Author's Rant: Thanks to an anonymous reviewer, I've been inspired to move on with this chapter a lot faster than I had planned. It was by far one of the best reviews anyone has given me on anything I've written. Whoever you are, you are officially an awesome critic ^_^ and this is written from the Disney standpoint. I have yet to get my hands on the book, though I highly anticipate the day my school's library finally stocks the classics!

As for the who's who in this, I tried matching people up to a role by their personalities. So if you have any suggestions for who should be who, I'd appreciate the help.

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any other mentioned copyrighted material. You all know who does, now shut up and stop looking for a lawsuit before I boot you to the head

Chapter One

Lesson in Defiance

Making his rounds as always, the dark robed figure was one of the very few who did not feel the joy in the city. In fact, many people believed Judge Edward Kelly incapable of any joy, even when he was persecuting gypsies and watching them be tortured in the Palace of Justice, and thus was why all took care to avoid him. It was no secret that he hated Gypsies, likening them to the disgusting creatures that fed on the lowest of scum.

As such, when his eyes fell upon the creature crouched upon the railing he felt only a sense of horrible disgust, but it was accompanied by one of pride. He had molded this Gypsy vermin into a recluse since he was a toddler, forbidding him from leaving the Church or even showing himself to any but the clergy members. The boy was nothing if not loyal to the man he saw as his master, but even his machinations had not squashed the boy's longing to see the world outside.

"Kurt?"

The boy's shoulders tensed as always as he turned to face him, eyes glowing guiltily behind the curtain of his indigo bangs. "Guten morgen, master," he said meekly, attempting a smile as he dropped down from his perch onto the solid stone, posture slightly hunched as the taller man stared him down. The smile vanished, though, when he saw the angry glint in the cold man's eyes.

"What were you staring at?" he asked, his tone that of someone given plenty of power in their position. "Vatching, master," came Kurt's reply, looking back at the people currently darting about the square, "Zhey certainly seem to be enjoying zhemselves." He involuntarily tensed as the man's eyebrow rose; he always forgot that this was a day his master hated more than any other day on the calendar.

Instead of the scolding the boy had expected, the Judge merely shrugged, letting him have it easy on a day when he had enough to deal with. "Come Kurt, it is time for lunch," Kelly said simply, turning around and heading back inside, hands holding onto a basket covered by a white cloth. Like a puppy, the blue-furred mutant followed, his earlier jolliness gone as his gaze remained on the floor. Very rarely did Kurt show any emotion besides humbleness around his master, trying his best to please him to avoid the human's usually vicious scolding.

Making his way past the model table without even a glance, the man sat down at the small, humble table a few feet away from it. Folding his hands on his lap, he raised an eyebrow at the Gypsy. Kurt moved in a near panic, clearing the remains of his meager breakfast from the table and setting the fruit his master brought onto a clean polished plate, setting two goblets nearby. One was made of silver, ornately crafted and polished until it shone like glass. The second was much humbler, simply made of wood and worn smooth over the years. Filling them, wine for his master and water for himself, he sat down on the simple stool across from his master, tail twitching nervously.

Taking a sip from his chalice, Judge Kelly reached for the shelf next to him and withdrew an old, leather-bound book. "Now," he began, voice sounding like a strict schoolteacher, "Shall we begin with your alphabet today?" A bit relieved that his master wasn't going to scold or strike him, Kurt replied, "Yes, master. I'd like zhat very much."

"Good boy. A?"

"Abomination." A twinge of pain filled him as he connected it to one of the many lectures the Judge had given him.

"B?"

"Blasphemy." More pain; Kelly had claimed all Gypsies practiced this.

"C?"

"Contrition." Kurt's thoughts began to wander even as he began answering.

"D?" He began lifting the chalice again, eyes fixed on the book.

"Damnation." His sensitive ears could easily hear the joyous sounds resounding outside.

"E?"

"Eternal Damnation." The boy wondered what it would be like to be out there, just once…

"F?" The Judge brought the chalice to his lips as he sipped at the sweet wine.

"Festival…" He caught himself too late, eyes wide with horror as he watched his master choke and splutter on his wine. Shrinking down under the scathing, angry glare, Kurt pleaded, "Forgiveness, master…my mind was elsevhere…"

Face red, Kelly rose and began to walk towards the now cowering boy. "You were thinking of attending the festival, weren't you?" "NO! I merely…" Kurt began leaving the stool and backing away from the angered human, tail tucked between his legs in nervousness, "It's just zhat you go every year." "I don't enjoy a moment of it! I have no choice, I am a public official!" answered the Judge, his voice somehow remaining calm even as he walked past him and down the stairs leading to the lower part of the tower. The boy followed him like a whipped dog; while the man had taken care of him, he still somehow managed to upset him with little comments that were just a natural part of his curious nature.

"I-I deedn't mean to upset jou, master," he said as they arrived at the walkway connecting the two towers of the church, accent growing thicker the more upset he became, "Bitte vergebt mir." Standing at the railing, Judge Kelly willed his temper to die down. This was to be expected at his age; he knew not Kurt's actual age, but the boy had claimed that he was five when he found him. Fifteen years…had it really been so long since then?

