Chapter Text
Leaves crunched under my feet as I crossed the courtyard in search of a suitable place to sit down and read. Summer decided to be a little more stubborn this year, but there were some battles that were not meant to be won. Yet it would still be insensitive of me to not enjoy the fruit of her labor by remaining inside the library. With a book in hand, I found myself a seat under one of the oak trees along the path that circulated the courtyard of Wittenberg.
I was far from the only student hanging onto the train of Summer’s gown, if the hooting and hollering from the center of this field was any indication. The inharmonious notes of metal clashing only drew more attention to the performers.
A group of my peers rushed down the path in the direction of the duel while chattering among themselves. “Barely a fortnight since this semester started and the Danish prince already accepted a challenge! Surely his swordsmanship is phenomenal!”
Those noises were tuned out in favor of the fluttering of the parchment that rested in my hands, and I tore my eyes away as a flurry of footsteps and earnest voices approached. A figure strolled down the path with a light smile gracing his features as a gaggle of students tried to fall into step beside him. Many of them were familiar faces that attended the orientation alongside myself and the man they trail behind, but a few appeared to be of the upper years. However, this progression could not retain my attention for any longer and my eyes returned to my book.
The chatter grew then faded into the distance, but I became uneasy with the weight of someone’s gaze on me. I looked up once more only to see that Hamlet himself stood in front of me while the crowd was long gone.
“Sincerest apologies, for interrupting a reader is much like clipping an angel’s wings. But lest my eyes deceive me, you appear to be reading the Iliad?” The afternoon sun placed a halo behind the prince and casted his striking features in gold. His eyes showed a genuineness that I thought those surrounding him would have long extinguished. I would be content with drowning in those blues if it meant holding his attention but for a moment.
“Your Royal Highness. Your senses are keen, for this is indeed the Iliad.”
Hamlet’s smile grew wider before awareness flashed across his face and he grimaced. “Excuse my manners, my words were rather impatient and I leaped into conversation before introductions. It’s Hamlet of Denmark. May I have your name, good gentleman?”
I did not attempt to stop my lips from curling upwards, “It is Horatio, my lord.”
“Horatio? Well it is my pleasure to be acquainted with you. If you found the Iliad as splendid as I did, it would be a shame if I were to leave your brilliant mind unexplored.” I was about to express my gratitude when Hamlet’s hand reached towards my head and I felt my chest still. He gently plucked out a fallen oak leaf from my hair and offered it to me.
“Be not afraid, the tree of wisdom and strength presented you with a gift.” I let out the breath that I held in apprehension at his action.
“Rest assured, I will accept her gift with grace.” Our fingertips brushed as I took the leaf into my possession.
Yet Hamlet seemed unwilling to leave me be, as he held his hand out once again. “I heard locals boasting about the theater of this town, care to inquire about their showings together?” Rather than voicing my answer, I slipped the oak leaf between the pages as I closed the book. I then took his hand and pulled myself up.
I took your hand and my heart never wanted to let go since.