through submissive BDSM, or-" He stopped speaking suddenly. Clopin then noticed how pained he looked telling him this. It was certainly something horrendous to happen to anyone.
Frollo mumbled something.
"Could you repeat that?" Clopin said awkwardly, then stared in shock as Frollo burst out crying.
"I-I had to kill my own brother!" He wailed hysterically. "And not just kill him, because before that they made him rape me!"
Clopin was shocked. Then confused. "But if you had foster parents, how did you discover your brother?"
"We found out the day before it happened." He said, his eyes still gleaming with tears. "And then- and then they took him from me!" He let out a strangled sob. Clopin hesitated, then hugged him. "There, there." He muttered. "I won't judge."
Frollo sobbed into his shoulder.
BREAK
Esmeralda was walking past Clopin's tent when she thought she heard crying. "Clopin never cries," She muttered, worried that something absolutely terrible had happened.
"Clopin?.." She walked into the small curtained-off area of the tent, shocked at what she saw. A man who looked like Frollo was sobbing info Clopin's shoulder. Clopin himself appeared to be on the verge of tears. "What's going on?"
Clopin looked very guilty. "H-Hello, Esmeralda." He said innocently. Too innocently. The other man just looked scared and depressed.
"Are you okay?" Esmeralda says gently, reaching out to him. Frollo staggered backwards.
"Don't touch me!" He yelled. Esmeralda was startled.
"Oh, well, sorry."
Clopin made a gesture for her to leave. She raised a questioning eyebrow, but left.
