Dedicated to Notre Dame de Paris, a stone phoenix.

X

"What?!" Frollo asked, eyes widening in disbelief now that his brother's statement snapped him awake. "Jehan, I am in no mood for practical jokes!" he warned, trying to hide the evident worry.

"This isn't a joke," Jehan said, uncharacteristically serious. "She's crazy, Claude!"

"Meaning…?" the Minister growled, digging his fingers into his brother's shoulders. His hands shook Jehan, praying that this was just some late-night prank. After the day he had just had, the last thing he wanted to deal with was Jehan's mischief.

Pushing his brother away from him, Jehan replied, "Meaning…she's here right now—and she wants to speak with you. So, we should probably continue this little discussion in your office." Without a moment to process his statement, Jehan pulled him out of the doorway and to his study.

"Why on earth does this woman wish to speak to me if her issues lie with you?" Frollo asked as the two entered the room still it by the fireplace, the judge igniting the study's candles and illuminating it from complete darkness. Outside, small droplets of rain began bouncing against the glass windows.

Jehan gave a weak smile. "Well, um…I might have let it slip that my brother is Minister of Justice, so…"

Frollo rubbed his temple irritably, seating himself at his desk. "I am not interested in getting involved in a dispute over some child's paternity right now."

"Actually, it's a pair of twins—but there's no way anyone can prove they're mine," Jehan retorted, an unsure laugh escaping from him. "And besides, you have the power—just have her locked up and forget that I ever mentioned this. That's practically a hobby for you!"

Was Jehan really that simple-minded, the Minister wondered. "I am not an emperor—I cannot wield my power around carelessly for you all the time." Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, startling the younger brother. Frollo bit back, "You are almost twenty-six years old and you need to learn how to confront your own problems like a man!" Stepping forth and pulling Jehan away from the entrance, he opened the door.

Standing in the doorway was a short ebony-haired woman with dark black eyes and a threadbare cloak thrown over her shoulders. She held the hands of two small, curly-haired, blond children—a boy and girl—about four or five years old, both with dark gray eyes. Had it not been for a striking facial resemblance to their mother at hand, the two looked just like Jehan.

Frollo's eyes grew as his studied the three before shooting an accusatory glower at the anxious Jehan. The latter nervously gripped at his riotous curls as he averted his blue eyes away to the flagstone floor, trilling his lips in annoyance.

"What was that about not being able to prove anything?" Frollo mocked, trying to hide his anger. "Care to explain?" he bitingly asked, his jaw clenching tightly.

Without waiting for Jehan's response, Frollo waved them into his study. The woman warily gazed at Jehan, who backed away to take cover behind the judge. One might be able to hear a pin drop, the room was rendered still with awkwardness as the brothers and trio eyed each other carefully.

Frollo decided to break the silence. "Well, I believe introductions are in order, aren't they? Jehan?" he said, pulling his brother harshly forward by the arm. "If you'd please."

"Um…well, Claude, this is Pomona," he indicated to the woman who looked at him condemningly. "Remember about five years ago when Robin and a few friends and I went to Saint-Jean-de-Luz for Easter? We met there and…I guess I must have left more there than I thought." He finally locked eyes with the woman with a bit of apprehension. "Pomona, this is my brother, Claude—el juez de Paris."

Pomona barely regarded the Minister of Justice while her children, however, studied him intently. Frollo noticed the small boy hide his face when he locked eyes with the fearsome judge, who noticed that their eyes were identical to his own.

"So it's true, then?" Frollo asked, narrowing his stormy gray orbs at Jehan. "You sired these children?" Jehan, in turn, pursed his lips and wrung his hands with no idea of what to say.

The judge approached the distrustful-looking Pomona, whose two cherubic twins hid behind her. "How old are they?" he calmly asked her, saving the rest of his anger for Jehan.

She blinked at him, looking somewhat intimidated as she squeezed her children's hands tighter. She uttered out, "They're four."

Oh, for the love of God…Frollo looked back at Jehan, brows raised. "Any more excuses?"

Jehan opened and closed his mouth, no words finding their way out. Shamefully he looked away off to some far-off corner of the study, away from their damning eyes.

"Jehan," Pomona gently addressed, the young man reluctantly meeting her dark eyes as he shifted nervously in his spot. "These are your children: your son, Joseba, and your daughter, Izara."

