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Chapter Text

“High King Benjamin of Auradon has decreed…that seven children from the Isle of the Lost shall be pardoned of all their crimes and sent to Auradon without delay.”
“These children are…Claudine Frollo, Maleficent Bertha, Carlos de Vil, Evelyn Grimhilde, Yahya ibn Jafar…and Tarquinia Frollo, along with her daughter Imelda.”

“Olim passer fabam vidit,” Tarquinia told a tucked-in Claudine. “Once the sparrow saw a bean. ‘Euge!’ passer clamavit. ‘Hooray!’ the sparrow shouted. Non debet cibum invenire hodie. He did not have to find food today.”

“Get up and fix your habits. You’re going to Auradon, along with that disgusting brat.” Judge Claude Frollo swept into the room, face warmed a bit with pride. Tarquinia mentally prayed an Ave Maria to keep herself from rolling her eyes. “And stop telling your sister those wretched stories. She should be reading the Bible and her prayers.” 

Claude Frollo marched out of the room, and Tarquinia and Claudine were left alone with Imelda in her crib. Tarquinia carefully picked up Imelda.

“There won’t be any nuns left on the Isle after we leave,” Claudine fretted, running her hands over her snowy veil. “What’ll happen to Father?”

“I promise you Claudine, it’ll be okay.”
The convent was packed up in a matter of seconds: Tarquinia had a suitcase and Claudine had a backpack. Imelda was in the baby wrap Tarquinia had made from an old mantle.

The first thing Tarquinia noticed was the sun. The convent had two dilapidated windows and very little light came in. Now, it was like everything was ten times brighter. Tarquinia’s cappa felt uncomfortably warm but she grit her teeth and smiled.

In front of Tarquinia and Claudine were four scruffy teenagers: a girl with purple hair, a girl with blue hair, a boy with salt-and-pepper hair, and a boy with gorgeous black hair. The blue-haired girl’s dress was sleeveless.

“Take my cappa.”

The words came out of Tarquinia’s mouth before she could think about it further. She was giving away a piece of the holy habit to a stranger. She’d have to confess to that later when she could find a church.

Tarquinia took off her cappa and extended it to the young girl. The girl took it and slid it over her head.

“I’m Evie,” she said, smiling.

“Sister Tarquinia, and this is my actual sister, Sister Claudine.” Claudine smiled and waved shyly.

“What’s with the whites?” asked the purple-haired girl. “Are you some kind of penguin?

“We are nuns of the Order of Preachers,” Claudine replied.

“Cool. Like I’m supposed to know what that is.”

“Dominican Order,” Tarquinia stepped in to explain. “We’re cloistered nuns, meaning we just pray and meditate. This is our habit, which is like a uniform.”

“Boring. I’m Mal,” the purple-haired girl scoffed. Tarquinia squeezed her eyes shut. Envy was a mortal sin. Envy was a mortal sin. Mal poked the boy with the pretty hair. “This is Jay, and the other kid is Carlos.” Tarquinia gave a small nod.

The limo pulled up without much fanfare. Small Auradon flags waved against its glossy black surface. The driver got out of the car and held the door open for the seven children, who all got into the car.

Tarquinia absent-mindedly reached for the rosary at her belt. She skipped the Creed and went straight to the first Our Father.
She didn’t expect every cell in her body to catch fire.

The pain spread from her head to her toes: it took all of Tarquinia’s willpower not to scream. Across from Tarquinia, Mal’s eyes were screwed shut. Jay was handling it the worst: his eyes were glowing red as his lips silently moved. A whirlwind of glowing dust produced a silver lamp at Jay’s feet.

“GET HELP!” Tarquinia shouted. “HELP!” She felt the driver pulling over just as she blacked out.

Tarquinia woke up in an unfamiliar room. She was propped up in a bed with a pink duvet. Her sister was asleep in a similar bed. A man in a wheelchair sat by her sister’s bed. Next to her bed was a Black woman wearing a knee-length green dress along with a Black man who Tarquinia assumed was her husband. A woman wearing a beautiful purple skirt was talking with a tan-skinned man in red.

“Sister Tarquinia?”

