Work Text:
“I hope thy troubles have left thee, my lord,” Horatio consoled from afar, training his eyes on their feet instead of Hamlet’s face. They were in one of Hamlet’s chambers, and Horatio felt strangely unfamiliar inside the walls. The air in the room was heavy from the shallow breaths the prince was letting out.
“I wouldn’t say that, Horatio, my troubles have become my umbrage. What does it matter, for who knows much longer it will follow me around,” Horatio’s eyes widened as he took in Hamlet’s words. He finally looked up to meet Hamlet’s eyes while the man simply stared at him with sad, accepting eyes.
“What is the matter, prince?” Horatio asked, linking his hands behind his back and looking at his prince dutifully. The difference is their postures was almost comical: while Horatio stood tall and stiff, Hamlet lounged in his bed with limbs sprawled about. Horatio knew that he noticed it as well.
“What’s the matter with you, good sir?” Hamlet countered and Horatio raised an eyebrow, unimpressed and finally feeling himself relax a little at the prince’s joking tone. “You usually steady my trembling figure with a touch, now you create such distance between us,” He couldn’t help but chuckle as Hamlet dramatically reached a hand out to him. Usually, Horatio would meet him halfway, but there was something constricting within the castle walls that kept him away from Hamlet.
Horatio hesitated as he stared Hamlet’s hand down. He sighed fondly, not being able to reject Hamlet when the man used his fingers to reach further. Horatio cracked a smile, stepping closer and finally taking Hamlet’s warm hand in his own. He blindly followed as Hamlet pulled him closer after Horatio gave his hand a light squeeze.
“Here you are,” Hamlet whispered when Horatio lowered down to his knees, looking straight at Hamlet and rolling his eyes.
“Am I not always?” He asked rhetorically, hoping Hamlet’s receptive mind would pick up on Horatio’s earnest declaration. The prince simply stared at him but somehow Horatio could see a storm of emotions in his eyes—ranging from flickering disbelief to unwavering wildness. Horatio opened his mouth to say something once he felt the cold press of paper from where he had kept it in his boot, but a knock on the door beat him in getting a response from Hamlet. “Who comes here?” Horatio calls out in a monotonous tone, smiling when Hamlet snicker.
“Your Lordship, welcome back to Denmark,” Orsic, a random courtier Horatio was sure had arrived yesterday. He was quick to get to his feet, standing up straight and clearing his throat. Horatio had no interest in yet another courtier reporting Hamlet for misconduct.
“I…,” Hamlet sat up and fixed his hair. “Humbly thank you, sir,” He looked over at Horatio who simply shrugged before looking back at Orsic.
“Your Lordship, I bring an important announcement: His Majesty wishes to impart—”
“Oh, good sir, if mine uncle-father wishes to impart anything, I should be so pleased to receive it!”
The obvious snark in his tone seemed to evade Orsic completely, who only gave a jovial smile in return. “What wonderful reception, my Lord, his Majesty would be glad to hear it!”
Horatio hoped his effort to veil his laughter behind a cough wasn’t in vain, but the prince’s mirthful glance his way was telling enough.
“He requests an answer to the wager he has placed on your head—”
“Yet another!”
“—in a duel against none other than Laertes, an absolute gentleman, believe me. The jewel of the gentry and of the most tasteful upbringing, as I’m sure you will soon come to understand.”
“Laertes? He wishes to duel, to remedy my recent transgression against his honor, no doubt. For himself or for his asinine father, I wonder…” To Horatio’s surprise, Hamlet appeared to be taking Osric’s words as more of a divine calling than the murmurs of a water fly as he did before. The once-calm atmosphere of the prince’s chambers suddenly took on a new weight, pressing uncomfortably on Horatio’s chest.
“Very well. If anyone were to close the curtains on this tragic farce, I suppose it would be him. A man of infallible character and commendable adherence to his own sense of justice — I could not dream a more fitting adversary.”
