A book in hand—the title unreadable, but the mass of it indicating its abundance of knowledge—the small boy sat high up on a rooftop somewhere contently, overlooking the surrounding trees and gray skies in his dead silent environment.

Suddenly the sound of approaching hooves beckoned his attention away. Turning, he crouched low towards the edge to see who was making their way towards his homestead.

He kept his head low as he examined a large man dismounting a black horse, a bronze skinned beauty in his hold. Her attire contrasted greatly with his dark black and red fur-lined coat, herself covered in magnificent teals, greens, and gold. Holding a wide, calloused hand out to help her down, the bearded man flashed her a desirous grin, returned by her own, before leading her into the grand manor, black chaperon sash trailing behind him, the pair never noticed the pair of eyes following them from above.

The sight was appalling…

No…this isn't right!

The judge heard himself gasp out, sitting up and still covered in darkness, only lit by the thin sliver of moonlight streaming in through his windows.

Frollo could feel the sweat on his forehead as he pressed his hands to his face trying to collect himself. How he detested dreams like these: ones that interrupted his night's sleep by resurrecting visions of the past, ones that he was not fond of welcoming back.

Damn gypsies, he sluggishly cursed before slumping back against the mattress and trying to sleep the rest of the night in peace.

X

As the Minister of Justice rode down the cobblestone streets atop his coal black steed, he was greeted by the usual cautious looks of the Parisian commoners. He always reveled in omnipresence that he seemed to hold over the city: peasants ever mindful of the almighty judge and his lackeys that could be just around the corner. It plagued him to no end that no matter how many of their kind he did away with, the gypsies of Paris could never stay in line for long. He conjured up any kind of loophole that could result in the arrest (or worse) for even something as simple as panhandling. Though the day was young, there was bound to be a few unwitting gypsies that he could stamp out before dusk.

He steered his horse forward on his rounds towards the cathedral. The cool late winter air was refreshing, gently whipping the red sash of his hat as he rode, keeping a keen eye glancing around to make sure everything was as it should be. As he drew closer to the square, Frollo's eyes locked onto a peculiar looking stand that was surrounded by small children, instantly assuming that no good could come of this spectacle.

Drawing his horse up to a reasonable distance, Frollo soon discovered why so many of the town's children had gathered: it was another gypsy puppet show, making the judge sneer in response.

A teenage gypsy boy adorned with a bright purple mask, short black beard, and whimsical purple hat with a yellow feather sticking out of it was the culprit of this show. In one hand he held a paper snake on a wooden rod, a puppet of a princess on the other.

"And the snake said, 'Fear not, my wife, for I am no snake as you see me. Behold me as I am,' before somersaulting and transforming into a man!" The boy tossed the snake figure upwards into a flip before reaching over and retrieving a new puppet of a handsome young warrior, making the princess puppet gasp at the sight. "She saw the man, threw her arms around him and kissed him before saying, 'You will live many years, my king. I thought you would eat me!'" The boy pressed the two figures together showing their kiss, the young audience openly expressing their disgust by their twisted expressions.

The Minister rolled his eyes as the gypsy ended the tale with the princess looking more radiant than ever after she married the snake-turned- man. The children clapped and cheered for their storyteller as he bowed in youthful pride, thanking them for their presence. Seemingly out of nowhere, the boy presented a hand puppet that resembled a certain public official, complete with crooked nose, dark chaperon and red sash, and a menacing expression complimented with sharp, pointed teeth.

"Be safe, little ones," the boy warned. "And behave yourselves, or else the wicked Judge Frollo will come and snatch you up!" He growled humorously as waved the puppet around towards the children, who laughed and feigned screaming at the sight of the tiny judge before them.

From afar, Frollo's lips curled in indignation seeing that this young gypsy was brainwashing impressionable peasant children with such slander.

When the last of them had finally left, the Minister reared his steed up to the puppet master's caravan, who was carefully cleaning up and folding the flimsy backdrop into a nearby trunk. Frollo noticed the boy examine the puppet of him into his hand before chuckling to himself at the sight of it, never noticing its inspiration's slate colored eyes boring holes into the back of his skull.

"You there! Ignorant gypsy!" the judge called as he steered his horse closer towards the puppet stand.