It was one of the two white people in the room who had spoken. He wore a lab coat and gloves and carried a clipboard. Tarquinia identified him as a doctor.

“Yes, Doctor?” Tarquinia replied.

“You experienced magical overload on the drive into Auradon. We rushed you and your peers to the school. Unfortunately, we had to remove your belt and veil to treat you properly. Your tunic, scapular, and underskirt were not removed.”

Tarquinia reached for her head. True to the doctor’s word, her veil was absent. Instead of the veil, Tarquinia’s hand closed around a chunk of dry coils.

“The mirror,” the other white person commanded. “Give her the mirror.” The doctor handed the mirror to Tarquinia, who looked at it only briefly to avoid the sin of vanity.

Tarquinia’s eyes had deepened from their usual brown to a beautiful royal purple. Streaks of violet and lavender had also become a new addition to her deep brown coils. But the thing that struck her most was the wings.

Protruding from her shoulders was a pair of feathered black wings. The occasional purple streak could be found among the feathers: it only enhanced Tarquinia’s awe.

“Will I still be able to wear the habit?” Tarquinia asked after giving back the mirror, mind still darting to the wings.

“There is a convent in Auradon City. If you choose to remain a nun, you will go there. If you choose to shed the habit, you will be fostered by the King and Queen of Maldonia,” the doctor said. “The Archdeacon of Notre Dame de Paris will be here shortly to go over your options.”

Tarquinia’s stomach rolled and she fought back the urge to vomit. What was wrong with her? Why did her heart lighten at the idea of shedding the habit? Wasn’t her Savior supposed to be her all and her only? Where did she sin? She was a Bride of Christ. She would not give herself to the pleasures of the world. As she erected her usual mental walls, she heard the doctor speaking.

“Sister Claudine, the same option is available to you. You are free to shed the habit or move to the convent during the time that you are not receiving your education. You have received an apprenticeship offer from Hephaestus. Additionally, Esmeralda de Chateaupers is willing to take you in should you refuse the apprenticeship.”

“Who is Hephaestus?” Claudine asked, eyes slightly glazed.

“I am Hephaestus,” the man in the wheelchair replied, smiling warmly. “I am the Greek god of blacksmiths, craftsmen, fire, and the forge. I’ve seen the rosaries you’ve made: you’re quite talented. I would love to have you as my apprentice.”

“Papa didn’t say good things about you,” Claudine mumbled. “But I want to make things. Can I say yes please please please Tarquinia?”

“Claudine, if you want to make things, take the apprenticeship. Papa isn’t here.” Tarquinia smiled even as her own mind screamed to not let Claudine do this she couldn’t throw her salvation away.

“Okay Mr. Hephaestus! I’m saying yes,” Claudine told the kind-looking god. Tarquinia tried to ignore the way Hephaestus’ brow furrowed. “And I’m choosing not to be a nun. I’m done.”

“Is she cleared to go home, Doctor?” Hephaestus asked.

“I’m afraid not, my Lord,” the doctor said. “Claudine Frollo is 15 weeks pregnant. If you have a residence away from the forge, it would be in your best interests for you both to stay there.”

“I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

Tarquinia had been the one to cry out. Her sister was pregnant? She was thirteen!

“First of all, Claudine, congratulations. Secondly, Hephaestus, it will most likely be unsafe to let Claudine into your forge during her pregnancy: you must wait until after the baby is born. Thirdly, Auradon’s genetic testing is quite advanced. It is a simple test to determine the father of Claudine’s baby. Under Auradon’s laws of apprenticeship, Hephaestus is able to sign documents in loco parentis for Claudine.”

“Claudine, do you want this test?” Hephaestus asked softly. “If you don’t, I won’t sign the form. I promise you that no matter who the father is, the baby will always have a place in my home and forge.”

Claudine’s smile brightened and she nodded to the doctor, who set up equipment for blood drawing.

“This is sterile, Claudine, so no need to worry about infection,” the doctor said. Tarquinia looked away as the doctor inserted the needle in Claudine’s skin and collected a few drops of blood.

“Alright, Claudine, this is the part that uses magic. We’re going to pour your blood onto this enchanted paper: 15 minutes later, you will know who your baby’s father is.”

