Frollo's room in the Palace of Justice was sparsely furnished, as was typical of a minister's. The only elaborate piece was the gold-encrusted cross that was placed upon an alter near the door. The Book was placed beside the cross, thick leather making up the worn bindings. Mary's portrait hung above the alter, with Rosary beads strung up beside her. Various candles, as well as a bit of incense burned, casting shadows on Her face.
Frollo was drawn to her eyes. In the light of day, the blue depths always appeared to be full of love and forgiveness. However, when darkness fell, they only seemed to hold damning hatred, and red hot accusations. Even when he rolled over on his pallet, he felt Her eyes burning into his soul.
He laid there for what felt like an excruciatingly long time, though really, it was hardly any time at all. When the intensity of Her imagined glare became too much for him, he rolled out of his bed, crawling over to the alter.
"Leave me be!" he exclaimed, stooping submissively at Her proverbial feet. "Haunt me no longer! I atone for my sins with every breath I take!"
He continued bowing, whispering desperate prayers under his breath. Eventually he paused in his begging for forgiveness and mercy, sitting up and wiping the tears from his face.
Wordlessly he climbed to his feet making his way to the alter. He pulled out a drawer, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside was a strange item; it had several knotted ropes attached to a thick cudgel-like piece of wood. Dark flecks stained the ropes in various places as well.
The instrument had an ominous and foreboding air about it. Frollo handled it carefully, as he lifted it from the hole it had been residing in. His eyes were carefully shadowed, though that did little to hide the emotions swiveling in their depths. It was quite apparent he was both fearful and hungry for what was to come.
He unbuttoned his night shirt one-handedly, allowing the dark material to slide of his bony shoulders, pooling at his feet.
Frollo paused briefly, his fingers tracing the worn marks on the handle of the device, before he looked up, his eyes burning into Mary's.
"Forgive me for my sins," he begged quietly. "Have mercy on my soul."
His movement was abrupt, the whips cutting through the air, cracking on his back. Immediately, Frollo's bottom lip found itself being ground bloody between his teeth. A low whimper vibrated in his throat, as he lifted his arm again, letting the whips crack on his back, again and again.
He lost count of the amount of times the ropes came in contact with his back. By the end of the ordeal, he was openly moaning in pain and ecstasy, with blood running down his back and legs in rivets.
The whip dropped from his hand, hitting the ground solidly. Frollo followed soon after, his eyes glazed and sweat staining his brow.
He raised his eyes, mustering up an echo of a smile, as he whispered to Mary, "With...every breath I take..."
He fell unconscious, then, so he was unable to see the ghost-like crystalline tear run down the portrait's face.
A/N Frollo reminds me of Silas from "The DaVinci Code" so freaking much! He just...oozes angst and suffering.
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