Something bitter stirred in Horatio, the guileless admiration in Hamlet’s voice almost shameless in its sincerity. He truly believed Laertes was his worthy counterpart? That careless fool couldn’t ever hope to hold a candle to Hamlet’s character, forged by fire and earth and crippling self-reflection.
For as long as Horatio had known Hamlet, the prince never seemed to cease his running, stuck in a relentless chase after something perpetually out of reach. He observed this truth in his everyday life: he saw it in his steely blue gaze trained on the horizon, in his clenched teeth moved by superficial platitudes, in his furrowed brow and trembling shoulders. Hamlet was an ever-evolving phenomenon and Horatio wouldn’t tire of running right alongside him even if he were cursed to.
How could Laertes even consider taking his prince on as an equal?
Horatio had never been skilled at masking his feelings, and if even a fraction of the vitriol in his heart showed, it would be enough to explain the sudden look of concern trained on him.
“Horatio?”
In his frustration, Horatio hadn’t noticed the room’s attendance dwindling from three to two, and was wholly unprepared for the intensity of Hamlet’s undivided attention.
“Yes, my lord?” Horatio asked, careful to not stutter. “Orsic took his leave already?” He asked, stuttering out a breath when Hamlet walked towards him. Hamlet tilted his face up to look at Horatio, an easy smile blossoming onto his face. He took a step back when Hamlet moved even closer.
“Do not move away from me, sir,” Hamlet mumbled and Horatio could feel his heartbeat quicken as the prince tilted his head to the side. His alarmed eyes couldn’t stray away from Hamlet’s hooded ones and Horatio couldn’t figure out just what was so different about this meeting than the rest. “I just wish to look at you, why do you go further away?” Horatio contemplated how to answer, but Hamlet was speaking again. “Do I make you nervous?” Of course not, but Hamlet wasn’t letting Horatio answer. “I believed that—”
“Hamlet, please,” Horatio finally rushed out, instinctively bringing his hands out to rest against Hamlet’s shoulders. “How do you inquire all the things I cannot answer?” He said nervously, sighing when Hamlet’s eyes lit up mischievously.
“Ah, Horatio!” Hamlet exclaimed happily, laughing and turning away from him and back to his lounge seat. “I only jest with you, how do you lose your humor when you enter this castle?” At that, Horatio smiled in defeat. That was because at Wittenberg they were two parts of the same whole, but Hamlet lived in a realm far above Horatio’s when they resided in the royal court.
“I do not have an answer for that either, my lord,” Horatio said, shaking his head at Hamlet looking around the room. He grabbed one of Hamlet’s chaperon hats from the table nearby, holding it up for the prince to finally notice. Hamlet took it from him, placing it on his head and smiling when Horatio patted down a fold against his forehead.
“Thank you, my friend.”
********
Horatio picked out a quill from the basket at the front of the room, walking to the back of the lecture hall and taking a seat at an empty desk.
He regretted not waking up early enough to catch a seat at the front. Now he was stuck in the back with the fly waters he was sure were being forced to attend.
“Good sir,” He perked up, turning his head to find someone staring down at him. The man looked like Hyperion himself amongst the dark walls of the school. He wore bright beeches paired with an equally bright vest, heavily contrasting everyone else who wore dull and simple clothing—including Horatio himself. “Is the seat next to you vacant?” He asked and Horatio couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
“I believe so. You can sit here if you would like,” Horatio answered, smiling at the way the man cleared his throat and looked at the ground after Horatio stared for a moment too long. “I never thought to hear an accent like yours at Wittenberg. Where are you from, sir?” The man sat down next to him, placing his elbow on the table and turning to face Horatio. He felt strangely exposed, as if the man was picking him apart with his sharp eyes.
“I am from Denmark!” The man exclaimed, smiling widely. “I'm glad the first person I've met here is so attentive,” He gushed and Horatio let out a scoff in return. Horatio could feel the man glow and burn, he wondered for how much longer he could sit there without squinting his eyes.