Jehan examined the two blond children, their flinty gray eyes taking in their long-lost father. The boy still hid behind his short mother while the girl smiled at the young man. Jehan's mouth opened and closed but no words were heard. Frollo noticed his brother's expression momentarily soften as he stood there paralyzed, unable to speak.

The brothers saw the young girl, Izara, tug at her mother's hand. "Nire aita?" she asked as she pointed at him, the language vaguely familiar to Jehan. The woman nodded her head, her dark eyes indicating to him.

The others stayed still as the girl approached Jehan, silver eyes meeting cerulean as her sweet face studied him. Unexpectedly, she spoke up, "Papa?"

The judge saw Jehan pale at the girl's word, his balance wavering as his knees began to buckle under him. Instinctively, Frollo grabbed him by the shoulders, little Izara recoiling back and instinctively taking hold of her mother.

"Would you all excuse us for a moment?" Frollo grumbled to the stunned woman, trying to steady Jehan and reaching for the keys on his desk. "Um…itxaron, mesedez. We'll be back momentarily."

He dragged Jehan out of the study and into the hallway, locking the door behind him. Frollo pushed him into the large vacant room, which was occupied by a sole fireplace and a few wooden benches along its stone walls. The moonlight pouring through the large windows illuminated the empty space and made the sculptures of saints high on the walls look utterly ghostly.

Letting go of Jehan, Frollo heatedly commanded, "You have one minute to explain to me why this little paramour of yours is here. What does she want from us?! Is it money?"

Running his hands over his face, Jehan sputtered out, "I don't know! One minute I was at the Bull's Head having a drink with Robin, and the next she's standing in front of me saying how happy she was to see me. I heard her mention something like 'casarnos'—and I know my Spanish might be a little rusty, but I sure as hell can figure out what that means! "Casarnos" means "get married"!"

Frollo felt himself short of breath as he was taken aback his statement, trying to collect himself. Reeling and pacing, he stammered, "Wait a moment…you honestly think that she wants to marry you?"

"What do you think?!" the young man snapped. "A woman that I met on a trip years ago shows up and says that her kids are mine—why else would she be here?! It's either that or money—or both! When I met her in Saint-Jean, she was just some virgin daughter of some rich fisherman. Let's just say the days of Easter turned into a few weeks, and, well…things moved very fast between us. She was just supposed to be another conquest—I never intended for this to happen."

"Of course, you never intend for anything to happen," the judge sarcastically countered, tightly clasping his hands together. "Everything you do seems to be an accident, and never thought out. That is your perhaps your greatest fault: you never think!"

"Calm down! For every problem, there's a solution, right?" the young man asked with weakened hope. Inside, Jehan was being consumed by panic—very unlike the usual haphazardness he was so prone to.

Sitting down on one of the polished wooden benches, Frollo rested against its backing, sighing heavily. "I am at a loss for words right now," he expressed, beaten. "So you admit that those children are indeed yours?"

Jehan rubbed the back of his neck, the weight of the situation crushing him. While he was skilled in the art of spinning his trouble into less than it was, now he was truly without an excuse. "There's no denying it…I-I think they are. You saw them—those kids are a spitting image of me."

"How do you want to go about this then?" his brother asked, completely drained as he crossed his arms over his chest. Frollo wished that this issue could have presented itself on a less mentally taxing day, feeling himself devoid of most of his energy. Uncharacteristically, his shoulders slumped as he awaited Jehan's answer.

"I don't know," Jehan worriedly uttered, hands trembling violently. "What should I do? You're always the one telling me what to do!"

"And look how well you have heeded my advice!" Frollo threw his hands up in exasperation and leaning forward. "The problems you have brought to me in the past have been miniscule in comparison to this. You hold a woman and her children's lives in the palm of your hands, for God's sake!"

Jehan paced around in a circle, rubbing his hands agitatedly. "Please!" he choked out. "Can't you just handle this?"

"Do you have any idea of the matters that I am already preoccupied with? This is your cross to bear, Jehan. You fathered those children, so you must be the one to make this right."

"So you think I should marry Pomona?" he asked, his heart leaping into his throat. "I barely know her!"

For a moment Frollo sat silently, hanging his head and considering the situation. Fatigued and unexpectedly, the Minister shrugged, hands clasping before him. Truly, he did not want to deal with this now—or ever. The reality of Jehan as a father was beginning to feel more like some sick joke by God, and more than he might be able to bear.

"If that is what you feel is right," he answered vaguely, only wanting to return to bed. "I'm sure I do not need to remind you that those children are not pure in the eyes of God unless you marry their mother."

