Fanfic - Hamlet - The Secret, 1/1
Summary: Hamlet confides in Horatio.
Pairing: None (unless you squint, in which case, Hamlet/Horatio)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Takes place sometime between I,v and III,2 in Shakespeare's Hamlet.
Disclaimer: Not my characters. Was once a highschool writing project, but is now repurposed as fanfic.
The Secret
Though I knew a better man would’ve pressed for the concern upon seeing a friend so distracted, I had little choice. My queries were met, always, with mad poetry and frivolous chatter; I had no heart for insistence. Yet it pained me to see him thus, and, with little comprehension of what I did, I began to withdraw. My excuses were always real - I’d abandoned my studies and wished to retake them, I’d correspondence to attend to, oh, a thousand worthless chores were to be found, as any idle knave might find! - yet, in truth, the sum of it all was that I spent little time with my dear friend and Prince.
So it was that I came to greet him uneasily one evening, sadness and confusion in my heart. It showed, perhaps, in my eyes - he was fond of reading my thoughts there, I know. Whatever the reason, he affixed himself to my side quite cheerily, and begged to know if he might kidnap me. His words, once untangled, invited me to stroll about the grounds with him; though it was growing darker by the minute, I obeyed. As we walked about I could not but smile, for his words and capers betrayed him : though madness, be it real or feigned, had taken his mind, his heart and character were free and glad, solemnly impetuous as a child and with the brave imagination of a playwright : in short, he was unchanged. But when we were at last far from all others, having slipped his guards and traveled to a deserted corner of the garden, he steadied and stopped our steps.
“You’ve been better hidden than the golden fleece of late, Horatio,” he reproached softly. “I’ve scarce laid eyes upon you this past fortnight, and you vanish, fairy-like, when I seek your conversation.”
“If I’ve offended you, highness, I am heartily sorry for’t,” I apologized, glancing away. He dodged around me, glaring.
“Highness! You’ve not addressed me thus since the first days of our friendship. What, have I faded from your love and favour?”
I met his furious stare with my own, though its power was far less.
“Nay, ‘tis that I’ve fallen from yours.”
Again I tried to turn away, but his hand upon my shoulder held me fast. I glanced back to see his anger evaporated, guilt and regret in its place.
“If you have, my Horatio, I’ve not known of’t.”
“How else can it be,” I countered, “when you’ve naught but distracted fancies and knavish tricks for me? It seems you’ve naught but childish pranks in your head now, though you’ve your moments of sensibility.”
“Naught but childish pranks in my head?” he echoed, seeming to be caught betwixt laughter and tears. “O Horatio, Horatio, if you knew!”
“As I would, my lord, if you confided in me.”
He flinched at that, and shut his eyes as if to shut his ears against my words by doing it. I cannot say how it hurt me to wound him thus, but I armoured my heart and ignored my feelings.
“It is of little substance. I plan to return to Wittenberg soon; naught holds me here but you, and you cast me aside like a blotted paper.”
“Naught but me? Elsinore holds no charms for you?”
I shrugged.
“Your uncle, the King, has asked me to find out the cause of your sudden madness. But I know no more than the event that was its catalyst, and that I’m sworn not to divulge. Besides, I know your tricks have been directed against him, and I’ll not betray even your silence on the matter. Perhaps he’ll call others from among your friends to coax it from you.”
He scowled, reaching for me again. Holding both my arms to keep me still, he studied my face. Despite the situation, this was the least distracted I’d known him to be since that damned night, when the phantasm confided I-knew-not-what to him.
“I would not have you leave, my dearest friend,” he said at last.
“Yet I would go,” I reiterated stubbornly. He sighed, losing himself in the labyrinth of his thoughts again. I waited, too patient to remove myself from his grasp, as the cold winds blew wintry about us.
“Perhaps… And ‘t’would ease my heart, i’ faith,” he muttered in the end. “If I confided in you again, Horatio, woul’t stay? Woul’t give me counsel, lend me thine eyes, ears and brain, be faithfully my friend, swear to keep my secrets closer than your own, and be the dagger to my rapier-thrust, as Iolaus to Hercules?”
“Aye,” I conceded. “But you need not bind me to you with unwilling confidences. I’ll stop here as long as ‘tis your will, though I know not what use you make of me.”
“I’ve dire need of a true friend, my Horatio,” he assured me with a smile.
“You’ve dire need of less melodrama in your view,” I chastened, rolling my eyes. He snorted; not a regal sound, but an honest one.
“Perhaps, but I’ll not get such solemnity yet. Are we alone?”
“I believe so, my lord,” I assured him.
“Then listen well, and perhaps you can judge these terrible marvels.
“The ghost you summoned me to speak with was, as you saw, for you saw him well enough to mark it, that of my noble father. This you know. He came - from what fearsome torments I know not - to speak with me, and tell me of the true circumstances of his most unnatural death.”
Here I started, and he nodded.
“Aye, you’d guessed that, then?”
“The season was already cold for such a venomous serpent; I have heard that such beasts sleep when touched by winter’s frosts.”
“Would that it were so! But the serpent who so robbed my sire and King of life, of crown, of all he possessed, was not of a form to crawl upon the ground, scraping his belly on rocks and sticks. Nay, this snake walks upright, and talks, and makes such gestures and signs as mark him a man, and more. O thrice damned, smiling villain! He, by means of a poisonous elixir, poured in my sleeping father’s ear, committed the most foul murder of his King - and his brother! And then, third damnation on them piled, to marry, incestuously, my mother - who was his sister!”
He howled his last words, tears of rage and grief gleaming, knife-like, in his eyes. I shook my head in mute denial, shocked beyond measure.
“Aye, so he said,” Hamlet confirmed inexorably. “Damned, horrible crime! And I, weak, cowardly fool though I am - my father has charged me with his revenge.”
I frowned, suspicious.
“Can this be so? You are certain this is true, and not some devil’s trick, to drive you by pride and grief to sin and Hell?”
He shook his head, sinking to the ground before me as if his confession had sapped all his strength.
“How can it be else? The spirit was my father; I’d swear to’t.”
“It bore the late King’s face, and spoke in his voice; perhaps, if it had written, it would’ve done so in your father’s hand. But what proof have you that this was your father in sacred truth, and not merely a mask of him?” I asked, kneeling beside my liege.
He studied the ground, scowling. Behind his bright eyes I could almost see his thoughts whirling, tossed about and buffeted this way and that, as though caught up in a storm. My own thoughts were wild as well, though likely less so, and torn between doubt and horror. The night about us - for twilight had ended as we talked - was bitterly cold, the stars hardly lit above us. But though I shivered superstitiously he made no sign he felt the chill, so feverish were his musings. Far longer than I’d have liked passed before he turned back to me.
“What advice can you give, Horatio?” he pleaded.
“None yet,” I admitted. “But wait a bit, for love of me, if for naught else. I’ll not rest if you act too soon and suffer for it; and we may hit upon some trial to discover the truth of these grave matters.”
Wearily, he smiled at me and rose, taking me with him.
“I’ll be guided by you so far, and gladly. Forgive me, my friend, for not confiding in you when these problems were still new.”
I hushed him.
“There’s no offence to forgive,” I told him lightly. “But you’ll be apologizing for getting me ill, if we remain out longer.”
He laughed.
“Aye, my Horatio, let’s to warm firelight and hot draughts go. I cannot express how light my heart is, now that you know.”