“I refuse to dignify that with a response, sir,” Horatio said, looking at the front of the room as the Latin professor finally entered.
“Salve, omnes,” The man up front greeted the class, motioning upwards. “Please, rise for our prayer before we begin lessons.” At that, they all stood up and Horatio heard the man beside him mutter.
“Oh, I will rise for you,” Horatio turned his head alarmingly, looking at him with wide eyes. “Did I say that out loud?” He said mischievously, sporting a glint in his eyes that made Horatio even more concerned.
“Sir, where exactly are you from?” Horatio asked the man, blushing from thinking over the joke while they had been praying. “And I never got your name.”
“Oh, my humblest apologies,” the man said with a frown, bringing a hand out in between the two. “I reside in Elsinore,” He said as Horatio took his hand, almost flinching when he felt the smooth skin. “My name is Hamlet.”
Hamlet seemed to continue speaking, however, Horatio instantly blocked him out at the mention of his name. Hamlet, from Kronborg. There was only one place in Denmark of that name.
Prince Hamlet from Elsinore Castle.
Suddenly, it all made sense. No wonder Hamlet wore such bright and elegant clothes. Horatio’s calloused hands were for sure scratching the prince's smooth ones.
“M-my Lordship!” Horatio finally addressed him appropriately, letting go of Hamlet’s hand and watching the way a frown graced his soft features. “My sincerest apologies.”
“What for, good sir?” Hamlet asked as if Horatio scoffing at a prince was not radical at all.
“I did not realize it was thee, Lordship, please allow thyself to forgive me,” he all but rambled and hoped Hamlet would be kind enough to not mind.
“It matters not—”
“I believe it does,” Horatio cut him off, completely flustered. He then noticed his hat sitting on the table in front of him. He grabbed it with a trembling hand, placing it on his head and mumbling out an apology as Hamlet simply shook his head.
“No need for this, my friend,” Hamlet soothed fondly, lowering his voice down to a whisper. He surprised Horatio by bringing a hand to the rim of his hat before also grabbing his own. He took both their hats off at the same time, placing them on the table. Horatio could have looked at the two hats next to each other, Hamlet’s big and feathered one alongside Horatio’s, however, he simply couldn’t turn away from Hamlet’s eyes. They seemed to dance all over Horatio’s face. “Here, you and I are equal.”
At that, Horatio knew he couldn’t leave.
********
“Give me your pardon, sir. I have done you wrong; but pardon as you are a gentleman,” Hamlet shook Laertes’s hand and Horatio had to fight off a frown from where he was sitting. They had finally made it to the hall where the duel was to be held. Horatio had been worried to no end as they walked the halls, but there was a strange sense of calm to Hamlet—it, in turn, made Horatio even more nervous.
“I do receive your offered love like love and will not wrong it,” Horatio heard Laertes say and knew that his words held no real merit. Hamlet would for sure say that Horatio was being too harsh, but the sudden adulations the two shared for each other made Horatio believe that something was out of the ordinary.
“I’ll be your foil, Laertes,” He heard bits of the conversation again and Hamlet was looking at Laertes with the same adoration he looked upon the murals of the finest Greek Gods. Horatio wondered just why he felt so unsettled by it. Horatio tuned their banter out, not wanting to show on his face just how annoyed he felt. He only began paying attention when Hamlet set a goblet of some drink next to him. “Please, watch over my drink, Horatio, we shall share it once I win,” Hamlet shot him a small wink and Horatio scoffed.
“You actually have to win first, my prince,” Horatio smiled, feeling a pair of eyes burning through the back of his skull but not turning away from Hamlet.