Sighing, he stared down at the square, and then back at the boy, who was kneeling as if praying for forgiveness. "You are forgiven Kurt, I can understand your curiosity, but you don't seem to understand. When your mother abandoned you, anyone else would've burned you at the stake without a qualm," he said, his voice carrying an edge of comforting in its scolding tone, "Can you imagine what they would do to you as an adult?" He could read the pain in the boy's shoulders easily as he stood up; they were quaking with contained tears. It seemed to die down a bit as he stood next to his master, taking a bit of comfort from the hand on his shoulder as he stared wistfully down at the people still setting up the tents.

"The world is a cruel and vile place, Kurt. Full of cutthroats and pickpockets, and the worst kind of vermin you could imagine," Judge Kelly said, looking at the Gypsy once more, "They try to hide it with their bright colors and fanciful music. Monsters, the whole lot of them! In here, you are safe from the pain they bring. The least you could do to repay me is to obey and remain where no one else will harm you." Taking a moment to absorb this, the boy looked down at his hands, the three digits seeming more monstrous than he thought, and then at his toes, which seemed odd coming out of his brown slacks.

"Yes master…" he finally said, dropping his hands to his sides in defeat as the Judge led him back inside. Judge Kelly grinned inwardly; all it took for this boy to obey was to remind him of the one thing he hated to think of most. It was no secret among the priests that this deformed creature resembled a demon, but unlike the boy's master the priests never tried to convince him that was what he was. Cruel and cunning, the Judge was quick to keep his charge in line with that line of reasoning.

Back inside, Kurt strode back to his model table, gazing at the figures. He had watched them all for many years, yet he had never seen cruelty out of the ones he chose to carve. A twinge of doubt filled him as he lifted up the model of the woman with her basket and daughter; never had he heard or seen cruelty from them. They even attended Church, just like the rest.

Why would wicked people attend Church if they were damned to begin with?

Hiding this easily from his master, he looked back up at him with sad eyes. "You resemble a demon, my boy," he continued, striding for the stairs leading back down to the main part of the cathedral, "They would not understand the good soul inside like I do. I am your only friend in this world." Leaving, he then stopped and turned around, pointing up at the tower around him.

"Remember, Kurt, this is your sanctuary. If you leave it, than I cannot protect you."

For several minutes after his master left, Kurt had returned to his post on the railing, gazing down at the humans with conflicted emotions. Both what he knew (and hoped) about the people below and what his master had told him rolled about his mind. The boy trusted his master; he had raised him since he was but a toddler, lost and afraid when he made his way to Notre Dame. His memories of then were vague, but he knew that the Judge had been one of the few to care for him at that age.

Hearing more footsteps, the boy froze, but the heavy scent of incense and parchment reached his nostrils. "Guten tag, Vater," he said, instinctively hopping down to kneel at the archdeacon's feet. The old man smiled gently at him, though it was clearer that he was not as disgusted as the Judge had been. Dressed in a white robe, he seemed to be as spiritually pure as anyone could hope to be, but inside, he felt like a sinner as he gazed down at the boy. So many secrets he was forced to shield him from, yet his heart told him that Kurt deserved the truth.

As he mulled these thoughts over, he blinked when he noticed that he was muttering a prayer of forgiveness in German, as if he was confessing to something. In the fifteen years he had know Kurt, it still surprised him to see how pious he became after the Judge scolded him for merely thinking about the outside world. "None of that, my son," he said in a soft but stern tone, making the blue-furred boy look up, "You have done nothing wrong. I know you long for the world outside, if even to glance at it and taste the free air outside the Church."

"But I upset mein master…" he began, golden eyes confused as the priest shook his head. "I fear he upset you, Kurt. You have never seen the outside world except from this church. If you had no desire to see what it was like, I'd be worried for you." That seemed to calm the Gypsy; he was more than willing to listen to the kind-hearted priest than the cruel Judge. It had been the priest who had squashed Kurt's belief that he was a demon when he learned of the monsters, and it had been the priest who had taught him about the good things in the world.

Looking back down at the festival, his ears seemed to lower a bit as his bad mood came back. Gazing down as well, the priest thought for a while, then smiled as he began walking away. "I know that it is a sin to disobey your master," he said, making Kurt look up at him in confusion, "But if I really wanted to go, I'd believe it better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission, so long as I was cautious about where I was and where I went." With that, he descended the stairs.

Standing there, Kurt had to blink several times as everything slowly began clicking into place in his mind. Was the archdeacon, who preached loyalty and obedience to God, actually suggesting he disobey his master? Shocked, he looked back down at the crowd, then at the doorway.

A broad grin began to split his face as he ran back to the bell tower.

Moments later, he emerged, dressed in a clean tunic and pants and a black hooded robe that hid his demonic appearance. With one last final look back at his tower, he began descending the pillars and statues with as much ease as he traversed the beams.

Kurt was finally going to attend the Festival of Fools.

Notes:

Bitte vergebt mir = Please forgive me

Second chapter up! Please please please review!