After the events that followed Tupsy Turvy, that spiraling infernal week, and the posterior negotiation and releasing of the gypsies… When he had finally gotten back to his personal chamber, Claude Frollo had slept for nearly 48 hours straight. The exhaustion and built up tension in his body had brought him into an almost comatose dreamless state, and when he had eventually awoken, for a second he doubted if it had all been a nightmare.

But as he got up and regained some clarity of mind, he remembered every crucial detail of what had transpired. Including Esmeralda agreeing to stay at the Palace, just down the hallway from him at that very moment. It was all real, he realized. The best… but also the worst of it.

He had set fire to the city. To innocent people's houses. And he would have to take responsibility for that, first and foremost, if he wanted to have peace of mind to face what would come next.

So the next couple of days he had went back to those places and offered the families economic compensations for any harm done, in an attempt to save his reputation and preserve their respect for him and his ruling. He briefly explained to them that it had been a necessary mean to an end, but now it was all solved and they could resume their lives with that monetary assistance. He'd never knew if their gratitude was honest or only fear-based, but the point was, everyone was back at their proper position.

He could see people scattering terrified as soon as he showed up, but he assumed they'd grow out of it eventually. Better be feared than disrespected.

He also spoke with the archdeacon of Notre Dame, who apparently had sent word of his mad deeds to his superiors, in an attempt to get someone to step in and put some order in the matter. He reassured him that he repented deeply, and understood the error in his ways. He attributed the madness to an evil spell placed upon his pious mind, and affirmed that God had finally took pity on his soul and freed him of the dark influence, allowing him to release the gypsies and make amends with the city. He never once mentioned the gypsy girl, nor did the priest ask about her, luckily. The archdeacon was a kind but simple man, and he fell easily for the judge's explanations, finding relief in them and assuring Frollo he would promptly write back to his superiors and inform them of the happy unfolding of events.

That left the judge with only one matter left to address. The one he had postponed to the end, for he dreaded it more than anything else. Quasimodo.

He had bought some fresh fruit, which he knew the boy loved, and only occasionally had, as a special treat. But as he climbed the stairs to the bell tower, he felt stupid when realizing a bunch of grapes weren't nearly enough to make up for what he had done.

When he arrived at Quasimodo's quarters, he found him laying on the bed, facing the wall. He cleared his throat, to make his presence known, but the young man didn't react.

"This will be a tough one", Frollo thought, and inhaling deeply, he laid the food basket on the nearest surface, and grabbing a chair, he sat next to the bed.

- You have a right to be mad. - he started. He knew downplaying the situation like he had done with the citizens, or faking a religious contrition, wouldn't work on the boy. His only chance was to somehow convince him that his motivations had been pure. - I know I betrayed your trust. But I don't think you understand the seriousness of the situation we were in.

Quasimodo snorted, without looking at him. "Well, at least he reacted".

- The gypsies had gone out of control. You saw what happened at Tupsy Turvy. They caused a riot, their pagan traditions, their uncontrolled drinking, their depraved rejoicing on deformity and vulgarity… They infested the citizens with their sinful behavior and made them think they could do as they pleased, unleashing their lower instincts free.- he declared with a repulsed tone. And then, placing a hand on the laying man, he continued with a much softer voice. - Look where that got you. How they feasted on your helplessness. I couldn't let them get away with...

Suddenly, Quasimodo got up in a jump, almost startling the judge off his chair.

- I wouldn't have been helpless if you had stop them! - he accused with a raging voice.

Frollo lifted his palms, in a surrender gesture.

- I was trying to show you how the outside world works. I had to, or else you would have tried to mingle with the commoners again, without my supervision, and God knows what they would've done to you then. Believe me – he assured, getting up and walking towards him – it hurt me more than you.

But Quasimodo shook his head, and he walked to the main room, leaving him behind. Frollo followed him carefully.

- You say the gypsies caused the cruelty… but it was Esmeralda, a gypsy, the only one who did anything to stop it. To help me. So maybe you are wrong? - he asked, turning his head towards the judge with a dissapointed look.

Frollo pondered his options. He didn't want to take back his words, for he actually believed gypsies were an unholy plague for any city they stumbled upon. And he definitely didn't want Quasimodo to get the impression that it was safe to go outside again.

Gypsies or not, the world was not a safe place for the misshapen boy. He didn't remember this, but when he was very young, Frollo had tried to take him to school, in an attempt to give him a normal life and opportunity to learn how to read and write. But as soon as they'd shown up at the school entrance, all the kids had started pointing at him, and laughing hysterically like donkeys, making impressions of him with silly faces. Even the adults had started whispering among themselves and chuckling without any decency.

Quasimodo was too young to fully understand what was happening, so before he could, Frollo just grabbed his hand and pulled him away, without stopping until everyone was left behind. He had then resolved to teach the boy himself, and to keep him safe from any cruel, mocking eyes, even if that meant he'd be his only friend in the whole city, and later the object of his adolescent rebellion.

But he had to yield a little in order to win some terrain.

- Maybe I was being too drastic. - he finally admitted, watching gladly how Quasimodo's expression softened. That encouraged him to keep going. - That's why I decided to give them a second chance. I figured a night at the dungeons would make them reconsider their sinful ways and perhaps gain a little respect for authority. I'm sure you've heard I let them go with a warning, after that.

- Yes, I saw it. - Quasimodo replied, pointing his head towards the balustrade outside. - But what about Esmeralda? I haven't seen her around.

Frollo swallowed and cleared his throat, trying to buy some time. He knew of the boy's feelings towards the gypsy dancer, so he was stepping on thin ice here.

- Well, - he finally said- she has chosen to stay at the Palace of Justice as a guarantee that their people can be trusted. A safety clause, if you will.

- She chose that? On her own free will? - Quasimodo asked, suspicious.

- Indeed. - Frollo replied, with a steady expression. Well, she had, hadn't she? - You mustn't worry about her – he continued, trying to settle the matter. - She's safe and sound.

Quasimodo evaluated his master's expression, and eventually he must had found it convincing, for he sighed heavily and drop his shoulders, as if an enormous burden had been lifted from his back.

This was the moment Frollo chose to come near him again, and placing a hand softly on his forearm, he asked:

- So… will you forgive me, my dear boy? For needing your involuntary help trying to work out the higher good?

Quasimodo lifted an eyebrow at that convenient choice of words, but finally he patted his master's hand with his own, and answered:

- Of course I forgive you. You're my only family. My protector.

- Well then – Frollo said gladly, settling the matter. He took the food basket from Quasimodo's room at brought it to the main table, where the cathedral miniature and people's figures stood. He looked around the surface, and with a wounded tone he suddenly asked:

- Did you get rid of my figure? Or maybe destroyed it in your anger?

- What? No! - Quasimodo quickly replied, checking the table himself before suddenly remembering- Oh, Djali ate it, I'm afraid…

- Who again?

- Djali… Esmeralda's pet goat.

Quasimodo looked amused at Frollo's puzzled expression, and with a chuckle, he lifted the basket cover and exclaimed with a smile:

- You brought grapes!