Author's Rant: Shout out to everyone for their enthusiastic reviews ^_^

First off; 8U I apologize that this took so long to update, for real life has been a major pain lately. Between my computer having to get repaired over and over by incompetent repair people who only made matters worse, viruses sneaking into it, and then loads of other real life obstacles, I haven't had much time or inspiration to finish this chapter for the longest time. But now, I am back with a vengeance *insert thunderclap and maniacal laughter*, and I will try my damned hardest to complete this!

In case I screw up with anything, I am admitting right now that I am mostly working off of memory of the movie as I write this. I've watched it a lot during the year, so I can almost perfectly remember the gist of the plot and key events. However, this is not a perfect retelling of the movie version. This is an adaptation, meaning I reserve the artistic license to modify points here and there in order to make things work out. As such, during my frustrations to find a character to take the role of Phoebus, I ended having to go with what would work later on, while not sacrificing the integrity of any mutants that I happen to like xD

Also, some forewarning about any German in this. I am using Google Translate, so if anything is inaccurate, please let me know!

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 Four

Kindred

"Vergib mir Vater, denn ich habe gesündigt …"

Hands clasped together in prayer, Kurt's voice was shaky as he recited the familiar words, trying to draw comfort from them. He was trembling all over in fear and pain, and if he took time to really pick apart his emotions, a bit of indignant anger could be found deeply buried.

Why?

Why did he disobey? His master had warned him that they would try to kill him, and had it not been for the Gypsy girl, he would be dead by now. The wound in his shoulder still throbbed, even after he had cleaned it, and it only served to deepen his misery. Not even the prayer of forgiveness could distract him from it.

Tears left streaks in his midnight colored fur, and he finally opened his eyes, the yellow orbs slightly red from crying. Kurt needed to find the archdeacon, seeing as he was the only other person who could tend to him, and also because they both needed guidance now. The good man had not intended to see the bellringer harmed, and thus the boy held no quarrel with him. But with his master most likely ready to whip him when he came back to see him, he would need all the support he could get now before he was shut inside the tower again.

Standing up, he looked once at the balcony, where hours before he had been so eager to dream of the outside world. Now, it made him cringe in terror, the afternoon light highlighting his features oddly before he tentatively descended the comfortable darkness of the stairwell.

Since its completion, Notre Dame had stood as a sanctuary to those in need. Even on festival days, it was not unusual to find the pious or desperate here, sitting or kneeling among the pews with hands clasped in prayer. To these people, they felt their faith would solve their many earthly problems, and thus, they devoted hours, sometimes even days to their prayers, rivaling the nuns and monks with their devotions.

But not all who entered the rows of pews sought the sanctity that such meditation could give.

Dressed head to toe in a dark shawl and cloak, the figure would seem like another beggar, creeping into the cathedral for a chance to find some peace while the commotion outside continued on. Many of the sounds were frightening; calls of the soldiers mixed with the frightened voices of the Gypsies, who packed their belongings early to retreat back to their homes for the night. No one had expected the festival to take such a turn, and it certainly had thrown many for a loop.

Lowering her hood, Amanda could only begin to contemplate these things as well, looking around the vast interior and closing the doors behind her. The disguise had worked enough, or so she hoped, to escape the clutches of the Judge. Now that she was inside the Church, the Gypsy girl felt out of place, the white blouse and purple skirt standing out starkly compared to the muted clothing of the others occupying the chamber. She had come in here with the intention of making sure that the boy was alright, but it hadn't occurred to her whether or not she would find him in the enormous, castle-like structure.

Neither did she expect to feel a set of hands settle on her shoulders. Shoving them off, she turned around with the intent of slapping the offender-

-only to have her hand stop inches from the face of a familiar looking man.