"Spare me the platitudes! You need to help me with this, Claude—I don't want to get married!"

The Minister only glared back at him, wordlessly condemning him. Without waiting for his brother's answer, Jehan asked, "How about I just take day to think it over before I make a decision?"

"Absolutely not!" the Minister snapped, astounded that he would even ask that. His blood boiled that even in the greatest of crises Jehan would not find the ability to rise to the occasion over his own mess. "You are going to fix this now!"

Jehan continued to pace around again in unrest, his chest heaving from his ragged breaths. "Dammit! I really don't know what to do, Claude." He locked his fingers in his blond curls as his mind raced for any idea that might save him.

"Well, make haste and find a solution already," Frollo deadpanned, his eyes feeling heavy and muscles ever tense.

"My God, are you really so selfish that you're just going to hang me out to dry like this? That you're going to abandon your brother in his time of need?" Jehan inwardly prayed that Claude would fall for the same old tactic he had used numerous times to trick him into forgiving his countless faults. The brotherly obligation card had hardly failed yet, and hopefully this time would be no different.

"Don't try me!" Frollo barked, pointing a finger at the boy. "Have I not been there every step of the way, picking you up every time you've fallen? Was I not there to offer my help for every instance of mayhem that you managed to stir up? Don't you dare call me selfish after all the trouble you've forced me to suffer through over these years! I did not create this dilemma—you did, as always!"

Jehan scowled at the judge, angrily pounding a fist against his palm hearing Claude's bitter but true words. Panic grew in the young man's core as he feared that this might be one mess that his brother would not save him from.

"On one hand, I could marry her, leave Paris and go back to Saint-Jean-de-Luz," Jehan unpleasantly reasoned. "I'm sure that's why she came all the way here in the first place. But if I don't, she might go around telling the whole damn city about those kids. What will my friends think when they hear I have a couple of bastards from Basque country? What happens if that news gets out?! She might get that boss of hers to hunt me down! What are we going to do?!"

Irked, Frollo vehemently retorted, "Similar to how you announced the news about Quasimodo to the whole of Paris after I specifically asked you to keep it between us? Well now the tables have turned! 'An eye for an eye,' remember? I should just let you get roped into an empty marriage with a woman who's more of a drink-addled memory than save you again, given all the good that you've done for me!"

Pausing, Jehan turned back to the judge. He shot his older brother a dark, menacing look. "You'd really do that?" he grimly asked. "Well let me tell you something, dear brother…if you turn your back on this, I swear I will bring you down with me. You want to keep your precious image intact, but think of how it'll look when your little brother is marrying some woman who had his children out of wedlock. You'll be ridiculed by your friends on the council and disgraced even more by the people of this city."

Frollo smirked, finding Jehan's attempt to reason with him pathetic. "I have always managed to maintain my reputation. I have endured nothing but humiliation because of you, but the people know better than to challenge my authority."

Jehan snorted. "You don't think they'll begin to doubt you? They'll see that you couldn't even control your own brother, so how can you even manage to keep their city safe?"

Frollo straightened up, maintaining his stoic self as he refused to waver. "I have been Minister of Justice for eight years now—I believe I long quelled any doubts that the common folk might have about my ability to keep a city. Besides, the public know that you are a lost cause, forever prancing with the Devil himself. And that is between you and the Lord." With every weak threat Jehan threw at him, Claude felt more assured that leaving the boy to his own chaos might be the best decision he could make.

Clenching his fists, Jehan glowered hatefully at the judge. Inching forward, he warningly began, "I didn't want to have to play this card, but you leave me no choice…If you back out on me now, so help me God I will go to Notre Dame, march up to the bell tower, and I'll tell Quasimodo about you waving a knife and wanting to kill him after too many drinks a few years back."

The Minister reared up and violently grabbed Jehan by the front of his shirt. "Treacherous snake! We swore never to speak of that again!"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, I suppose," Jehan mocked, a dastardly edge in his voice that surprised even the Minister.

"He'll never believe you!" Frollo protested, shaking his head. "The boy knows what a heel you are, and even he isn't so trustful of you that he would accept as that as fact."

"He will. You're not the only one he cares about and I'll tell him everything I know about you, Claude—whether you think he'll believe it or not! I'll tell him, he'll pass it along to someone or another in that church, and before you know it, everyone in Paris will see you as some murderous drunkard—not a man of God at all!

