Horatio wandered the dark hallways wordlessly, his boots the only slight indicator of his presence. He clung to the shadows, avoiding any and all torch light as he crept towards his final destination.
He had fervently stayed at Lady Sabina's side for the duration of the evening, answering questions and adding to conversation as was needed, laughing and agreeing as was proper. He fetched drinks, complimented gowns, and politely stepped aside when the lady was asked to dance. It filled him with a deep sense of relief when she had finally announced she would be retiring for the night, and he could step out into the stone halls alone. Events such as these made him grateful for his simple rank of physician.
Now, as he slowly weaved through the halls, silence seemed to be his only current companion. That is, until he felt a fervent tug at his wrist and found his eyes sparkling in the firelight.
"You came."
"I said I would."
The prince dragged him into his chambers, locking the door behind them before wrapping his arms tightly around Horatio, burying his face into his neck. Horatio gave a small, quiet laugh as he picked up Hamlet gently. The prince took it as the perfect opportunity to greedily wrap his legs around the physician and squeeze more.
"I missed you. Wittenberg has not been the same in your absence. Now, the only thing to ever do it seems is to study."
"How horrible, a school forcing studies upon you?"
Hamlet lightly smacked Horatio's back, to which the doctor responded with a kiss to his temple. His lips lingered at the spot and he closed his eyes. This hardly felt real.
"I have missed you as well. I feel quite out of my element here, and being unable to talk about any of it with is far more difficult than what you promised it would be."
"I am here now."
"For how long?" Hamlet froze beneath his fingers.
"I don't know yet." He whispered.
Horatio gingerly put the prince back on his feet, but instead of stepping away, Hamlet dragged him to his bed. It felt strange, watching instead of helping a prince to remove his boots. He thought he would be used to it by now. Perhaps, he mused, court life had only reaffirmed the horrible habits of decorum Hamlet hated so much.
"How are you?" Hamlet asked. Horatio had hardly noticed the prince once again staring at him.
"Overwhelmed. I did not think you would be returning today. Your letter said at the end of the trimester, and yet here you are."
"I realized I was choosing studies over seeing you and I changed my mind." Hamlet threw a devilish smile at him and began to pepper kisses around the physician's face.
This was a trait that had not parished in their absence then. At school, in company, they were fast and fierce friends, both stubborn, competitive. They would talk to each other for hours and hours, fueled by nothing more than the joy of conversation with one another. The second they were alone, however, Hamlet had a tendency to drop speech all together, and instead lean towards a more physical means of communication. Yet, even with this knowledge, Horatio's heart still began to pound violently and a deep blush began to bloom on his cheeks as Hamlet laid him back.
Time slipped away, rushing like sand out of their fingers. One moment, the fire burned brightly, illuminating the whole room in its warm, flickering light, making it easy to see the detailing on Hamlet's clothes. Then next, the flames had been reduced to mere embers, the details of Hamlet's skin were near impossible to see. They both laid quietly, tangled in each other's embrace, covered in the comforters, with Hamlet whispering sweet nothings.
"Hamlet," Horatio began softly.
"No, don't start that." The prince sighed, parting away from him just enough so he could glare into Horatio's eyes.
"Start what?"
"Don't say my name like that, like you have something important to tell me."
"I do have something important to tell you." Horatio tried his best not to smile.
"Can it wait?" Hamlet quietly moaned.
"If it could, I wouldn't be speaking of it now." Their gaze lingered on one another for a moment longer before Hamlet sighed, and continued to dutifully kiss at Horatio's shoulder and whisper:"What's wrong?"
"There's a rumor going around the castle as of late. The soldiers won't stop pestering me about it."
"Rumors of?" Hamlet trailed off.
"They say that there is a ghost that haunts the barracks at night. The ghost of your father to be exact."
"Of course there is," Hamlet exacerbated, "Why wouldn't there be? Have you seen the ghost?"
"No, I agreed to tomorrow, but I wanted your opinion on the matter." Horatio was silent for a moment, holding him closer. "What would you have me do?"