Claudine squirmed all through the 15 minutes, looking equally at Hephaestus and at Tarquinia. Meanwhile, Tarquinia couldn’t look at the blood on the paper as it formed letters and numbers. Out of the corner of her eye, Tarquinia saw a C and nearly vomited again.

“Don’t tell anyone, Quin,” Claude Frollo told his daughter as he put his robe back on. “You don’t want everyone to know your sin. And you don’t want this to happen to Claudine, right? Because that’s what’ll happen if you tell.”

“It’s a secret, Papa,” Tarquinia said, her entire body in pain. “Promise.”

“Claudine, I have bad news for you.”

Tarquinia had found out her own pregnancy when she had seen her distended stomach.

“The father of your baby is Claude Frollo himself.”

Tarquinia’s flashback was interrupted by a low, grave voice.

“I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him. He fucking raped his own daughter. I had to HEAR her suffering but I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT IT WAS! Now I know, and I’m sick to my stomach. I’m so sorry, Claudine.”

“And not to mention, what kind of god leaves his daughters to that torment? Daughters, plural, because guess what, congratulations, Imelda Frollo’s father is also Claude Frollo! Oh, also, according to Hera, Tarquinia is pregnant again with that bastard’s baby! I wish I could have taken you both into my home, but Apollo said no!”

Nobody had expected that rant from Hephaestus. The god’s eyes were glowing bright orange. Tarquinia covered her eyes with her hands, trying to avoid the very public reveal that had just happened.

“So, release. You’ll be able to take Claudine home next weekend, Hephaestus. Queen Tiana, I completely understand if you’re unwilling to foster Tarquinia after this realization-“

“No, I am absolutely willing. And I’ll take Imelda too, she deserves good adults in her life. I am not going to abandon this girl because of something that wasn’t her fault. I am taking Tarquinia home as soon as she is medically cleared. No ifs, ands, or buts.” Tiana moved to Tarquinia’s bedside. “Can I touch your hair, kiddo?” Tarquinia nodded and Tiana gently stroked Tarquinia’s hair.

“Do you want me to wash it when we go home?”

Tarquinia’s jaw hit the floor. Wasn’t she supposed to be going to the convent after she was cleared?

“Home?” Tarquinia asked quietly.

“Yes, home. We normally live in the apartment in New Orleans because my restaurant is there.”

“But I thought I’d be going to the convent?” Tarquinia asked, blinking twice.

“Tarquinia, kiddo, do you want to go to the convent? It’s okay to say no. It’s absolutely okay.”

Tarquinia thought back to the day she had been  locked in the convent with Claudine. She had sung at least ten lullabies that day to try to get Claudine to go to sleep. They had adjusted quickly to nun life, but nothing had ever been the same. Now…Tiana was offering a way out of what Tarquinia had been forced into. 

“If I say no, am I damned?” Tarquinia asked quietly. Tiana shook her head.

“No loving god would sentence a kid like you to hell, Tarquinia.”

“Okay, I guess the answer is no? No convent. At least for two months.”

Tiana looked heavenward and smiled, hugging Tarquinia close. The hug was warm and Tarquinia tried her hardest not to flinch.

“Home time?” Tarquinia asked. The doctor nodded his head.

“Tarquinia, you’re free to go as soon as we do a prenatal checkup. That’ll happen in the nurse’s office.”

Tarquinia was silent throughout the entire ride to the nurse’s office: she had been transported in a simple black wheelchair that was cleaner than any of the wheelchairs that could be found on the Isle. 

Tarquinia briefly thought back to Morgana’s son, stuck using a wheelchair that was dirty and didn’t work properly. Mikhail would have given anything to be here in Auradon where he could receive proper support and accommodations for both his good days and his bad days.

Once in the nurse’s office, Tarquinia was directed to sit on a bed that was available. Five minutes later, the doctor came in.

“Are you Sister Maria Tarquinia Frollo?”

“I’m not a Sister anymore. Just Tarquinia,” Tarquinia mumbled.

“Tarquinia, then. Have you had any prenatal care before?” Tarquinia shook her head at the doctor’s question.

“Anastasia Tremaine tried to provide some, but she was quite overworked,” Tarquinia replied. “Plus I was thrown into the convent when Frollo discovered I was pregnant.”