"And not only that," Jehan added, a devilish grin stretching over his lips. "I'll be glad to share the story of your little escapade with that Spanish whore with a few of my friends at the tavern. I'm sure Paris would love to hear about the "chaste" Minister Frollo going for a little romp with some harlot! And that you're just as weak and base as the rest of us! You'll never have their respect again, and they'll know you for the hypocrite you are!"

The Minister was stunned by Jehan's malevolence—coercing him into doing his bidding. Brows furrowing at Jehan's dramatics, Frollo realized that his brother was dead serious about his threat. "Nobody will believe a word out of some drunk gambler's mouth!" Frollo shook Jehan harshly, the rage making him wish he could stomp the boy into the ground for all the trouble he had stirred up.

"I'm your brother! I know you better than anyone!" Jehan laughed despite the whiplash from his brother's rattling. He fiercely pushed his brother away and swiped, "You'll be ruined—just like me!"

Frollo's fingers curled into fists, fighting the urge to destroy his idiot of a brother. "I don't need the approval of underlings—what do I care whether or not you tell them?"

"Because you don't want to be seen as weak," Jehan sharply clipped, his observation stinging the Minister. "You need their respect, and if they don't you know you'll lose control. And if there's anything I know about you, Claude, it's that everything needs to go your way. And if there's even a trace of doubt, you're going to break."

Frollo stared agape at the young man, astounded by his cunning. For years Jehan had been merely an immature thorn in his side, and now he exposed himself for the devious—but perhaps clever—well of potential intelligence.

As much as he hated to admit it, there was truth in Jehan's words. The Minister thrived on the fear and respect his subjects harbored for him; if they saw so much as an inch of weakness, he risked his whole web of influence falling apart. What good was a Minister of Justice without the heavy hand of intimidation hanging over Paris's head?

Frollo's fingers circled his temples in distress. His voice rumbled, "Amazing—if only you could have harnessed this kind of passion into your schoolwork, maybe we wouldn't be in the situation!"

"I think we're well past that discussion," Jehan snapped, gripping the judge by the tense shoulder. "The problem at hand—unless you're ready to be an uncle, we need to think of a solution!"

Frollo leered at this contemptible young man, gone from groveling to blackmail in a matter of seconds to save his own skin. "After everything that I've endured, a little upturn from the public would be a small price to pay for this woman to drag you away to the chapel to be married."

Jehan's eyes widened at this and his fingers dug into his brother's arms tighter. "Claude, please!" he sorrowfully begged, his voice breaking. "Help me and I promise I'll never tell a soul anything about you—I swear!"

Frollo violently shoved him away. "You'll have to think of a much more sound argument if you want me to assist you yet again." He turned back around to face the darkened city outside the Palace windows, the exhaustion never letting up.

"Wha-what about this," Jehan began pitifully. "If you help me now…then I swear, as God as my witness, I will never ask you to bail me out again."

Frollo let out a mirthless laugh, doubt coloring his voice as he spoke. "Jehan, you have spun me that yarn countless times—why should now be any different? So that you may continue to shun my guidance?"

Jehan ran his trembling hands down his face, feeling himself crumbling. "I…I really think that…" A choked noise escaped him as he looked as though his legs were about to give out yet again. "I might have really made a mess. And I need your help…please…One last time."

Frollo thought hard about this as he heavily sat back down. It was true, Jehan had already brought him enough mortification for his behavior, but this…this was too much even for the seasoned judge. And Jehan barely knew the woman—and unlike many people of their class, they wouldn't be marrying for status or wealth. The judge would be laughed at and sneered at by his peers, the rest of the nobility, possibly even the King. What if his shameful actions became known to the public? Truly respect would be sapped away from his city like a leech. And if Jehan told Quasimodo of the Minister's sins, the boy might never revere him as his guardian. Where would that leave the state of his penance promised all those years ago?

But what wounded him greatly was seeing how distraught Jehan was now as threw out any attempt to convince him to help. How swiftly he turned from using guilt, blackmail, and shameless begging as to garner his brother's help. Was it possible that after all these years, Jehan was at last learning that there were consequences to his insipid actions?

Frollo couldn't also help but pity those two children who would only gain some unreliable lout for a father, should their mother have her way. They would be better off without him, he cynically thought.

He sighed in defeat as a tremendous headache pounded away in his head. Cocking an eyebrow, Frollo asked him, "The absolute last time, correct?"

Jehan's eyes sparkled with hope. "The last time!" He reiterated. "I promise, any trouble I might run into, I'll handle it myself—just, please, help me!"