"Horatio, I'm not your prince, you may do as you please."
"No, but you are my lover, which some may argue is more pertinent to the conversation."
A long silence was Horatio's only answer for what felt like minutes. Eventually, however, Hamlet responded after a moment of deep thought with: "If you are up for it, I would appreciate it if you could see what the commotion about it all is. I'm sure the rumors are all ridiculous, but I'd rather listen than disregard."
"Whatever you wish, but, Hamlet, you should sleep," Horatio whispered, gently combing his fingers through Hamlet's blonde hair.
"But you won't be here when I wake up. This will have been nothing but a dream." The prince quietly sighed.
"The sweetest dream, and in the morning I will still be here, following you as you wish me to. I'd follow you anywhere."
"Anywhere?"
"I came here, did I not?" Horatio kissed the prince's shoulder.
"You did, and what's more is that you stayed."
"Until you ask me not to."
"Then stay in bed with me."
"And have the servants find me naked in your arms? I think not."
"Stay until I fall asleep."
"That I can do."
Horatio could hardly give what time it was, or how long it took for Hamlet to finally begin to drift into slumber. Yet as soon as Hamlet was asleep his whole body seemed to sigh with relief. He had always been an insomniac, but it was as Horatio had worried. In his absence it had only worsened it seemed.
Slowly, Horatio rose from the bed, slipped his clothes on, and added wood to the fire before planting one last parting kiss into Hamlet's hair. He stole away into the shadows, using the servants passage to make his way quickly and quietly down to the soldiers quarters. Hamlet was right, the entirety of the past few hours felt closer to a severe hallucination than reality.
Horatio snapped out of his thoughts quickly. The soft sound of quiet crying was filling the stone hallway. He rounded the final corner towards his bed chamber and found a heap of white and red piled at his doorstep.
"Ophelia?" Horatio whispered, rushing and kneeling in front of her. She looked a mess, with her hair unbound, red curls falling in every direction, her night gown dirty and wrinkled from sitting on the floor. She hardly seemed to notice his presence.
Quickly, Horatio unlocked his door, and helped Ophelia to her feet, guiding her into the small space and lighting candles. She looked around, her gaze landing on the unfinished game of chess and quietly sat in front of it as Horatio wrapped his blanket around her.
"Are you alright?"
"I don't know." She began by picking up one of her pawns, pushing it up a singular square.
"Ophelia, what happened?"
"I had a dream. Only, I'm not quite sure if it was." Another tear ran down her cheek. "I am sorry, Horatio. I didn't know where else to go. Laertes and I- we are not on the best of terms at the moment."
The doctor hesitated before standing behind her. He gently combed through her hair with his fingers, treating each knot and tangle with care. They sat in silence together, Ophelia now moving one of her opponent's knights as Horatio slowly separated her hair into three sections.
"What was the dream?" His question cast some spell over the lady because she froze, holding her breath, her queen in her hand.
"It was strange." She placed the queen back down. "I was in a hedge maze, but it wasn't a normal maze made of bushes and leaves. The walls were so tall, and it was all made of brambles, thorns, and sharp bones. It was so thick I couldn't shove through."
Horatio began to slowly braid her long, curly red hair as Ophelia instead picked up another of her pawns instead, and placed it with a satisfying little tap against the board.
"I began to walk through the maze, but every turn only warranted me far more lost than just a few moments before. The ground began to slowly flood with water, ice cold, clear water. I could not feel my feet. I wore a large gown, flowers tangled in my clothes and hair. As the water rose my dress began to slowly drag me down into its rising depths. Each step was a battle more tumultuous than the last. I feared I was to be pulled down and killed in the frigid water." A pause, and then Ophelia said: "And that is when I saw it."
"Saw what?" Horatio asked, unsatisfied with the braid and slowly taking it out to restart.