“That I will, I promise,” Hamlet whispered before turning around and jogging over to where Laertes was standing. Horatio sighed deeply, leaning back in his hair and gripping the edge nervously. For some reason, he had dread building up in the pits of his stomach—like poison eating at him from the inside. The match began and Horatio looked over at the Queen watching excitedly, her eyes trained on Hamlet while the King stared Horatio down. He tried his best not to look like he was phased by the menacing glare that seemed to know something more than others.
Horatio watched the play with intense eyes, furrowing his brows as he followed Hamlet’s movements. For some reason, the world seemed tilted about an incorrect axis and Horatio felt like something was about to go terribly wrong. He huffed out a sigh as Hamlet scored the first point, hoping the prince would look over to soothe his nerves a bit. Hamlet did no such thing, instead, giving Laertes a handshake. Horatio turned to look at the goblet sitting next him, picking it up and bringing it to his face. He assumed it to be wine, which was sure to help him calm down—Hamlet was winning so there was no harm in taking a sip for good omen.
“Ha!” Hamlet cried out when he scored a second point, making the crowd interrupt into cheers. Before Horatio could press his lips to the rim, he saw the Queen stand up in celebration, applauding and walking over to Hamlet. Horatio put down the goblet in a haste without taking a sip, not knowing if it would offend Gertrude.
“Here, Hamlet, take my napkin; rub thy brows!” She exclaimed, fussing over him as she ruffled his hair. She walked over to Horatio who gave her a small nod and picked up the goblet. “This is the one that belongs to Hamlet?” She asked.
“It does, my queen,” Horatio answered dutifully even though, technically, it belonged to them. Horatio let it go, there would be plenty of time to share drinks after the duel. She turned back to return to Hamlet, taking the drink with her. Horatio watched Claudius stand up, looking worried.
“Gertude, do not drink!” Claudius exclaimed and the loud boom of his voice made a chill run down Horatio’s spine, making him stand.
“I will, my lord, I pray you pardon me,” She answered and Hamlet finally looked at Horatio in surprise, as if to see whether or not the Queen’s sudden agency was a surprise to him as well or not. She took two small sips, offering the goblet to Hamlet who shook his head.
“Not yet, madam,” he simply responded, glancing over at Horatio before handing her the napkin back. “Come for the third, Laertes,” Hamlet beckoned him as everyone took their seats again to watch the third play begin. Horatio’s heartbeat quickened when he watched Hamlet get stabbed by the rapier.
“Hamlet!” Horatio called out, rushing over to Hamlet who hissed out in pain. He suddenly felt irrational for such excessive worrying the moment Hamlet smiled at him. He couldn’t help but shoot a glare Laertes’s way who looked nervous as is.
“Ah, so you only get worried when someone other than you stabs me during a match,” Hamlet let out a slight laugh, but Horatio could see a type of pain behind Hamlet’s eyes that wasn’t ever there. “This is no different, my friend, I am well. A three to nil play would have been boring for you to watch,” He reasoned with a smirk and Horatio sighed exasperatedly. Hamlet simply brought the tip of his thumb in between his teeth before flicking it at Horatio, making Laertes gasp.
“Thou have yet to get me my drink, my lord, I would like for thee to not be injured,” Horatio said easily, watching a version of Hamlet that thrived at Wittenberg and turning around to stand off to the side—on Hamlet’s side. The next play began and Horatio watched Hamlet skillfully exchange their rapiers, his eyes lighting up as he basked in the gasps of awe.
Horatio knew how much his prince loved to show off.
********
“I hope you’re ready, my lord,” Horatio said in a teasing voice as he tested out the grip on his rapier. “It will be rather unfortunate for a prince to lose to a commoner.” He was met with Hamlet’s wolfish grin.
“Why do you make such remarks, Horatio?” Hamlet said with a sudden sincerity that caught Horatio off. He made remarks more for his own sake than Hamlet’s. The prince was burning up with life and it was easy to forget he was any royalty inside the walls of Wittenberg. Hamlet laughed just as loud as Horatio as he made crude jokes about anything and everything. He held everyone in the palm of his hand because of his ability to charm all who he came into contact with. His royal status seemed nothing more than a cape he took off when throwing adulations at Horatio.