Quite a conundrum, he mused, rubbing the back of his stiff neck. But not without a solution…

"Are you sure you do not wish to marry her? Those are your children," Frollo asked yet again, testing the seriousness of his brother's decision.

Jehan's eyes fell on the giant iron cross above the fireplace. Looking back at his older brother who patiently waited for an answer, the young man replied, "I'm not a family man, Claude, let alone want to get married. How did you decide to become a father?"

Frollo almost laughed as he remembered how little Jehan actually knew of the details of his life. "I was thrown into it as a test of faith. I did not have a choice, but you do."

Jehan gazed sadly from the flagstones and back to his brother. "I just…I just can't."

Frollo could not help but feel disappointment at the young man's honesty. He might have possessed the treachery of a man, but Jehan still maintained the fortitude of a child. Nodding, his cold eyes met those of Jehan's. The judge rose from his seat and smoothed out his black robe. "If that is your decision," he began. "Then I have an idea."

Jehan's eye glimmered with hope in his brother's dark, calculating mind. Was there any doubt that he could conjure up a solution so promptly? Jehan gleamed in relief, locking his arms around his brother gratefully. "Thank you, thank you, Claude!" He chirped, nearly tearing up at his brother's clemency.

"You're a good man!" Unexpectedly Jehan kissed the Minister on the cheek, eliciting a disgusted frown from him. "What's the plan?" Jehan piped up, hands on his hips.

"First of all, don't ever do that again," Frollo swiped, wiping at his cheek. "Second, wait here." He promptly strode toward the door, somehow more tired than when he was awoken earlier.

"Why? What are you-" Before Jehan could finish his question, Frollo had shut and locked the door behind him, leaving his brother trapped inside.

Outside, the Minister took a moment to catch his breath as he leaned against the icy cold wall, stifling a yawn. He listened to the rain now beating down harshly against the windowpanes. It then registered with him that in a few moments he would be casting out the few traces of family they had in the world. He wished that he could just send his brother away to learn a few things of responsibility by means of taking care of those children.

You cannot forsake your own flesh and blood, he mentally reminded himself. No matter how selfish their decisions might be.

But when has he ever helped me in my time of need? He bitterly countered. All he lives to do is humiliate me!

Did not the law of Moses tell you not to hate your brother in your heart?

But I don't hate him—he has just never stopped trying my patience. Honestly, sometimes he is worse than those infernal gypsies!

…But if anyone does not provide for his relatives…he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever…'

Then by that logic, he should be taking charge of this situation, not me!

He groaned in annoyance as he argued in circles with himself and rubbed at his tired eyes. He agitatedly smoothed back his hair and noticed how more silver locks clung to his hand, a sure sign of his perpetual anxiety.

Well…his inner voice spoke up. What are you waiting for? Your brother's bastard family won't forsake themselves.

He had to go about this carefully now and trust his judicial instincts in his next move as he began unlocking his office door, guilt settling like a rock in his stomach.

Despite how tired he was, he had to present himself as austere and collected as possible, breezing back into his study as if his and Jehan's fates didn't hang in the balance.

Inside the small Basque woman held her son in her lap while her daughter inspected the dusty books lining the study's shelves. Even Frollo couldn't believe how much the children resembled Jehan, and here he was, trying to do away with them.

When the judge entered the room, silence once again fell over the space with the only sound coming from the drizzling rain outside. The little girl Izara gazed up at him, but not in dread like so many, while her brother clung to his mother fearfully. Pomona eyed the Minister cautiously as he lithely sat back down at his desk.

Clearing his throat, Frollo began. "Shall we? On behalf of my dear little brother," he cursed. "I will handle this little affair personally."

"But where is Jehan?" Pomona's subdued voice held obvious suspicion.

"As much as that boy would like to believe he is sly as a fox, he would prefer that I be the one to fix his dilemma again, like the coward he is." Frollo did nothing to hide the disdain he held for his brother. "Please don't touch that!" he ordered the small girl trying to open an ornately decorated box made of bone on one the shelves, her large gray eyes boring into his.

The young woman let out a joyless chuckle. "He's not man enough to face me?"

"Surprisingly not." Poor little wench, Frollo thought to himself darkly. She has no idea what she has gotten herself mixed up in with that boy. "Let's not waste each other's time: why did you seek out Jehan?"