"I saw an island, a small hill risen above the surface of the water. It was the only thing that seemed to be alive. Its grass was so soft, smelled so sweet. It was a battle just to get out of the water, but as soon as my feet were on the grass I began to hear the voice of a goddess whispering in my ear. I felt her hands on my shoulders, guiding me towards the center."
"What did she say?"
Ophelia took a moment to respond, moving her opponent's bishop. "Ambition is stolen as perseverance is drowned, leaving knowledge crying over a broken crown. She said it over and over and over again as though it was imperative I remember it." She sighed , whispering the rhyme again to herself: "Ambition is stolen as perseverance is drowned, leaving knowledge crying over a broken crown. I can't quite understand its meaning."
"I doubt there is meaning to be found." Horatio responded comfortingly as he slowly woke her hair.
"And yet," Ophelia sighed, once again picking up her queen and tipping the bishop over before taking her position, "that is how prophecies always seem to go. They are utter nonsense in the present, perfect clarity in the past."
"You think this is a prophecy?" Horatio's fingers froze, confusion written all over his body.
"Don't say it as though I am mad. It meant something, if not in reality, at least in the dream. I am convinced it was Hecate whispering it over and over again. Ambition is stolen as perseverance is drowned, leaving knowledge crying over a broken crown. She pulled me to center of the island and that is when I found my father dead. A stag, large, strong, lay broken around my father's shoulder, his mighty antlers piercing my father's heart. They laid together lifeless as Hecate forced me to take in every detail of the scene, repeating the chant over and over again as the once green, soft grass died and turned into blood, and mud, and death. And then I woke up. I had nowhere else to go. I tried to brush it off, to sleep, but her voice has been stuck in my mind since I awoke. Ambition is stolen as perseverance is drowned, leaving knowledge crying over a broken crown. Eventually I decided to come talk to the only person I trust enough with this at my disposal, that isn't surrounded by guards. I knocked but you did not answer. Your door was locked, so I assumed you would return at some point." She smiled to herself, moving her opponent's knight.
"How long have you been waiting here?"
"An hour or so."
"Ophelia, I'm sorry-"
"It's quite alright," the lady interrupted.
"Someone could have seen you," the physician interrupted. "You could have been ruined because of me."
"I'm already ruined. The court and my father for that matter just haven't realized it yet." She hummed slightly before readjusting her king. "Enough about me. Where were you?"
Horatio paused, quiet for a long moment. "With Hamlet."
"He is quite lucky."
"I hope such a fortune finds you," he offered.
"I hope not. I would be a horrible mother. Mine was the definition of perfection, I could never live up to her. And my father is everything one should strive not to be. I worry I have picked up too many of his habits. No, I much rather hope I die an old maid." She smiled as she placed her opponent's queen.
"Alone? No lover or husband?"
"I don't see much of a need for one. I find myself quite broken. Unlike you and Hamlet and Laertes, and frankly the whole world, I don't want romance. I have rather enough happening as it is."
"Then I wish you happiness, and peace."
"Peace," Ophelia sighed wistfully. "Peace would be good. I would much rather have peace than these words filling my skull. Ambition is stolen as perseverance is drowned, leaving knowledge crying over a broken crown."
"Do you really think it's a prophecy?" Horatio asked delicately. "It sounds closer to a fever dream than anything."
"I hope it's nothing but a fever dream, because if it's anything more, it means that my father is going to die. I just wish I could understand what she was trying to tell me."
"I doubt you will ever know," Horatio replied, his words feeling hollow on his lips.
"I hope not," she agreed.
"You should go rest, Ophelia."
"I don't find myself tired. Besides, I am in the middle of a very enthralling game." She picked up her rook and knocked a pawn over.
"Then I'll escort you back to your rooms before the maids start waking up to feed the fires." He finished the last of the braid, tying off gently, it was loose and uneven, but his small attempt at comfort was completed.
"That sounds like peace," the lady replied, a soft smile greeting Horatio as he sat beside her on his wooden chest. "Thank you."
Ambition is stolen as perseverance is drowned, leaving knowledge crying over a broken crown.
