Hello, everybody! I'm back... after a month and a half of nothing. I was a little caught up with school (so many assignments...) and Nanowrimo. The next update might take a while as well, as my exams are coming closer and I need to start focusing on those. Anyway, in other news, I'm done with the outline for the sequel, which means it will soon (probably the end of January, though) be published on this site. But, until then, you've still got these one-shots. Enjoy!

-Writer207

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…

Judge Claude Frollo lay in his bed, hands clasped together, staring at the ceiling. If anyone would have come in, they may have thought he had died in the middle of the prayer. He barely blinked, staring not at the ceiling, but at his Father in Heaven, somewhere up high, someplace that could not be seen with the bare eye.

The judge hesitated. He tightened the grip on his hands and took a deep breath. It almost caused him to cough. He had to do this. There was not much time left.

He prayed in silence; his voice wasn't the best anymore. He did not pray for anything. He was too weak to go to the church in Sanctuary, so he had to confess from his bed.

He remembered climbing on the roof of the Notre Dame. He remembered trying to kill the gypsy and the monstrosity he raised. He remembered falling into the fire, the flames consuming him.

When he took his first breath after these events, he thought of it as a miracle. God spared him; God told him to live a little while longer. However, it soon became clear that this miracle was no miracle at all. It was a punishment.

He lived, but he was trapped. One small island, filled with the dirtiest of people and the worst of man he had ever witnessed. These men and women, they were godless. They were heathens, barbarians. He often wondered what purpose he served to be on that island, for did he not belong on the mainland? Were these people not considerably worse than him?

No, they were not. They had sinned and committed crimes, just as he had done. It was no miracle, but the work of God nonetheless: the Lord had given him a mirror. There was more than enough time to think about their behavior and stories as well as his own. He came to realize he was no better than them. He had killed people just as mercilessly as Cruella had killed puppies. He had manipulated a young man the same way Gothel used Rapunzel. While he thought he was a saint, he definitely had not acted like one.

Satan must have sent a demon, Frollo thought. That, or Satan himself manipulated him. He blamed them, but that did not stop him from blaming himself, too. While Satan had encouraged him to do certain things, Frollo did not need to have listened to him. Yet, he acted nonetheless. Satan must have given him those awful thoughts. For who else would have been able to compel the fair judge to lust after a gypsy woman?

When those scoundrels got off of the island, Frollo followed. He was present when they drew the map of a new Auradon. On his request, they did not give him as vast a territory as the others. But there was a little piece of land that did belong to him – you could fit Paris times four into that piece of land. He left the heathens as soon as he knew where to go. He thanked God for this opportunity

But He was not done testing him. When Frollo arrived, the people were scared. They feared him. for the first time, he felt pity for them. They had to have a God to turn to, but theirs seemed to have abandoned them. That, or He was testing them all.

Frollo helped built a church in the middle of the small village. It was a small, wooden thing. It was nothing compared to the glorious Notre Dame, but it was more than enough for these people. He read them from the Bible, he helped them whenever he could. He pushed aside any prejudices he held before and helped anyone that needed it. He lived without sinning – he had not known what kind of feeling that was!

After the first year without sin, people started to come there. They stayed around for some days, enjoyed the help and sanctuary from the judge. Some continued their travels, others settled in the town.

The town grew into a village, which in turn became a city. It needed a name, for it had been nameless before. He asked the locals to pick a name, for they had lived here longer than he had and might have better ideas than him. The vote was near unanimous: they officially lived in Sanctuary.

Travelers kept coming. One of them was a wizard. The old man did not want to share his name with anyone, but after he left, Sanctuary was protected by magic. In the words of said old man, "no man that means to bring harm to Sanctuary will be able to enter."

In the meantime, Judge Frollo had grown old and weary as well. He grew ill and when he was sick, it took longer for him to recover. He started to show up less and less in public. He missed the third and fourth mayor election – he could not get out of bed at that time. Three months ago, he contracted a fever. He still lay in his bed, unable to get up. Any movement hurt him. He was getting weaker with each passing week, day, hour. God was calling him, and Frollo could not say no.

So he clasped his hands together and confessed. He did not have long anymore, for soon he would be gone, leaving one life and moving on to the next.

Father, he concluded his confession. I am not worthy of Heaven, but I will await your judgment.

Going to Heaven had always been his ultimate goal. That was something he worked towards all of his life. Hell had always been a good motivator: if you don't sin too much – because man will inevitably sin – you don't have to go there. Going to Hell could happen still, but thinking back on all the sins he's committed in his previous life, Heaven seemed to be out of the question.

Luckily, there was one other place he could go to. There always was Purgatory, the place between Heaven and Hell. Not as atrocious as Hell would be, but not as bright as Heaven. Not a permanent stop – that was where people who sinned and regretted it could be purged before moving on to Heaven eventually. The time spent there depended on how big the sins were, but everyone eventually made it to Heaven.

Frollo believed he would have to spend an eternity in Purgatory if God decided he didn't belong in Hell. He once was the most sinful man in Paris and feared that God's forgiveness may not apply to his past life. He would not dare to complain once he reached Purgatory – he would have deserved it, and he planned to spent his time there praying and helping lost souls who would reach Heaven before he could. Maybe he'd never get to see Heaven after all, but this place in between would be more than enough. He trusted the Lord's judgment – He would make the right choice, and Frollo would accept His decision.

The door creaked as it opened. A young woman entered the room. A smile appeared on Frollo's face. Sophie had been only thirteen when Frollo had taken her in seven years ago. A young orphan, having resorted to stealing to survive, he had made sure she would never have to steal again. Spending time on the island had opened his eyes, had shown him he had been a bad father. In her hands, she had a glass of water. She placed it on the small table beside his bed.

"Is there anything else you need?" she asked him. Frollo nodded.

"Come closer, my child." She obeyed, sat down next to the bed and took his hand.

She was beautiful. Her fierceness and kindness reminded him strongly of the woman he once lusted after. He had long turned his back to that lust, of which the memory now filled him with hate. But he had since righted his wrongs and repented.

"What is it, father?" Sophie asked him. She sensed something was wrong. Clever girl.

"Listen carefully," Frollo said. "You are smart and just and kind. You are a good person, and there are few of those these days. The people of Sanctuary need a person like you."

Sophie's eyes widened – she realized what her adoptive father was trying to tell her. Yet, she did not interrupt him.

"I am old," he continued, "and will soon be gone. I feel my strength fading as we speak. Sophie, Sanctuary needs a protector. Sanctuary needs you."

Sophie had started to shake her head. She could not make peace with the judge dying. she fought back the tears. "You can't go," Sophie said, "Not now, not when there is still so much to do."

Frollo smiled again. "God works in mysterious ways. You will lead these lost souls, Sophie. You are more than capable."

"I don't want to do it without you." His grip on her hand tightened.

"I will watch over you," he responded. "And if I cannot, then the angels will. You can do this." Sophie got tongue-tied and only nodded. A single tear rolled over her cheek.

"I love you, father," she said.

"I love you too," he responded. It was barely more than a whisper. He could not speak any louder – the conversation had taken its toll. "Prepare the bells. They will ring tonight."

Sophie nodded and finally walked away. She was slow and glanced back many times, as if that would be the last time she would see him alive. Frollo hoped this wasn't the case, but he had no control of when God would let him pass away.

The judge closed his eyes. Sophie was the right choice – she would protect the people of Sanctuary just like he had always protected them. He had given his blessing to the child and he was ready for God to take him to Purgatory.

The bells of the new Notre Dame rang when judge Claude Frollo passed away that evening.