Before answering, Pomona lifted her son out of lap. She whispered something to him and gently patted him to go play with his sister. "My children need their father," she said lowly, folding her delicate hands in her lap. "They wanted to meet him, and…I couldn't let them live without knowing who is."

Leaning forward and steepling his fingers together, Frollo replied, "You'll have to excuse me but I have my suspicions. Explain to me when and where you met Jehan." One of his first instincts was to see whether or not their stories matched up.

"Well," Pomona began, quickly looking over her shoulder to check on her twins. "I was living in Saint-Jean-de-Luz, a very nice town near Spain. About five years ago, it was Easter time and many students flock to the town for celebrations. My father made a large living off of fishing and offered his home to a few of the students visiting…and one of those students was Jehan Frollo. Of course, my father warned them all to stay away from me. But Jehan managed to steal a few hidden moments, and he was so charming-"

"I don't need every detail," Frollo quickly interrupted, disgust causing his lip to curl. "Please just skip ahead."

"Some weeks after the celebrations ended, I began having strange symptoms: I felt sick for most of the days and thought nothing of it. But…after a few months, I began showing." Shyly, she wrapped her worn cloak tighter around her frame. "Truth be told, Your Honor, I had never been with a man before Jehan. And I hadn't after him, so I knew it could only be his."

"And your family allowed you to have the children?" Frollo inquired, his voice low.

"My parents confined me to our home," Pomona continued sorrowfully. "They thought I would bring shame if our neighbors found out I was pregnant. I had the children, but my mother and father agreed that they couldn't allow me to live with them anymore—not with two illegitimate children. They said I was a whore and had no place in society, much less their home. So…they cast me out and I was alone with my son and daughter."

Frollo just faintly remembered Jehan strolling into his study, rambling on with story after story of his Eastertime antics upon returning from Saint-Jean. The whole time never aware of the damage he had left in his wake.

The young woman continued her story. "I found work as a servant to a moneylender's family in Bayonne; the mistress is a very good woman and took pity on us. And about a year later, the master of the house found new work in Bordeaux, so that's where we followed."

Frollo thought carefully about his next question, asking, "Then answer me this: what brought you to Paris? Surely a mere servant does not up and abandon her master's home solely in hopes of finding her children's father."

Tucking a strand of her black hair behind her ear, Pomona answered, "Mistress Boudier is very devout in her beliefs, Your Honor, and she desperately wanted to make the pilgrimage to Saint-Chapelle and Notre Dame. She wants to see the Crown of Thorns more than anything and encouraged a handful of us to accompany her. She and the master are guests to one of the city's money lenders—I believe his name is Cormier."

It stung the Minister, for the same man was known for pestering him over the years for Jehan's personal finances. If there was any doubt in his mind about this woman before, he was becoming more inclined to believe her now.

"Is your mistress aware of your intentions here in Paris?" Frollo evenly asked, an inkling of fear settling in his chest. "To track down the father of your children?"

Pomona rubbed her hands together nervously. "I simply explained to her that there are personal matters to attend to here, but I did not tell her about Jehan."

"And what do you see in your future with Jehan as their father?" Frollo's brows knit together, fearing for his brother.

The young woman nervously smoothed out her skirt. "I…I was hopeful that if Jehan met his children, perhaps…" Her voice was pained and she momentarily glanced back at the towheaded children whispering among themselves. "Perhaps he might find it in his heart to be a part of their lives. That he might consider settling down and helping me raise them."

Frollo pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to sympathize with this stranger anymore. But in his heart he knew that Jehan would never take such a step for another. "Unfortunately, I must be the bearer of bad tidings," he said hollowly, folding his hands neatly before him. "I can assure you that my brother will never accept the role of being the father to your children."

Pomona's eyes widened with shock and froze at such words. "No, no," she muttered. "He will—if he just spoke to them, he'd-"

"He won't," Frollo deadpanned, his expression never changing. "He is hardly a man, let alone fit to be a father. He lacks the ability to offer guidance, or protection, or even loyalty. I have an adopted son of my own and understand what goes into raising a child. Jehan would not be able to endure a moment of that kind of responsibility."

Frollo noticed the children turning their head toward the distressed sound of their mother's gasping words. Trying to avert their attention, he lowered his voice as he grimly spoke. "Consider this: my brother spends his time drinking and gambling more than anything. He will never provide for you, or even be the least bit concerned with your children's well-being. He has barely any regard for the extensive hardships that I have faced for him. In short, he is far from the man you pray he might be."

