Chapter Text
It was a Tuesday. How did Clopin know that? Because Frollo always spent the most time with him on Tuesday in consequence of his failure with Esmeralda which happened every Monday. Another consequence of Frollo’s inept lovemaking was that he focused hard on teaching. This was the day that Clopin got taught whether he liked it or not.
Clopin was thankful for the opportunity to learn reading and writing. He couldn’t have asked for a better teacher either. However, a mind like his couldn’t study the dry subject for long. Frollo must have noticed his inattention for he came up with an intriguing alternative.
“Have you ever heard of the game Hangman?”
The gypsy looked up from the book he’d been failing to focus on. “Yes, it’s quite popular at the Court of Miracles.”
Frollo appeared profoundly confused for a moment before his mouth twisted to hide a smile. “I’m not talking about literally hanging people. I mean the word game that is played on paper.” He took a blank sheet and drew a makeshift gallows.
Clopin’s eyes were wide as he listened to the rules of the game, and he quickly claimed the role of executioner. Sticking out his tongue in deep concentration, the gypsy came up with his word and drew six lines. “Ok, start!”
Frollo smirked and guessed ‘F’ which was marked as the first letter. Next, he guessed ‘R’ which was incorrect. The gypsy almost rolled his eyes at Frollo guessing his own name. He drew the figure’s head. ‘A’ was likewise incorrect and Clopin drew a circle for the body.
“Why is he round?”
“It’s the baker.” Frollo was naive if he didn’t know that fat men and bakers were synonymous.
“And why are you hanging the baker?”
“He charged me full price for a muffin at the Feast of Fools. Everyone knows that Clopin Trouillefou gets to eat for free that day.”
Frollo gave him a funny look. “And you’re the one who decides who hangs at the Court of Miracles? That’s unfortunate. Next letter is E.” Indeed, it was the next two letters.
The following guess of ‘D’ was incorrect. ‘B’ was marked as the fourth letter. And then the remaining ‘L’, ‘I’, and ‘O’ finished off the doomed baker. With each of the last wrong guesses, Frollo became more impatient. He stared at the gypsy’s poorly written ‘FEEB_ _” with absurd intensity. Clopin just grinned.
“And? What was the word?” He asked, sounding both irritated and curious.
“Feebus!” Clopin responded happily.
Frollo stared. “Feebus… Feebus?! That’s not how you spell it, you idiot!” He took the quill and spelled out the name ‘Phoebus’.
It was Clopin’s turn to be angry. “It’s that ‘PH’ again! And why is there an ‘O’?” He ran a hand through his hair as he stared at the offending letters. “Well, I still won because you should have guessed that I was misspelling something and how many words start with a ‘FEEB’ sound anyway?”
“That’s not how the game works. The whole thing falls about if we can’t trust our executioner to play by the rules.”
“This executioner has made a new rule such that the potential for misspelled words requires you to use your imagination.” Frollo eyed him with a cocked brow then finally sighed and began drawing another gallows.
From then on, Tuesday was a better day and Hangman became one of Clopin’s favorite study aids. Due to his unconventional spelling, he was quite good at it when allowed to be the executioner. Eventually he had nearly all of Paris hung for one crime or another. Some of them were innocent but as he explained to Frollo, that was the worst crime of all.