Le Jour d'Amour was everyone in Paris’ favourite holiday, and it had rapidly become Clopin Trouillefou’s too. As he stood on the steps of Notre Dame, selling the yellow roses that were the symbol of this particular holiday, to those who would proclaim their love for their partners in a matter of days, Clopin smiled to himself. Eight years ago, he had met the woman of his dreams. Well, no, that wasn’t strictly true – they had met once before that, back when he was seventeen and she only seven – but eight years ago their paths had crossed again and they had been swept up in an adventure of passion, danger and deep, true love.

Flash-forward eight years and everything was perfect for them. She had once believed that her parents had drowned during a storm at sea when she was a child but, fortunately, they had survived and eventually reunited with her, joining the large family unit that lived within the Court of Miracles, a family of misfit individuals who had wound up on the streets one way or another and cared for one another as though related by blood. Plus, the great Judge Claude Frollo, who had once ruled over Paris, sending chills of terror through the hearts of all the gypsies – whom Frollo had hated with a passion and taken great delight in imprisoning or even attempting to kill – was long dead and buried, and the people of Paris were once again free from his wrath. Clopin’s wife, his darling Belle, had, much to everyone’s shock and anger, suffered at the hands of Frollo when he had taken advantage of her one evening, during her time in his care, and no one could be more relieved than she that he could no longer hurt any of them.

And then, of course, there was their daughter, Angelique. She was now six years old and with her sharp wits and love of both reading and performing she was the perfect mixture of both her parents. She looked most like her mother, although her hair wasn’t as dark; although Belle had confided in Clopin that she possibly got this from her own mother, Sarah, who had been somewhat fair at birth and slowly her hair had turned the light shade of brown it was now, in time. Everyone at the Court of Miracles loved Angelique just as much as they loved Clopin and Belle; she was a delight to them all.

“Ah, good evening, Clopin,” smiled the kindly Archdeacon, who had been a protector and friend to Belle during her time living in Notre Dame and who, unlike Frollo, felt sympathy and compassion, even friendship, towards the gypsies. He shaded the setting sun from his eyes. “I see you only have two roses left. La Jour d’Amour must clean out all the floral stalls in Paris, I imagine.”

“Yes, indeed,” Clopin smiled back. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, Archdeacon, I must give these to the Belles of Notre Dame.”

The Archdeacon chuckled at his joke. “Well, I wish you well on your way. And speaking of bells, I must make sure that La Fidele is in tip-top condition for the big day.”

Clopin nodded. “Without La Fidele, there would be no La Jour d’Amour.”

He could hear the peeling of the bells as he made his way back towards the Court of Miracles and smiled. Belle always said that it was the most beautiful sound in the world, and Clopin was certain that she was right.

Speaking of which.

“Papa!”

Clopin had to stop as Angelique suddenly came running towards him, giggling in delight. With a grin, he picked her up. “Oh, Angie, you need to stop growing, or I won’t be able to do this anymore,” he teased.

“Angie, wait for me,” Belle laughed, running up to them. She stroked her daughter’s hair and straightened her headscarf. Then, she met Clopin’s gaze with a smile of pure love. “I hope you don’t mind; we came to listen to the evening bells.”

“The most beautiful sound in the world!” Angelique chirped.

Clopin smiled and tapped her nose with one of the roses he was holding. “Why would I mind?” he asked, returning Belle’s smile of devotion.

“Is that for me, Papa?” Angelique asked, eagerly.

“Why, yes, it is.” Clopin handed her the rose, and then held out the other to his wife. “And for you, Madame.”

“Madame?” Belle, taking the rose, laughed. She still couldn’t quite get used to people addressing her as such now that she was married. “That may be so, but it makes me sound like an old woman!”

“Well, you’re not as young as when I first met you,” Clopin teased.

Belle let out an indignant laugh and swatted at him. “Touché, Monsieur!”

“Come on.” Clopin set Angie down on her feet, taking her hand and holding his other out to Belle. “Let’s go home, my Belles of Notre Dame, before it gets dark.”

Belle smiled and took his hand, pressing as close to him as possible as they walked. Before she had met Clopin, she had never imagined that she could ever fall this much in love with someone. Clopin still filled her with that same rush she had felt that day they had met again, during the Feast of Fools. That had been the beginning of their adventure, an adventure which, for Belle, had been a quest to find a loving family and a place to call home. Now she had both, and Clopin and their daughter, although the cathedral of Notre Dame itself would always hold a special place in her heart.

“Dinner’s nearly ready,” Tiana, their resident chef, greeted them as they entered the Court of Miracles.

“And it smells delicious,” Naveen added, cheekily stealing a kiss from her before sauntering over to the dinner table.

“Grandmama helped,” Angelique added to her father, before hurrying to join her friends Lilo, Shanti, Jack and Boo at the table.

“Yes, I did,” Sarah replied, bustling into the kitchen, carrying the large stewpot with her hands wrapped in two thick oven gloves. “Now, Belle, where is your father?”