She shook her head in disbelief, eyes filled with anguish. "No…Jehan will—he will," she desperately tried to assure herself. "If I could only speak to him-"

"I believe he has made a decision already." He couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for this small family resurfacing. Frollo studied how the twins captured the same fascination that Jehan once held as they continued to study his office, feeling his heart sink once more. He remembered when Jehan was as young and curious as these two. But the shy little boy reminded him of Quasimodo, careful to avoid the dark gaze of the Minister.

"Your Honor, let me speak to him, please," she begged, her hands clasping prayer-like.

As much as Frollo wanted to put this dilemma to rest already, he couldn't help but figure that perhaps he should grant her this one request. Maybe Jehan might have a change of heart, he prayed.

"Very well," he said, rising from his seat. Crossing past the curly-haired children towards the door, Frollo stopped to remark to the young woman, "But I promise that that boy will not change his mind."

"Please, just let me speak to him," she repeated, tears welling in her eyes.

With a curt nod, Frollo exited and made his way back to the dark chamber where Jehan sat and waited. The boy cradled his head in his hands, resembling a beggar with nothing left to call his own. Hearing his brother enter, Jehan perked up with hope.

"Did you do it?" he asked, jittery still. "Did you get rid of her?"

The Minister frowned heavily as he thought of those poor children as he studied Jehan's nearly identical bright countenance. "I think you should come with me."

"Why?"

"She still holds a glimmer of hope that you will give yourself to her, and I think you should be there when I dash it to pieces before her," the judge joylessly answered.

Scratching his head uncomfortably, Jehan weakly began, "Yeah…I really don't think it's a good idea for me to-"

"I am destroying a woman's life for you—the least you can do is to face her like a man." His words were cold as stone and blatantly accusatory.

Huffing, Jehan muttered out, "Fine, but I'm not going back on this."

"Agreed. But before we go, there is something else we should discuss."

X

When the brothers returned to the Minister's study, Pomona remained seated across from Frollo's chair, speaking in hushed tones with her little ones.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Jehan greeted as brother closed the door behind him, trying to mask his uneasiness. "We had some things to sort out."

"Which, I believe, we should attend to immediately," Frollo added, taking a seat.

Distrustfully eyeing the two, Pomona protectively held her children as they clung to her arms. Their identical eyes seemed to plead for mercy from the Minister and his brother.

Claude's heart still panged with disappointment in Jehan's choice of action regarding the matter. These children looked just like his little brother, but it meant nothing to the respective father. His children, his decision, he firmly reminded himself. Your nephew and niece…

Frollo kept his stoic demeanor intact while Jehan stood behind his brother like a shadow. "Now then, Pomona," he began, clearing his throat. "Tell Jehan what it is you seek from him."

When the children returned to inspecting the Minister's study, Pomona answered, "Joseba and Izara are your children, Jehan, and they need their father." She cast a tired glance at the nervous little man hiding behind the judge and shyly looking away.

"Do you wish to marry him? To legitimize your children?" Frollo inquired in an even tone, folding his jeweled hands together.

"Possibly," she answered, the brothers raising their eyebrows at her. She looked over her shoulder to see the two children talking amongst themselves and pointing the artifacts decorating the Minister's study walls. "I hope that Jehan will be the father that they need, and to be a part of their lives."

"I can't just pack up and move to Saint-Jean—my whole life is in Paris!" Jehan protested, Frollo raising a hand and shushing him.

"We could stay here, in Paris," Pomona suggested, Jehan paling at the notion. "That way you could be close to them. I could find work here in the city."

"Well of course we cannot ignore the fact that Jehan sired your children, but," Frollo said, catching an uneasy Jehan fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. "I am sorry to say that we cannot keep these children here in Paris; you must take them away. As I previously stated, Jehan would be the worst father-figure for them. Therefore, it would be best for everyone if we would make it so that this never occurred."

Pomona's jaw dropped at the judge's words, indifference coloring his tone while her heart sank. "But…" she began, shocked. "They wanted to meet their father—you want them to just forget that? How will they grow without one?"

Jehan turned away from her damning eyes, absent-mindedly gazing out one of the windows to the rain-soaked city. He glanced back over to the fair-haired twins, so rosy-cheeked and innocent that it almost made his heart swell. Despite what they were doing, he could not help but feel the weight of guilt sting him as it did his brother.

"It would not be proper for us to send you away without some sort of restitution for your trouble," Frollo diplomatically pointed. Taking the key-ring and unlocking a desk drawer, the judge pulled out a coin-purse, which jingled heavily in his hand before setting it before her.