The lanky gypsy boy looked on in disbelief at the imposing man. Suddenly he glanced at the caricature of him in puppet form on his right hand, quickly hiding it behind his back.

"What is your name?" the judge rumbled, his hardened expression never failing him.

The boy frowned and shifted his gaze to the ground. "Clopin," he answered reluctantly.

"How old are you?"

He sighed, "Eighteen, Minister."

"Tell me then, boy. What do you think you are doing?" Frollo narrowed his dark eyes at Clopin fiercely in case he might have forgotten the judge's authoritative stature.

Pursing his lips and keeping his eyes looking away, the boy replied, "Just putting on a show for the little ones."

"An interesting choice of appearance for that particular character that you are so "discreetly" attempting to hide from my knowledge."

Clopin raised the Frollo puppet and studied it again. "You have to admit, Your Honor: the resemblance is uncanny, is it not?" He smirked with great defiance, much to the Minister's chagrin.

Furrowing his brows at such smugness, Frollo spoke lowly as he tried to make this gypsy understand. "Should I see you using such defamatory characters again, the consequences that will follow will be much more severe than a mere warning. Do I make myself clear?"

Clopin raised his eyebrows at the judge. "Have a heart, Minister!" he protested. "I am simply trying to make a decent earning through the use of my art!"

"Art?" the judge asked in disbelief. "I would hardly call what you do to earn your wages an "art"! Merely colorful misrepresentations of the more respectable characters of society! And if not that, then more of that gypsy drivel that you enjoy filling those children's heads with."

Clopin shrugged. "What you call 'misrepresentations' I call more accurate depictions of very unsavory characters. And the others are just old gypsy folklore that we enjoy sharing!"

"Nothing but nonsense that promotes your heathen beliefs. A snake turned into a man and eloping with the king's daughter? Obviously metaphorical for the Devil ensnaring an unwitting woman of the court into his clutches. Witchcraft if I ever saw! And now you fill the minds of Lord's children with these notions, eager I'm sure for them to run off and align themselves with your wicked practices!" Frollo's grip on the horse's reins tightened with his scornful words.

"Well, Your Honor, doesn't your religion also believe that?" the boy argued. "I've heard your book also tells of a woman being persuaded by a snake. Perhaps we're not so different."

"Blasphemy!" Frollo bellowed angrily, hand on the hilt of the sword at his side and heart hammering in his chest. "I should strike you down for even considering us similar! A ludicrous comparison!"

Clopin crossed his wiry arms cross his chest stubbornly and curled his lips at the judge. "Look Judge, there's no harm in just telling stories–fictional or not. Believe it or not, but my tales are actually quite popular among your fellow high-class citizens. They just plop their little ones in front of my shows and run off. I don't think they'd be too pleased if you did away with one of their children's favorite pastimes." Out of pure spite, raised his Frollo caricature and made it nod in agreement.

Damn, he makes a fair point, the judge conceded internally. He rationalized the argument: should he do away with this ridiculous side-show, his fellow nobles would surely lose favor with him for getting rid of their children's entertainment. In his position, it would be most beneficial to keep that favor and loyalty with those of the nobility.

Dammit, dammit! He hated being bested by another–by a gypsy was unthinkable.

Huffing in defeat, Frollo dryly responded, "I will allow you to continue these foolish shows, but-" in a flash, Frollo whipped out his sword and swiped it clean over the man's hand, Clopin flinching instantly at the action. When the gypsy finally looked again at his hand puppet, its face of exaggerated features fell clean off its neck, nearly slicing the tips of his fingers off. "This one will not do."

Clopin's eyes widened and jaw hung open at the Minister's actions, confused at what just happened. "I…I get the point, Minister," he stuttered out.

"Good," Frollo monotonously replied, sheathing the weapon back. "A lesson to be learned every day."

"Clopin?" a small feminine voice piped up from behind causing the Minister to whip his attention around to see a short gypsy girl approaching and staring up at him.

Bright green eyes met the accusing granite ones of his own before looking around to the gypsy teen. "Clopin, what's going on?" she asked, carefully walking around the judge's black horse, who snorted maliciously at her, to join the boy at his side.