"Stefan?" Amanda hissed, keeping her tone low as she looked up at her brother. Unlike his sister, his short hair was a deep blonde color that matched the gilded armor he wore, and his own blue eyes were stunned when he saw the face of someone he had not seen in years. "I thought you were away fighting the Crusades!" she continued, glad to see him but knowing that this was probably not the best of times for them to see each other. He shook his head, speaking in an equally low tone, "I was called back to serve under Judge Edward Kelly in the Palace of Justice. I didn't think you and Mother would stop here, of all places."

Before the conversation could continue, he turned when the door was opened, showing the evil, gaunt face of the bloodthirsty man.

"Well Captain?" he said, keeping his voice down in reverence of the holy place instead of for the peace of the others, "Arrest that Gyspy, now!"

"I cannot," Stefan said, the lie undetected in his voice, "She has called for Sanctuary. I cannot touch her." Once again, Amanda thanked the powers that be it was her brother and not another soldier that had found her.

Contempt dripped from Kelly's voice as he growled, "Then drag her out and arrest-"

"You will do no such thing in THIS church," answered a deep voice, and the archdeacon emerged from the shadows where he had been lighting the candles nearby, "Or have you yet to learn from the last time you disobeyed the sanctity of this place?" He seemed smugly amused as the Judge's face went purple with rage, ordering the soldiers to leave before he followed them out. "Very well then," he said, voice deathly calm as an evil grin replaced the look of rage, "Then we will see how long you can last in this sanctuary. Gypsies, after all, don't do well in stone walls."

Leaning near her, his voice oddly husky, he added, "And then I will most enjoy seeing a rope around that beautiful neck, you witch."

Amanda nearly spat in his face as he left, feeling like something disgusting had crawled over her as the church slowly emptied. Her brother, however, gave her a glance that indicated he would try to get in touch with her once it was safe. At least she knew he would be able to keep a secret as important as being siblings. But it did not stop her from casting him a hurt expression when she heard the Judge demand, "Post a guard at every door! If she sets one foot outside of Notre Dame, arrest her!"

Growling in frustration, the young woman found herself slumping to sit against the wall, burying her face in her arms as she tried to fight the indignant feeling inside of her. What a day indeed, she realized. Her brother, whom she had not seen in years, was now under the employment of the same man that wanted her dead, and not she was stuck inside of the last place she wanted to be, on threat of facing the man's twisted 'justice' the moment she tried to escape. It was a hopeless situation, but one she was determined not to let get the better of her.

Only the archdeacon showed her any pity, standing nearby as he lit the candles to illuminate the church with the sun setting outside. "I am sorry for this misfortune, my child," he said, already saddened by the suffering that he had witnessed when the bellringer had ran inside as if Hell was nipping at his ankles. "I still can't believe what they did to that boy!" she finally said, tone raised just enough to draw angered glances from the praying men and women nearby, "You saw it! They were about to kill him just because of the way he looked!" A surprised look crossed his features at her outburst, but it was not without gratitude. Most of the few people who knew of the Gypsy's existence had at first proclaimed him a demon, or at least a sinner that had been condemned to his odd form. But given how she was raised, it went without staying that she would be more understanding of the boy's plight, and thus more compassionate.

For a few moments, the girl said nothing, fuming in her obvious anger before her shoulders slumped in defeat. "What do they have against people who are different?" she finally asked, looking over at him with eyes that had seen much suffering blown to her people, who for the most part could not help being what they were. It was the same everywhere they went, she knew; while some places were more tolerant than others, there were always those who looked upon the Gypsies as vermin, took every chance they could to scrub them from the face of the earth, and all without a single thought that they had not asked to be born that way. Just the thought of such unfair treatment to the freedom loving people made her blood boil.

"I cannot answer all your questions, child," the old man said, patting her shoulder like a father would to his child, "But-"

"You! Bellringer!" shouted another monk, glaring at the stairs that led into the high tower above, "Haven't you caused enough trouble today?" All glares now centered on the boy who had appeared on them, eyes wide with shock. Amanda turned quickly, and began to run after him as he bolted, his feet barely making a sound on the stairs.

"Wait!"

Hope that this makes up for the absence! Peace out!

~Grimmeh