The Servant of Judge Frollo

The Broken Judge

   Frollo stumbled back into his room, unsure of the time or even the day, numbly lying down, staring at the ceiling above. His face was tear-stained and eyes swimming in guilt and grief as pure reality fell upon him. Healia, he'd killed her, he'd murdered the little girl from his past. The little girl that had washed his clothes and read to him and tended to him when ill, the girl that had melted his heart of ice. And what had he done in return? Tied her to a stake and set her on fire. In all her innocence he'd blindly only seen sin. Where there had been light his eyes had sought the smallest sliver of darkness and expanded it with desperation. A wild desperation to find a reason why he was doing all this to her to try and clear his conscious. And he'd denied her a dying wish, the wish to read before going to heaven. Like the selfish, greedy, desperate, hopelessly in love hypocrite he was he'd denied her the smallest thing!!! Not once had she begged for freedom down there, she had not screamed and cursed and spat at him like other prisoners, she had spoken to him kindly and laughed and smiled, as if he had decided to visit her at home instead of a dungeon. She had made him want to laugh and grin, like a foolish adolescence who had fallen in love. No other woman or man could work such magic upon him. Not even Esmeralda, she had merely set off his body, reminding him that no matter how immortal he claimed himself to be he still was a man with needs and desires. But Healia had shown him what it was like to fall into love and never want to get out, to love someone for more than their body. For the first time in his life he'd found himself accepting his greatest fear, death, that death would come but he would be happy by the time it happened. A surge of adrenaline and fury shot through his body, blood boiling like hot water in his veins, as Healia had burned what had he done? Nothing, he hadn't even had the courage to look her in the eye the entire time! With a snarl he gave his desk a hard kick, causing it to topple and papers to go flying, the nightstand was next and he threw at the wall in a fit of rage. He was a stupid, stupid fool for letting that torch drop, for killing her, Healia, the Healia that had not once shown him any reason to hurt her! Each time he threw something he called himself another bad name. The goblet with his evening drink went flying with a snarled, "SIMPLETON!" Then the book he'd been reading at night with a furious, "SELFISH, GREEDY IDIOT!" And when he sent his candle flying he screamed wildly, "FRAUGHT, HALF-WITTED, STUPID DOLT NOT WORTHY OF A SINGLE PRIVILEGE YOU HOLD!!!!" He suddenly grasped her book and was ready to throw it when he froze, realizing what it was. He was wheezing heavily, body still on the rush of adrenaline, blood rushing through him. His chambers were a mess, not like he cared. He gripped the book tightly, knuckles white and eyes burning with tears. His fault, all his fault. With a jerky movement he lay the book on his pillow and but froze as a gentle giggling came to his ears. It was a sweet little sound, trying to be muffled as if it wasn't meant to happen. Only one woman he knew giggled so beautifully. Spinning he found...Healia? Healia! He found her standing here in a timid sort of pose, as if not sure whether to take another step to him in this raving lunatic form. She was still dressed in the white shift the guards had left her in and it went right above her knees, causing her to tug it down, as if shy about how short it was. But it seemed coy as well, like she was teasing him. Barefoot he looked in awe at her face, golden eyes glowing as her ruby lips formed a gentle smile so beautiful he felt ready to burst into tears. Her scent of nature and earth floated to him and he took a ragged breath, mouth agape going to a weak smile. Stumbling up to her he fell upon his knees, hands clasped as if in prayer before his gypsy saint, tears rushing hot and fast. His frame shook as he sobbed, "Healia, Healia I'm sorry, I'm sorry for all my crimes against your people, but most of all you. I never wanted to hurt you and you never gave me a reason to. I was blind and stupid and atrocious to hurt the woman I care about. And that is you, please, please Healia, forgive me, forgive me for my crimes. I love you Healia, and I was a fool to try and think otherwise. Please." She gave a sigh but did not speak. He looked up at her, cheeks wet with new tears and anguish. She offered a hand to him and he reached for it slowly...only for her to disappear. He stared in shock as he realized it had been an illusion, merely a hallucination. With a wail of agony he rummaged in his knocked over nightstand and grasped a slender dagger, lifting it to his throat. One movement, one swift movement he'd die and go to Hell and burn for an eternity like he deserved. Here he was unpunished and free to do as he chose, but down there he'd pay for all he did, and he wanted to atone for his sins, all of them. Let the Devil torture him until he was a withered skeleton, all he wanted was the end this cruel existence. But as the knife came closer to his Adam apple he felt his hand shake, gripping the dagger tightly. He stared at the ceiling above. "Go on," He hissed to the sky, "Let your godliness and power kill me, let me slit my throat and go to Hell, I deserve it. I deserve anything the Devil gives me. I want all the suffering to befall me that I have placed upon others, do it." Yet still his hand, trembling like a leaf, would not do the ultimate sin, it would not make a clean cut and let him die. Finally he let the blade drop and it clattered to the floor. He hunched over, staring at the blade with hatred. "Coward" He snarled, as if it was the dagger's fault he could not kill himself. He sat on his knees for hours, staring at the weapon as he silently begged God to let him die, to strike him down, anything. However by the time a hesitant Phoebus came to check on his master, finding to his shock a pale, weak, red eyed figure hunched in the middle of his chambers, a dagger before him and a havoc around him. Phoebus felt his jaw drop and Frollo threw him a venomous look. "What?" He hissed viciously. Phoebus tried to look away from his boss in such a...sight, goodness had the man gone mad? Phoebus gave a cough, still unable to take his eyes off him.

"Just awaiting your orders sir, there is still the ashes to clean and the pyre..." Frollo froze and stood up straight.

"My orders are get the ashes of the gypsy, put them in a vase and I want to contact the stone mason, now." Frollo said hoarsely. Phoebus gave him a look of astonishment, he didn't mean he was going to, bury the remains was he? Frollo narrowed his eyes. "Well captain, I've given my orders, isn't it your job to carry them out?" Phoebus swiftly nodded and walked out, leaving the broken judge to himself.