Notes: I have returned to fic writing~! After I posted the prologue of "Elegy," an unexpected situation and other life issues made me struggle to keep writing during the rest of 2009. However I now have some fresh ideas in my head and hopefully I will post Chapter 1 of "Elegy" soon. Sorry for the long wait. m(__)m

I got the idea for this oneshot fic from a piece of HoND concept art done at Disney that appeared in "The Art of HoND." It's a picture of what appears to be Frollo's study at the Palace of Justice. When I saw that picture I thought "how great would it be if there was a scene in this room?" and so I decided to write a fanfic taking place in it. I also got inspiration from the German musical of HoND and from the book for this fic. Basically think of this fic as happening while Quasi sings "Heaven's Light" - it's like a lead-in to the "Hellfire" scene.

Enjoy!

Every moment, every instant, every hour that could be better spent working or praying...all of it was wasted on thinking about her. Ever since the fiasco that was the Festival of Fools (more so than usual, Frollo thought), lustful, tempting thoughts of that gypsy girl, that dancing witch, that heathen Esmeralda were the only things on his mind.

Even when Claude Frollo had lectured Quasimodo in the bell tower after the latter had exposed himself as the King of Fools and walked into the cathedral in shame after being caught, he couldn't stop thinking about her. As he intoned harshly on Quasimodo's "shameful appearance" and how he "must never go into the outside world ever again, for you are a shameful creature and I alone can protect you," Claude thought about how Esmeralda had brazenly freed his ward from the wheel of torture he had been tied upon, how infuriated he was...and how beautiful she had looked at that moment. How he wanted to capture her and tame her...This feeling had only intensified even more when he had had her trapped in the cathedral, and had gotten himself so close to her. "I was just imagining a rope around that beautiful neck," Frollo had said then, and indeed, he could picture it now. Esmeralda would beg for mercy as the rope got tighter and tighter, and eventually have no choice but to submit to Frollo if she wanted to live. These thoughts titillated him, and yet disturbed him, for Frollo had been struggling to keep these licentious thoughts buried all his life.

In hopes that he might find some solace and ease his troubled mind, Frollo returned to the Palace of Justice for the night. Nervous greetings of "Good evening, Minister Frollo" and "How are you, Judge Frollo?" were said by every servant and soldier who passed him. Cries of prisoners being tortured echoed throughout the Palace as Frollo made his way to the study.

The study was a rather small room. The wall was sparsely decorated with various coats-of-arms indicating Frollo's official position as Minister of Justice. A large cabinet stood below the coats-of-arms, and a small, narrow table with a stack of books, a candlestick and a larger book and quill pen was placed before it. Gigantic windows to the right of the furniture and coats-of-arms gave a sweeping view of the Paris streets, with a huge red curtain tied off to the side. Near the door was a smaller cabinet with a vase holding a purple flower.

Frollo immediately sat down, picked up the big book on the table, placed it on its own stand and opened it. It was a journal that he wrote all his daily activities in: transcripts of court cases he had overseen, quotes from the Bible or from his other books that he found inspiring, the number of gypsies he had captured today, mentions of Quasimodo...everything all written in perfect Latin. He picked up the quill pen, turned to a fresh page and began to write.

Year of Our Lord 1482, 6th January. Ate breakfast with Quasimodo today. Thing was insistent on going to the Festival of Fools; I denied him permission as always, yet the thing disobeyed me. Met the new Captain of the Guard today, Phoebus de Châteaupers he is called; as is my duty he and I both went to the Festival. Saw copious amounts of sin and debauchery; most notably from a young gypsy dancer who is called La Esmeralda...

Frollo's heart began to race upon writing those words. La Esmeralda...the words sounded as though they were a spell, a black magic curse cast upon him. He thought with all his might to think of God, think of the saints, think of anything other than her, but he could not do it.

All his life he had fought to suppress these feelings, these sinful feelings of desire...and it seemed as though he would fail. "Forgive me, Father..." he thought to himself.

Claude Frollo's family was a very devout one. His father, Gerard, never allowed the family to skip church on Sunday or on important feast days, and would pray frequently for everything. Most of all, he dreamed that his eldest son would become a priest, and thus become even closer to God. Gerard made both Claude and his younger brother Jehan study as much as possible, and Claude in particular took to his studies. He was able to memorize much of the Bible at a young age and paid great attention to studying his Latin and Greek, unlike Jehan who would never complete anything on time and go out and play pranks instead.

Whenever the three of them would be out in the streets of Paris, Gerard would point out those citizens who he deemed sinful - the drunken ones, the whores, the vain ones, the ones who cursed - and say to Claude and Jehan, "Look at these people. The devil has tempted them into sinning. Everywhere in this city, there are demons waiting to prey on you, and you must never, ever fall into their trap -" - and then, looking at Claude, he would say "Especially you - for you must offer your life, all your desires, to God. This is the path He has chosen for you, Claude, and you must never stray from it. You must never dirty yourself, and stay pure for Him so that you may be accepted into the life of the Church." Claude never forgot this, and when he became older and his body was changing, he would stay all day in his room reading and studying. When he went out he would avoid the opposite sex altogether. Whenever he had a single thought that could be deemed sexual, he would flog himself raw until the thoughts exited his mind. More than once, he had felt the urge to pleasure himself, and at those times he would flog himself even harder, crying out to God, to Jesus, to all the saints until finally, the demon had been erased from his mind.

Time passed and Claude had been accepted into the University, where he studied even harder and spent most of his time alone. When he was in the city he noticed the sinfulness of the other townspeople even more - especially gypsies. To Gerard the very existence of gypsies was a sin; he had taught his sons not to interact with them. "They are thieves, and practice black magic. Their dancing stirs up perverted thoughts and they consort with demons," he had said to Claude many times. The number of gypsies had increased dramatically, and although they had been driven out many times, they always seemed to come back. He wanted to find a way to stop it. "Paris has become sick with vulgarity," Claude said to himself, "and I must cure it!"

And so, Claude Frollo decided to become Minister of Justice.

Gerard had been furious with him at first. "Claude, are you out of your mind! That is not the path that God has chosen for you! You must serve Him directly, that is your destiny. Jehan has been enough of a disappointment to me, but now you too?"

"You do not understand, Father. By becoming Minister of Justice, I can tackle the corruption and sins of the people of Paris much more effectively. I have prayed constantly before making this decision and it appears I am still in God's favor. He has chosen me to cleanse Paris by my own hands - and I shall do so."

Gerard thought this over for a few minutes, and finally said, "I approve, then. I wish you good luck."

"Thank you, Father," Claude said as he left his home.

"Father, please, forgive me. It is not my fault, it is hers. I have succumbed to the abyss and I fear I shall not get out," Claude mumbled as he continued to write in his journal. Now the pages were filled with scrawlings of one phrase:

She must burn.

Frollo maddeningly wrote this phrase over and over again in French, Latin and Greek. His heart continued to thump excessively and his mind was still filled with thoughts of Esmeralda. He felt like he was about to explode. Finally, he got up, slammed the journal shut, threw down the quill pen and took a few deep breaths. What had come over him?

Being in this dark, cramped room was not helping him recover. He must find a calmer place - a large space to pray.

The fireplace, perhaps.

Frollo walked out of the study and told the nearest servant, "Go to the fireplace and light it at once."

"Yes, Minister Frollo," the servant said.

"Thank you. I need some time to pray..."

The End