“And…how old are you, Tarquinia?”

“15,” Tarquinia replied honestly.

“Do you know about any medical or family history of diseases? Is anyone in your family a twin or a triplet?” Tarquinia paused a minute before replying.

“I don’t know who my mother is, but Frollo always said Grand-mère had a twin sister.”

“When was your last menstrual period, Tarquinia?” Tarquinia vaguely remembered the words and replied weakly.

“I don’t remember.”

“Do you want the test before we do your ultrasound?” Tarquinia nodded again and the doctor collected a few drops of blood with a sterile needle. He dripped the blood onto the magical paper and Tarquinia watched the letters and numbers form just like they had with her sister’s test.

“Everything looks healthy and normal, Tarquinia. Your age means this pregnancy is high-risk: we will ask you to avoid heavy physical activity. And another thing. Congratulations, Tarquinia Frollo, you’re having twins.”

Chapter Text

Twins.

Tarquinia was having twins.

There would be two babies instead of one.

“I’m sorry, what?” Tarquinia asked, still shocked at the idea.

“You’re having healthy twins. I can’t reveal their sexes until we do an ultrasound, but I am very happy for you.”

“Can we do the ultrasound, please?” Tarquinia asked quietly. “I want to know who I’m carrying.” The doctor set up his equipment.

“Tarquinia, I’m going to need you to remove your habit for this part. I can leave the room so you can change.” The doctor left the room and Tarquinia changed out of her habit into a paper hospital gown. Auradon truly was more methodical than the Isle: Anastasia Tremaine would never have conducted the procedure at all, much less given Tarquinia sterile garments. Hunger skittered across Tarquinia’s stomach as she fought back tears.  

The doctor came back into the room and applied the cold gel to Tarquinia’s stomach. Tarquinia internally cringed at the sensation.

“Okay, I’m going to pass the wand over your belly where the gel is,” the doctor explained gently. He turned on the machine and began to move the wand over Tarquinia’s stomach. Slowly, an image appeared on the screen. 

“That’s your twins, Tarquinia,” the doctor whispered, pointing the images out. “One healthy boy and one healthy girl.”

A boy?

Tarquinia squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring the pounding of her heart. She was having a baby boy. Imelda would have a brother.

Gaston was the main predator on the Isle: Tarquinia knew many girls whom he had made into teen mothers. But Frollo came in a close second. He couldn’t be satisfied with the daughters he had so he went after women who could give him sons to twist into his fanatics. 

Now Tarquinia was about to have a boy. She clasped her hands and silently prayed to the Virgin Mary and Saint Anne that her son would never have to meet his father.

The doctor finished passing the wand over Tarquinia’s stomach.

“Congratulations, Tarquinia. Your next appointment will be in four weeks.” The doctor left, and Tarquinia put on her habit again. She would need to find some secular clothes to replace it. Whoever her mère had been, maybe Tarquinia would wear her colors. Tarquinia walked out of the room, head bowed.

Before bumping into two boys walking together.

“I’m so sorry,” Tarquinia gasped. “Are you hurt?”

One of the boys shook his head. He had beautiful brown skin and red eyes that sparkled in Auradon’s light.

“Not at all, Sister,” he told Tarquinia. “In fact, we were looking for you. Lord Sandhya Vasiliou, son of Shiva and grandson of Hecate.”

“And I’m King Ben of Auradon,” the white boy with Sandhya replied. “Son of Queen Belle of Auradon and King Adam of Auradon. Pronouns are he/him. Sandhya here is your roommate.” As Ben talked, Tarquinia found herself staring into his eyes. They were gorgeous, innocent brown orbs that could only be seen on a select few prisoners back home. They walked together, and Tarquinia tried to distract herself from Ben’s eyes.

“We didn’t know your colors, so we went with Sandhya’s colors to organize the room.” Ben opened a door marked “245.”

The first thing Tarquinia saw were the two grand beds. One of the beds was adorned with black sheets and a deep green duvet. A blue decorative pillow sat in between two black-covered pillows at the head of the bed. The adjacent desk was made out of black wood. The other side of the room was nearly symmetrical except for the presence of an empty closet in lieu of Sandhya’s full closet. A black wood crib sat next to the other bed.