"Nothing, Esmeralda," the thin boy answered, protectively clutching her away from the Minister of Justice. Furrowing his brows at the stoic man, he continued, "Minister Frollo and I were just having a discussion about my puppet shows."

The girl, maybe no more than ten years old, gazed up distrustfully at Frollo and asked, "You were? Why?"

Her green eyed gaze unnerved the steady judge; something was…off about this child, but he was unsure what.

"Oh, you know," Clopin said, his voice slightly quivering. "He just wants me to do away with them and resort to begging and starving to death!"

Esmeralda's expression shifted to one of anger and scorn. "You can't do that!" she naïvely protested to the judge who was obviously taken aback. "My brother works hard to feed our family! He loves his puppet shows and you can't take that away from him! Do you know how hard it is for gypsies?!"

Frollo blinked in astonishment at the girl's reprimand. Such powerful, impassioned words from such a young mind…it reminded him so much of himself for a moment.

Regaining his composure, Frollo replied, "Quite a tongue on this one, puppet-master. It would be wise to teach her how to control it; such a trait could be prove to be a dangerous thing if used carelessly for the wrong reasons. Not to mention that eyes such as those could only mean that there is an evil lurking within her." In that moment, the judge and Esmeralda exchanged hateful looks, never hiding their disdain for one another. "Any way, young lady, the fact of the matter is that I had indeed permitted your brother to continue his "art," just so long as he discontinues the use of a certain character.

The girl smirked up at him before pulling Clopin close to allow her to whisper something in his ear. Laughing, he replied, "Yep! The very one!"

Pursing his thin lips at their exchange, Frollo simply said, "Now that that matter is resolved, I partially trust that there will be no more trouble expected from either of you?"

The gypsy duo looked at each other before looking back at Frollo and giving him shared wide but false smiles.

Nodding skeptically, Frollo steered his horse forward onto the rest of their route, hoping that he would never have to run into those two again.

X

How the day seemed to drag on without any reprieve, mercilessly dull to say the least. Frollo wondered for a moment if he should simply return to the Palace of Justice and see to the documents piling up on his desk. Shaking his head, he was about to steer his horse off back home until the sound of a skirmish nearby caught his attention, yanking the reins in its direction.

Frollo stopped the horse abruptly as he looked to a nearby alley where he now witnessed two of his soldiers kicking the life out of some poor gypsy man, bright colored clothes dirtied from being pummeled into the ground.

Lips turning into a sadistic smirk, Frollo suddenly called, "Does the punishment fit the crime, gentlemen?"

The metal-clad dolts gaped at the ominous judge and stood at attention, quickly explaining that the man had been scamming local peasants by posing as lame.

If he could, Frollo would have easily allowed them to carry on, no questions asked, but as Minister of Justice there was certain protocol to be followed.

"Have you any solid evidence to support this claim?" he asked reluctantly, inspecting the withered looking man, leg covered in dirty rags as bandages.

"Sir, we witnessed him with our own eyes standing up and walking about with ease after being given a few coins," one guard stated. "This man is obviously a charlatan!"

Climbing down from his horse and joining the two by their side, Frollo simply replied, "Then let us put it to the test."

Stepping closer, Frollo towered over the gypsy, still huddled on the ground, with a blank expression on his face. "Sit up!" he commanded the man, as though speaking to a loyal dog. The tired man dragged himself to sit up against the wall of the alley, glowering at the stoic Minister.

"Now tell me," Frollo said diplomatically. "Which leg is the one that ails you?"

Clearing his throat, the pallid man answered, "Umm…the left one, Your Honor." His dark eyes flickered nervously back and forth at the leg and up at the judge before him.

Frollo nodded without any change of expression. "Have you any feeling in that leg at all?"

Opening and closing his mouth, the gypsy answered, "No sir. An infection long ago cost me any feeling in it."

"So it never occurred to you to simply do away with it? Amputate it and be rid of such a burden?"

Suddenly the gypsy glanced back at the guards who eyed him cautiously as he seemed to keep from crumbling before the mighty judge. Avoiding those apathetic flint colored eyes, he quietly answered, "I suppose not."

"Now elaborate, please, on why my men claim that you are not as invalid as you would appear."

"Perhaps your men are not as honest as you would prefer!" the gypsy retorted in an acid tone, gnashing his teeth at the impassive Minister.