“No need to panic, darling,” replied Clayton, stepping into the room behind them, “I’m here. Hello, love,” he added to Belle, giving her a one armed hug and Clopin a pat on the shoulder.

“Well, you were almost late,” Sarah informed him, with a grin, “and just for that I might make you wash up.”

“Yes, dear,” teased Clayton, pulling out a chair from the table.

Belle smiled as she took a seat beside her daughter. Their family might be made up of an odd assortment of individuals, some related, others in relationships together, but they were still a family; a loving group of people who pulled together to build their home and cared for one another. They all fitted together well. Her parents, and Dr Facilier, their resident conjurer, served as the main heads of the family, the carers, the protectors. Tiana, with help from Sarah and Naveen, made sure they were all well fed, whilst everyone else made sure they had money to buy food and other supplies, as well as making sure their home was clean and substantial for the family, especially the children. And the best part was that everyone was free to just be themselves. Eight years ago, couples like Esmeralda and Pocahontas had been bullied and abused by Frollo’s guards, but now they were free to go out in public as they were and no one batted at them. Even the Archdeacon accepted them; he had even asked them in for a cup of tea a few days ago.

“We are all God’s creatures,” he had told Belle. “How we choose to live our lives is up to us; it is not for Him, or anyone else, to judge us.”

Had it not been a completely inappropriate thing to do to a man of the cloth, Belle would have happily kissed him for saying that.

“No voodoo stories before bed, Lilo,” Dr Facilier warned as the children, dinner long-since finished, politely excused themselves from the table and ran to Lilo’s room.

“Aw, but Papa,” sighed Lilo.

“No. You’ll give everyone else nightmares again.”

“Ok.” Lilo ran off to join her friends.

Facilier shook his head. “They grow up so fast.”

Belle smiled in silent agreement. Angelique might only be six, but she too was growing rather rapidly. Still, she didn’t feel sad about it, not just yet. Angelique was still a child, just like she and Clopin were still young. They had years to share together before age took them all.

She reflected it that night as she lay beside Clopin, waiting for sleep to overcome her. Age was the one thing that was inescapable. It was one of those things you just had to accept in life, like illnesses you couldn’t cure yet or the fact that people are all born different. Thoughts of age suddenly sent a shudder through her that she tried to repress for fear of worrying Clopin. Frollo had been...how old? She wasn’t entirely sure, although he had already been grey when he had taken her into his care, and that had been a good ten years before his death, so he must have been at least, what, seventy, when he...

Belle shook her head. Of all memories she had lost over the years, the one that she had tried so hard to forget was still fresh in her mind. She could remember the whole thing vividly, even though she didn’t want to. However, it hadn’t put her off love altogether, on the contrary, quite the opposite. It had just served to make her love Clopin all the more, and now she knew that such love making wasn’t meant to hurt like it had when Frollo had roughly taken her. With Clopin it was gentle and passionate and filled her with a pleasure she never knew existed before.

It was no good. She had been trying to suppress this thirst that was plaguing her tonight, but it was no good. She just had to get up and get a glass of water.

As she pulled back the covers and sat up, she sensed, in the way that married people often do, that her husband was awake. She looked over at him, blinking sleepily and curiously at her, and smiled, reassuringly. “I’m just getting a glass of water.”

Clopin answered with a sleepy nod. Belle left the room and padded, quietly, to the kitchen, making a mental note to make sure to put the glass back where she found it when she was done. Tiana had a thing about kitchen equipment being put back after use.

She had just replaced the glass, her thirst quenched, when she heard a soft sound of someone running across the floor. Startled, she emerged back into the main room in time to see Angelique emerging from her room, looking panicked.

“Mama!” It came out as a squeak as her daughter ran to cling to her. “Mama!”

“Angie, what’s wrong?” Belle asked, hugging her close.

“I had a bad dream.”

Belle breathed out. For a second she had been worried it had been something worse. She gave her a firmer hug. “Shh, it’s alright now,” she soothed, crouching in front of her. “It’s only a dream. Things can’t hurt you in dreams.”

“I know, Mama.” Angie grasped her hands, trying to calm down. “It’s just...it was scary.”

“I know, believe me, sweetie, I know.” Belle brushed her daughter’s fringe out of her eyes for her. “But it’s alright. Your Papa and I would never let anything big and scary get you, you know. Ok?” Angie nodded. Knowing what she needed, the same thing she had needed when she had first come to live in the Court of Miracles, Belle straightened up and took her hand. “Come on, you can sleep with us tonight.”

Angie brightened at once. “Ok.”

“Oh, hello,” Clopin murmured sleepily as he felt them both slide into bed with him. “We’ve a bedtime guest, have we?”

“Hush up and make room,” Belle smiled, giving him a soft nudge with her foot as she settled herself with Angelique between them.

“I had a bad dream, Papa,” Angelique murmured, snuggling on her mother’s pillow.

Clopin turned over to give her a hug. Belle joined them both, vowing once again, silently, that her family would never be torn apart again for as long as she lived.