People knew Hamlet as human, far different from the god-like reputation of his father, but to Horatio he was so much more. Hamlet was a supernova that Horatio couldn’t tear his eyes away from. A burst of energy, screaming his colors out, brightening up everyone’s dark skies but his own. Once Horatio’s awe of all that temporarily dwindled, he noticed the enigmatic nature of his prince. Horatio could all but look, wonder about what darkness hides behind and beyond the beguiling supernova.
“You’re the furthest from ‘common’ for I find no one like you beyond this very room,” Hamlet confessed with such nonchalance that Horatio wondered how much sarcasm was woven into the statement. “Enough self-loathing—that’s my thing,” Hamlet chuckled even though what Horatio was doing was far from loathing. He let it be.
“Best out of three?” Horatio offered, raising his rapier between them. Hamlet brought his own up, clinking them together.
Readying his stance with a far too confident smirk, Hamlet nodded. “As you wish.”
It wasn’t his first time sparring with the prince, and from the long sessions they had spent together in this very room, Horatio already had an idea of what to expect.
Hamlet always began with a forward-back-forward step sequence, quickly followed by a lunge to the torso. The fancy footwork was likely intended to distract fresh-faced opponents, but it was as easy as breathing to sidestep his attack when one knew what to look for. Hamlet caught his eye with a knowing smile, and Horatio wondered if he continued performing the same opening simply out of habit, or if he planned to inevitably change his modus and secure a win by the favor of Horatio’s unconscious conditioning. Unfortunately for his prince, Horatio wasn’t that willing to defer to his charms.
In return, Horatio pushed forward, meeting each of Hamlet’s well-practiced thrusts with a matching parry. He usually didn’t take such an offensive position from the start of a match, and he hoped to catch Hamlet off guard. From the unusually concentrated look in his eyes, he supposed it was working.
The chamber amplified the clashing of their rapiers, the steady, almost rhythmic pace of their match unfurling into an invigorating bass to accompany the soaring tenor of Horatio’s heart. Dueling with Hamlet was the starlight to Horatio’s darkened skies. It set him free, allowed him to adventure beyond his well-trodden foundations and explore the uncharted territories of his potential with the reassuring promise of a beacon home. Although they’d done this so many times before, no match was ever the same. Hamlet always came to him with new techniques learned, his every step better, faster, more precise than the last. It was as if he was constantly pushing himself forward, and Horatio could do nothing to honor his dedication but return his passion with full force, finding himself more motivated to improve his abilities than he can ever remember feeling.
Their duel continued, the echoes of their swords ensconcing them both within a world of their own until it was just the two of them, Horatio and Hamlet, with their rapiers to speak the words their hearts could not yet divulge.
Hamlet thrust once more, but his footing was just weak enough for Horatio’s parry to set him off balance, allowing Horatio to push his rapier to the side and further weaken Hamlet’s stance. Just when Horatio readied a forward lunge, sure to win the round, he made the dire mistake of meeting Hamlet’s burning gaze as the other swiftly cut his rapier and force it from his hand. As his sword cluttered to the ground, Horatio could do nothing but watch as Hamlet lunged forward one final time, the tip of his sword hovering right over Horatio’s heart.
That was clearly a violation of the rules, for one was only supposed to aim for the head, and Horatio would have said as much if it wasn’t for the sudden lack of air in his lungs. Any semblance of protest withered in his throat in the face of his prince, his fiery eyes and wild hair and self-satisfied grin, looking for all the world as if he’d known this entire time exactly how the match would play out and had gone through the motions only to oblige Horatio’s whims. The steel of Hamlet’s blade weighed heavily on his heart despite the lack of a physical contact point, and Horatio’s faculties were too occupied with comprehending his unanticipated loss to even begin interpreting the shining depths of Hamlet’s eyes.