"I see," Frollo dryly said. Reaching over, he then withdrew his sword from his hilt, the gypsy's eyes widened to the size of saucers and the nearby soldiers grinning wide with their crooked smiles.

"If you are as impaired as you purport yourself to be, then I would not cause any pain if I were, to say, plunge this weapon into that leg that you claim can feel nothing?" Frollo stared icily at the trembling gypsy as he pulled his sword back to take aim, the doltish soldiers shouting encouragement for their superior to do it.

Suddenly in the blink of an eye, a flash of color sprung to its feet and darted down the alley, Frollo immediately ordering the two to seize him.

"Swindling gypsy!" the hot-tempered Minister called out in aggravation as he mounted the horse to follow the two.

Infernal con-artists! All of them! Frollo internally ranted as he split off in another direction in an attempt to locate the man should he evade his men.

Head glancing back and forth like a meerkat, the judge suddenly caught sight of the gypsy sprinting down another nearby alley, lurching the black beast after him. Frollo wanted nothing more than to beat this wretch into the ground himself, half disappointed and relieved when a blur of silver tackled the fraudulent invalid to the ground.

"Minister! How would you prefer us to deal with this waste of skin?" one asked with the weary gypsy in his grasp.

"I believe that the prior handling of the situation seemed appropriate," he answered coolly. "If he has indeed devoted himself to portraying a cripple, then we should at least make sure it is the honest to God truth, should we not?"

With a dismissive wave of his hand, the brutes savagely pushed the gypsy to the ground, instantly resuming their earlier beating.

The bronze-skinned man coughed and wheezed furiously as the soldiers landed more kicks and blows to his already bruised body. Frollo all the while stood idly by, keenly observing the event he had ordered and smiling wolfishly at the display of his unbreakable power.

For a fleeting moment, the judge suddenly locked eyes with the man, his grin immediately disappearing. Suddenly it was as though Frollo could see all those before who had writhed and screamed in agony at his command. Those eyes felt so accusing, so familiar of someone else.

His taut frame felt as though it would crumble under the weight of confusion and sudden guilt as he watched his lackeys beat this man to a pulp.

Do you know how hard it is for gypsies?! He heard the girl's voice echo in his head.

"Stop!" he boomed, raising a shaking hand. The guards looked dumbfounded at this change of heart. "I suppose he has learned the consequences of feigning injury," he quipped, eyes looking to his hands clenched tightly on the horse's reins.

"But sir," one of the big oafs piped up. "You told us-"

"I am well aware of what I commanded and now I am ordering you to cease!"

The two exchanged looks of bewilderment and nodded their heads obediently in understanding, disgust still evident as they glared down at the wounded gypsy.

"Now return to your posts immediately!" With that, the pair scrambled away, afraid to question the authoritative judge.

Despite the internal nagging to help, Frollo watched dolefully as the man struggled on trembling limbs to stand tall.

Frollo shook his head and turned back, eager to get away from whatever haunting sensation had come over him.

Before the gypsy could meet his eyes again, Frollo quickly turned away. "This was merely a one-time instance of mercy, so I intend you keep quiet about this and do not try your chances again, gypsy.

He quickly snapped the reins and the horse trotted off, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts clashing against each other, not knowing what to focus on.

What happened? Why had he suddenly felt these feelings of…what? Pity? Empathy? Remorse?

He had no idea where he was heading; all he wanted to do was carry on without feeling the long-forgotten emotion of guilt for his actions pressing down on him.

x

*A/n: Not dead! But I will be upfront about this: I hate this chapter. This is not my finest hour but I felt I needed to give something. I have a ongoing case of writer's block that is destroying me and at this point I'm not sure of where to go with the story. Right now this is all that I could conjure up so I hope you reading will understand. Maybe I'm too self-critical, I don't know.

I really wanted to throw in other HoND characters with this story to make it somewhat more familiar, and even then Esmeralda was just as outspoken as an kid. And we needed to see more of Frollo's anti-gypsy sentiment, whose roots apparently run deeper than he remembers.

Btw, that snake and princess story is a real gypsy story I found on sacred-texts.

Thanks to all everyone leaving reviews, it really does mean the world to me that you enjoy my work! :'D