And for a minute, it felt like Tarquinia’s soul sang.

Ben had given Imelda a home too. Her baby wouldn’t be alone.

“The doctor informed me of your twins,” Ben whispered to Tarquinia. “While I admit a pregnant student is a rarity here, we will provide for the babies. You will not be sent home.” Ben stood up tall and left the room, leaving Sandhya and Tarquinia alone. 

“So, roommate get to know you. What’s your full name?” Sandhya asked, smiling.

“Maria Tarquinia Frollo,” Tarquinia replied, trying to make eye contact with the older boy. She could see Sandhya wince.

“Ah, that explains the clothes. Dress or suit?”

“Dress, but I’d like to have a suit soon,” Tarquinia replied. “Is that possible?”

“Yeah, you just have to get measured. Auradon’s tailors are pretty accepting. But they’re also pretty annoying, and making you stand still is their personal form of torment,” Sandhya laughed. “I’m trans myself. Pronouns are he/she/they as well as some neopronouns, and I’m fine with being called a boy or other masculine or gender-neutral terms.”

“Uh…my pronouns are she/her, please,” Tarquinia provided. “You can call me a girl, or use feminine terms for me.”

“Great,” Sandhya smiled. “All of Auradon Prep’s buildings are for all genders, so you don’t have to worry about accidentally entering the boys’ dorm or something. Bathrooms are usually gender-separated. There’s two sets of bathrooms on every floor: one boys’, one girls’, and one gender-neutral room per set.”

Tarquinia took stock of her new roommate. He wore a black suit with no rips or tears. Underneath the suit was an emerald button-down shirt. He had taken off his shoes at the entrance of the dorm, revealing socks that matched his suit.

He looked comfortable. At home in his own skin. Tarquinia looked at her own feet, clad in sandals. Slowly, she padded toward the door and slid her feet out of the simple shoes. Sandhya glanced at Tarquinia questioningly.

“What did you do that for?”

“You did it, so…”

“Yeah, Amma doesn’t allow me into her home or grove with shoes on. Maman’s a different sort, though. They’re chill.”

Tarquinia closed her mouth and didn’t talk further. Sandhya shrugged. 

“Okay, how long? What type of dress? I’m a bit of a nerd,” Sandhya asked Tarquinia. Tarquinia indicated the length she wanted: just below her knees, not unlike something Yzla would have worn on the Isle. Sandhya handed Tarquinia a purple dress and a green dress. Tarquinia hesitated a moment then remembered the moment when her soul sang. She ran her hands along the purple dress and took it gently from Sandhya’s grasp.

“You’re favoring your mamá already? Tricky child,” Sandhya mused. Tarquinia’s jaw dropped.

“My mamá? You knew my mother? Who was she? Is she alive? Is she okay?” The questions tumbled out of Tarquinia’s mouth, the 15-year-old temporarily forgetting everything Frollo had “taught” her about silence.

“I wish the bastard had told you earlier, and there’s no easy way to tell you this. Nine months before you were born, Frollo raped Doña Yzma.”

Chapter Text

Tarquinia’s world felt like it had gone completely topsy-turvy in the past few hours. She had gone to Auradon, discovered that both she and her sister were pregnant, learned she was having twins, and now she knew the identity of her lost mamá.

Was she Claudine’s mamá too? Doña Yzma, who was one of the most repentant villains on the Isle. Doña Yzma, who always stocked healing potions and meal replacement potions for those who needed them. Doña Yzma, who had allowed her daughter to join the Medics at the age of 3. 

Tarquinia wished Doña Yzma had a twin or someone who shared her name. The kind older woman didn’t deserve that torment. Tarquinia mentally prayed an Ave Maria for Doña Yzma.

“What did I get from her?” Tarquinia asked. “Magic? Maybe a name?”

“Shiva’s powers only allow me to see so far. But those wings are definitely an inheritance from Doña Yzma,” Sandhya explained. “You also aren’t white. That in and of itself is a major tell. There aren’t many of us in Auradon Prep, so having you is a welcome change.”

“Why is Claudine white and I’m not?” Tarquinia blurted out, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to preserve her modesty.

