From his desk Frollo sat motionlessly and watched the flames of the fireplace burn for what seemed like an eternity. For the past few days the Minister had scarcely left his study, busying himself with paperwork and writing orders to his soldiers, hardly speaking to anybody.

When he did leave his chambers, it was only to Notre Dame to check in on Quasimodo, all the while keeping to himself. He blocked out all other human existence from his sensory receptors and was always absorbed in his own unhappy thoughts.

He was not in the right state of mind, as in not his usual stern, unyielding self. In these last days, the Minister felt like a shell of the man he presented himself as. Not only his mind, but his body was suffering as well: night after night he spent flogging himself and tearing his skin open to distract himself from mental agony. Combined with his now unkempt appearance, complete with dark gray stubble and under eye circles, Frollo closely resembled the prisoners that dwelled in the dungeons below his quarters.

Ever since the boy's baptism, Frollo was unsure of how he should be feeling; he was confused on whether he should hate the child even more for now being in the same spiritual league as him, or compassionate now that Quasimodo would now be officially seen as his son.

Frollo was especially rattled by the Archdeacon's questions; for over sixteen years, nobody had ever asked about the prior relationship he had with that gypsy girl. He went through his daily life always avoiding thinking about the emotional damage that scarred his soul, the result of heartbreak that never left. Especially since the grudge he held against her kind was the product of such hurt. Augustin's words reignited those old bitter feelings of lost love that had tortured him many times over.

Since that night, Frollo had painfully been visited by memories of childhood mischief and days spent together with her that would leave him sleepless and angry with himself for revisiting such times. It left him hateful at the entire gypsy race with every fiber of his being as he watched them from above inhabiting the streets of the city he loved.

But also resentful that the Archdeacon was right: Frollo held such contempt for Quasimodo because in his youth he had foolishly envisioned such a ceremony for his real child…by her, not some poor soul to be burdened with.

The voice in the torn judge's head nagged him endlessly.

Embrace him as your own…the church has declared him as such anyway.

But he is only a gypsy! A heathen spawned by mangy street urchins!

Was she not a gypsy too? The voice retorted. Remember how much you loved her? Protect the boy in her name.

You know that you have never forgiven yourself for what you said to her.

He sneered at the conscience which decided that now of all times would be to reason with him.

Penance not only to God, he thought. But to her as well.

Harshly, Frollo clamped his hands to the sides of his head and dug his nails into his skin, as though trying to prevent any more aggravating thoughts from entering his mind. He despised the sentimental logic that his conscience threw at him. It left him feeling defeated and weak–emotions that he abhorred, especially when he saw his vision blur from tears building up. Wiping his eyes dry, Frollo pushed his hands into his hair and exhaled deeply as he tried to steel himself from falling too deep into a full-fledge nervous breakdown. These inner arguments with himself buzzed around in his head obnoxiously, causing more painful headaches by the hour.

All of these conflicting thoughts and memories had prevented him from carrying out his normal routine, instead wanting as little human interaction as possible. Even though he was a man who liked to stay on routine, Frollo could barely find it in his heart to go out and face the world more than he had to.

It wasn't until a message from the Captain of the Guard reminding him that the sixth of January was approaching soon that Frollo was reeled back to the world before him. He regretfully remembered what that day meant to the city of Paris.

Damn it, he thought bitterly. Another year of this peasant absurdity!

This spiral of depression picked the worst time to strike the judge. Tiredly, he straightened himself up and tried to regain the iron-willed demeanor he needed in order to face such a task. His body ached and was raw but he fought to keep himself steady.

Frollo reminded himself that he would need to be fully focused on keeping everything running smoothly during the dreaded Feast of Fools…a day that he had held great disdain for ever since he was a boy. And in recent years, Jehan had turned it into another spectacle that he could use as an excuse to embarrass his older brother in front of the citizens of Paris.

Reading over the message again, Frollo made a realization: It's a mere day away! Almost instantaneously, he took a piece of parchment and a quill and began to scribble down orders and instructions.

X

The morning of the Festival had arrived and Frollo reluctantly peeled himself out of bed, dreading this day. He might have made purging the city free of sin his personal goal, but the Feast of Fools had proved to be a battle in itself what with more crime and debauchery. How the King could even allow for this immoral lunacy was beyond him.

After throwing on his black cloak and adjusting his hat, Frollo made his way outside to the carriage waiting in front of the Palace of Justice. During the rickety journey to the square, Frollo went over his mental notes repeatedly to ready himself for madness that laid ahead.

Hopefully Jehan will not cause any more commotion than need be, he prayed, anxiously toying with one of his rings.

Soon the sound of hundreds of voices could be heard, becoming deafening as soon as he stepped out of the carriage. The square burst with color and music, streamers and performers as far as the eye could see. Most of the citizens already reeked of alcohol and enjoyed the merriment.