"You want to bribe me to stay away, bastardo?" the young woman accused, her tone sharp.

"The money we are giving you is compensation, to help you somewhat with your children." Turning slightly and studying Jehan, Frollo could see his brother's despondent expression. "And if you wish, we can provide them with a proper educational environment, specifically, that of the Church. Your son, Joseba…he would be sent to a monastery, while Izara would be sent to a nunnery. There they will be cared for and taught to be proper Christians—we, of course, will provide the means to send them."

Pomona's eyes shone with indignation, which now forced her voice to raise. "You expect me to just send my children away? Jehan! You would abandon your own children?!"

Jehan paid her no heed, much to the heartache of the woman sitting across from his brother. Even Claude could not help but feel somewhat dismayed at his brother's failure to jump in and take accountability at the last chance.

"They're your children," Jehan flatly replied with his back still facing her. "Not mine."

"They need you, Jehan!" Behind her, the twins instantly came to her side, assuringly gripping her hands.

"Well I sure as hell can't provide for a whole family!" the young man bluntly said, trying to suppress the shaking of his thin legs.

The Minister spoke up. "This is an incredibly generous offer. You may accept the money for the sake of your children and be on your way…or I can have my men drag you out and throw them to the farthest foundlings' bed in Paris."

"Jehan, please!" Pomona cried with pleading eyes. "What about our time in Saint-Jean-"

"That was years ago!" Jehan fiercely countered, facing her with the same kind of madness etched on his face that was more typical of his brother. He reminded Claude of himself in his unyielding nature, refusing to be toyed with.

"This is our final offer," Frollo sternly addressed. "You may take the money and your children back home, allow me to send them to religious orders, or worse. And, if you attempt to spread this news, I will personally have you arrested and have them thrown to the streets. Choose wisely."

X

Heavy drops of rain mercilessly pelted the city as the brothers stood at the top of the Palace of Justice's stairs. They watched from the entrance as the young woman's figure strode away as she pulled her two children along. For a brief moment, it looked as though the little girl turned around to take a final look at the two before being yanked away by her mother. Suddenly Jehan felt sorrow wrench at his heart as they disappeared into the darkness of Paris's streets.

Pushing the doors shut, the sound echoing throughout the foyer, the Minister turned to his brother. "Well," the judge said hollowly. "Another crisis averted. Good night, Pilate."

Rubbing at his eyes and making his way up the staircase, Frollo felt relieved that now he could finally retire for the evening. However, glancing over his shoulder, he noticed how Jehan had not moved from his spot, staring blankly at the door.

"What is it now?" Frollo asked, exhaustion pulling at his muscles. He inwardly prayed that his brother wasn't going to encourage a night of celebratory drinks, as he usually did after Claude successfully did away with one or another of his problems. "I assumed you would have been overjoyed to have the matter settled."

There was an unfamiliar chapfallen expression drawn over Jehan's usually grinning face. Distraughtly looking back at his brother, the younger meekly asked, "What did we just do?"

"We had a choice to make, so now we will just go about our days as if it never happened," the Minister indifferently replied, his shoulders beginning to slump with fatigue. "This was by far one of the most troublesome Gordian knots I have thus far encountered."

"'Gordian knot'?"

"A complex problem with a simple solution; in this case, our futures and my position could have compromised greatly because of you. And all it took was a few coins to prevent any misfortune from befalling us. Bear in mind, however, that if you have any doubts regarding what just happened, I did not make this choice—you did. And remember that you will never come to me to solve your crises again."

Jehan was frozen, the same muddled expression never changing. "I…I can't…"

Frollo was tired of his brother's catatonic stupidity as he lingered there. "Go off and indulge yourself in wine and women, as always, and you will forget that this ever occurred. Now if there will be no further interruptions, I have had a very long day and I am going to bed."

While the Minister made his way back to his bedchambers, Jehan remained paralyzed in the foyer with a lifeless look on his face.

X

*A/n: Wow, has it been 2 1/2 yrs already? Time really flies when writer's block hits you in the face. But I'm also getting back into the swing of things by working on my other stories, so there's something to look forward to. Also adding a bunch of garbage to my DA.

Here's to anybody out there still reading these, your support means the world to me! I'm hoping that our little community picks up again soon, especially in light of the recent tragedy of Notre Dame.

But anyway, thank you for reading. R/r!