“Mainly because her maman’s an Isle prostitute and your mamá’s Doña Yzma.”

Tarquinia’s stomach lurched. Frollo had solicited a whore? Frollo had always leered at whores on the streets of the Isle before. He had tried to convert them, preached about St. Mary Magdalene to them. To learn that he had solicited one and created a child with her made Tarquinia’s blood boil.

Tarquinia had never been proud of her father but this realization had thrown her opinion of him out the window. 

“Sandhya, who is Claudine’s mother?” Tarquinia asked softly, suppressing her anger for a moment.

“Claudine’s mother is Laurette LeClerc,” Sandhya calmly replied. “Doña Yzma didn’t know. At this moment, only you, Frollo, and I know.” Sandhya bit his lip and Tarquinia watched as he swallowed a bead of red blood. “I’ll know more at my Induction, I promise. But for now, I have to see the registrar to talk about my Symbols and Rituals class.” Sandhya put on his shoes and left the room, leaving Tarquinia alone. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Tarquinia spotted a blue something on her desk. Sandhya’s desk lay empty. Tarquinia approached the desk: the blue something was a folder. Tarquinia opened the folder.

The first page was her schedule. Auradon had apparently automatically signed Tarquinia up for Chemistry, History of Auradon, Auradonian Literature, Manners and Decorum, and Algebra 1. There were three blank spaces in Tarquinia’s schedule: Tarquinia blinked, trying to take in the excess of it all.

On the Isle, she had learned one thing: how to get to Heaven when she died. Here, she was going to be taught so much more, subjects that almost seemed to be the exact opposite of what Frollo had taught her. There was Chemistry and Algebra and even a class listed on the elective list that would help her learn to harness her magic! 

Tarquinia picked up the accompanying pen. In the first blank space, she wrote “Biology.” In the second blank space, she wrote “Choir.” Before she could write in the third blank space, she hesitated. The Religion class hovered by her eyes, but her eyes were equally drawn to the Potion Magic 101 class.

Her mamá had been a potioneer, right? Tarquinia picked up her pen, but before it hit the paper, she heard a voice in her head.

I am the Lord your God. Thou shalt not have other gods before me.

Then a fainter voice, less familiar.

Seize your destiny, mija.

Tarquinia blinked back tears. The pen clattered onto the desk, making a sudden noise. Then, a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Tarquinia sniffled. It was King Ben, dressed in a blue suit. He was holding Imelda.

“Hey,” King Ben said, making straight eye contact with the distraught girl. “You doing alright?”

“Just having trouble picking classes,” Tarquinia said, forcing a small smile.

“I, uh. I wanted to talk to you about your heritage.”

The other shoe had dropped. Tarquinia held her hands beneath her scapular and looked at the ground.

“Tarquinia-“

“I know that my mamá is Doña Yzma, King Ben. It’s okay.”

“Infanta Marisol wanted to speak to you for her class project, actually,” Ben sheepishly mumbled before clearing his throat and repeating the words in a stronger tone. Tarquinia’s face heated up and she looked at the ground. “Her class is doing a project on their families’ villains, and she’s studying Yzma. New Peru’s a nice place, I promise. Your interview is next week.” Tarquinia nodded numbly. Why did those eyes have to be so beautiful? 

“And you can bring Imelda too, Malina’s excited to meet the kid.” Tarquinia smiled at Ben and nodded again. Ben handed Tarquinia her sleeping daughter. Tarquinia stood up and put Imelda down in the crib. She had been changed into a purple onesie with a pair of wings on the front. There was more purple in her hair than there had previously been. Tarquinia giggled.

“Her first birthday is in January,” Tarquinia told Ben. “It’s September, right?” Ben nodded. “So she’s about 7 months old. And I’m about 19 weeks pregnant, according to my test results. Who will watch her when I’m in class? And how can I feed her?”

“There’s a room for you to breastfeed next to your Algebra classroom. And you can ask any of the cafeteria waiters for baby food and they’ll deliver it.”

“Thank you, Ben…” Tarquinia extended her hand for Ben to shake, looking down at the floor. Ben took the hand and shook. It was a King’s handshake, warm and firm and reassuring.

“No problem.”