Frollo motioned for his Captain to come forward. "Captain Gerard, remember: any disruption of peace and sign of lawlessness, take care of it!" he fiercely ordered. "And if you run across my brother, report him to me immediately!" he added before heading up towards his designated seating area.

"Yes sir!" the tall burly man responded before dispatching his men into the crowds.

Frollo scanned around the ocean of happy, drunken Parisians in a fruitless attempt to seek out his curly-haired brother. The sight and feeling of being surrounded by peasants by almost agoraphobic, and on top of that, Jehan was on the loose up to who knows what? Anything could happen.

As the festivities kicked off, the city was captivated by the endless amounts of entertainers, from jesters to fire-eaters, stilt-walkers and dancers. Frollo, however, drummed his fingers on the arm rest of his chair tensely with eyes shifting left and right, still trying to find Jehan. He attempted to distract himself by ordering guards to anywhere that indicated a crime in progress.

You are making yourself paranoid, he thought to himself, detesting this uncharacteristic jitteriness.

He wouldn't be so paranoid if only he knew where his brother was. He continue to fidget until he heard a voice call, "Minister! We've located your brother!"

Leaping to his feet, Frollo quickly ordered, "Lead me to him," and followed Gerard.

Elbowing harshly through the merry crowd of festival-goers, Frollo pleaded internally, Jehan, you had better not be doing anything idiotic…

The Captain motioned to a group of chagrined looking scantily-clad women standing about, stopping before them. His brother, however, was still nowhere to be found.

"Well?" Frollo asked irritably, instantly disgusted at the pair. "If you have indeed located Jehan, then where is he?!"

The Captain looked a bit embarrassed at the question. "Sir, please. He was right here when I left him. I found him with this lot here."

Frollo's sights rested on these women, causing him to twist his face in annoyance. "What has he done this time?" he asked them.

"The blond kid?" one of the rounder ones asked. "He tried to get some time with a few of us, but said he would pay up later. Something about going to find his brother for money. As soon as your guard coming, he took off, to where, we don't know."

Frollo huffed in exasperation. "Helpful to the last detail," he sarcastically quipped. Turning to the Captain Gerard, he darkly uttered to him, "I want him found at once!"

All of a sudden, the volume of the crowd seemed to increase as they broke out into unison cheers. Frollo looked across the sea of people at the center stage where colorfully attired jesters and peasants now lined up. Though the master of cermonies's energetic voice was inaudible in the throng of spectators, the judge knew that the festival had reached its height and the time that everyone looked forward to: the crowning of the King of Fools.

As the crowd rejected hopeful contestants who attempted their "ugliest" face, it was then that Frollo saw in the midst of the mob of people a mass of blond curls and began to rush toward the figure.

His journey was cut short by more onlookers packing tighter together, making it impossible to get through. He cursed the awful timing in finally finding his brother.

"Jehan!" the Minister shouted loudly, hoping that miraculously the teen would hear him.

The laughter and insults from the peasant folk grated his ears as they continued to watch the event onstage.

Damn this idiocy! Simple-minded imbeciles, celebrating something so vile as worshipping one who can present themselves as the biggest dolt.

The volume again reached another peak when the mass applauded a warty, heavy-set man (a city grave-digger) as their king. Words of admiration and disgust filled the atmosphere.

"He's repulsive!"

"Absolutely wretched!"

"A sight to behold!"

Frollo rolled his eyes at their amusement before turning back to scan through the crowd. But it was becoming increasingly difficult with more people closing in and blocking his view. Most were either too drunk or too distracted to notice the Minister of Justice among them. Nevertheless, he pushed and shoved through the throngs of people.

"What's that kid doing?!" a spectator called out, causing the judge to stop and direct his attention towards center stage. Frollo's jaw dropped and he paled in horror as he witnessed his younger brother clambering up onto the stage, much to the confusion of the presenters and audience alike.

Jehan wore a stupid, intoxicated smile on his red face and was barely balanced, instead swaying back and forth and ready to drop any moment. "Good citizens of Paris, please!" he announced with joviality, waving his arms to draw the attention on him. "This is not how you crown the King of Fools!"

The Minister was frozen in place as he watched Jehan, too stunned to even think about what was happening. He could only watch his brother make a fool of himself in front of the entire city.

The boy grinned as he continued his speech. "You don't pick a King of Fools by the hideousness of his face; you should be crowning the biggest moron this city has to offer!"

For some reason the crowd was too entertained to drag him away from the stage, instead wanting him to go on, much to Frollo's dismay. He still pushed further towards the stage which now felt like a million miles away in such a vast amount of people.

"Take my brother for example!" Jehan called with an arrogant grin and beet-red face, Frollo stopping immediately where he was and again looked to his brother above. "He has to keep watch over this whole city, and he decided to adopt a small demon as his own! As you can see, my brother is both the Minister of Justice and an idiot!"

Many of the audience members turned their attention to the judge who they now barely noticed was with them. Most of them backed away as they saw Frollo's face was contorted with anger as he marched toward the stage.

Jehan began to ramble on that he was a god among mortals, high above the rest of them. A few annoyed jesters and performers climbed up onstage and attempted to grab hold of him only for him to swat them away.

"You can't touch me!" he slurred, slapping their hands away. "My brother's the Minister of Justice; he'll have you all hanged for this! Right, Claude?" he asked when he saw the judge striding towards him, teeth bared and fuming with rage.

"Tell these commoners that they can't do a thing-" Frollo gripped him tightly by the arms and wordlessly dragged him away down the steps. "You look like hell," the boy commented and laughed, Frollo paying no attention to him.

"Captain!" The Minister called violently, ignoring the frightened onlookers who stared at the brothers. Gerard and more soldiers arrived swiftly and awaited the Minister's orders. "Take this miserable lout back to the Palace of Justice at once!" He cast a heated glance to the dazed teenager, still locked in his brother's iron-like grip. "I will deal with you later…" he warned ominously before shoving Jehan towards the guards.

The crowd fell dead silent as the Minister climbed to the platform once more, his face stone-like and indifferent as he faced the city. Blood roared in his ears and forgot all pretense of keeping the festival running smoothly.

"This festival is over!"

X

Frollo ordered his men to lock up Jehan in the Palace's dungeons; he had decided that after such an episode, he would not further spoil the boy by locking in him inside one the building's many guest rooms.

The judge had spent the rest of the day going through hearings for those arrested during the festivities. Admittingly, most of the sentences he ordered seemed a bit of excessive, but that was to be expected since he was still shaking with boiling anger. Because of that, Frollo decided that if he went and saw his brother immediately, he probably would have done something regrettable. Like break every little thieving finger, he mused resentfully.

Signing the last sentence, Frollo sighed in exhaustion from the dreadfully long day. But he knew that it was time to go and check on his brother, even though it pained him to do so.

He tiredly made his way down to dimly-lit and bitingly cold dungeon, quickly ordering the warden to show him to his brother.

"When we locked him up earlier. He mostly just kicked and screamed a lot, sir," the man explained, averting his eyes from the Minister, who looked ready to snap. "But he tired himself out soon enough; 'spose the booze ran its course, now he's just sleeping it off."

As he has his entire life, Frollo thought bitterly, teeth grinding at imagining that blithe and youthful grin that would no doubt welcome him.

Arriving at the isolated cell, the warden was correct that Jehan was still out cold, slumped over against the wall and snoring loudly after a long day of swimming in wine.

"You may take your leave now," Frollo said, the man nodding and heading in the opposite direction leaving the Minister alone.

Frollo looked at his brother and shook his head. "Jehan!" he bellowed, his gravelly voice echoing off the damp stone walls.

The blond boy groaned at hearing his brother's voice before picking his head up in the general direction of the Minister. "What is it, Claude?" he asked groggily, rubbing his eyes.

Frollo crossed his arms over his chest and gritted his teeth. "I hope you're satisfied with what you have done: because of your little stunt, you have humiliated and made a mockery of me in front of the whole city!" he hissed, damning the iron bars keeping him from beating the living daylights out of the teen.

Rising shakily to his feet, Jehan inched closer to his brother on the other side. "Claude, understand that I wasn't in the right state of mind. I would never have done that at any other given time. It was a mistake and I promise it will not happen again," he said smoothly. Jehan stretched his arms lazily before saying, "Now, will you please let me out of this cell? I'd like to return home to my dorm."

Frollo narrowed his stone-gray eyes at Jehan and coldly replied, "No. I'm ordering that you be detained here until I say otherwise. No more than a week, I'm sure."

Jehan's expression changed to one of bafflement. "What? Why?!"

"You have caused me enough trouble in these past few days, and I believe that some time away from wretched vices and influences will do you some good."

"Claude, you can't do this!" Jehan protested, gripping his hands around the iron bars of the cell.

Frollo smirked at him. "As a matter of fact, I can. You seemed to have forgotten who is Minister of Justice and who is not."

His brother shook his head in fear of this decision.

"Enjoy your stay," the judge icily clipped before turning to leave.

x

*A/n: Been another busy week or so because of some stupid essay, but I prevailed! Now I'm just worrying about end of the year stuff like GradNight at Disneyland! But enough of that…

So here's another episode of the oh so old tale of younger siblings being pains. Jehan really knows how to push his brother's buttons, doesn't he? And as you can see, I love writing about Frollo with emotional problems, like spiraling. I would've updated sooner but my wifi crashed so yeah. Let me know what you think!