“One down, my friend,” his prince declared, just shy of a preen, and it sounded as much of a challenge as it did a final verdict of Horatio’s fate. “Ready for another?”
*********
“Look to the Queen there, ho!” Osric grabbed Horatio’s shoulder and shook him, yanking him out of his reminiscing. Horatio looked around alarmingly to see everyone looking over at Getrude with surprised and worried eyes. He watched Hamlet run over and catch her as she fell.
Horatio stood up, hastily running past Laertes who was on his knees and over to Hamlet. “No, no, the drink, the drink! O, my dear Hamlet! The drink, the drink! I am poisoned,” She let out slowly, choked up and Horatio could see the death grip Hamlet had on her trembling figure. Horatio let out a sigh as they all watched the life in her finally leave just as Hamlet was about to say something. She lay in his arms, looking the more serene Horatio had ever seen her.
“H-Hamlet!” A scream rang out, making them all turn. Laertes was lying helplessly on the ground, shuddering as he looked at Hamlet desperately. “Thou art slain. No medicine in the world can do thee good. In thee there is not half an hour’s life. Lo, here I lie, never to rise again. Thy mother’s poisoned. I can no more. The King, the King’s to blame!” He rushed out and Horatio could feel Hamlet burn up at the confession. He let out a shallow breath as the prince stood up, letting the people around him tend to Gertrude instead.
Horatio was quick to rush over to him, holding Hamlet back until the deranged eyes were on him instead. “Hamlet, there is no need to—” He tried to reason, hoping to be the sense to Hamlet’s fury like usual, but the waver in his voice made it clear that wouldn’t be the case anymore.
“There is every need, Horatio,” Hamlet said in a low voice, making Horatio freeze. “I care not if I die…” He trailed off, looking more determined than ever and Horatio couldn’t wrap his head around what was going on. “Venom to thy!” He addressed Claudius who had been watching the entire thing unfold in horror. Horatio tried stopping Hamlet as the prince marched over to the King, grabbing the goblet on his way. “Let go, Horatio!” He said with such malice that it seemed like he injected Horatio with a venom of his own. Horatio did let go, suddenly very afraid of Hamlet’s icy eyes.
Horatio watched the King die with practically no emotion. It was to be expected since he only knew Claudius through Hamlet. Anecdotes of a young Hamlet getting into trouble with his uncle, villainous acts towards his brother for years, and borderline tyrannus decisions made as king was all Horatio knew. Why should he mourn?
What hit Horatio the hardest was watching his friend rush over to a dying Laertes and cradling him in his arms. It was catching up to Horatio that Hamlet was going to die. He was going to die and was spending his last hour next to someone who started caring about him just moments ago. When it should be Horatio. Horatio had held Hamlet’s shuddering figure as he cried during hard nights at Wittenberg. He held Hamlet’s hand as the prince tried standing tall during his father’s funeral. Horatio should be holding Hamlet right now.
He watched Laertes die and suddenly realized that he was making Hamlet’s inevitable death about himself. Shaking his head, Horatio ran over to Hamlet trying to crawl away. He could sense Hamlet grasping onto life as he panted. “Oh, Hamlet, what has happened?” He asked quietly, intertwining his fingers with Hamlet’s. Some strange sort of dread filled Horatio as the prince smiled.
“I am dead, Horatio,” He answered quietly. “You knew I would be dead,” He said and Horatio shook his head. He always knew Hamlet's mind would soon eat him alive, however, he could have never seen it coming that it would lead to a catastrophe like this. “Yes, you did, my friend, you’re too smart,” He gave a light chuckle and Horatio clutched him harder.
“Hamlet, please!” Horatio cut him off desperately, feeling tears well up in his eyes. “You mustn't close your eyes, you cannot—” Hamlet interjected with a hush.
“Horatio, I wish to tell you so much—tell you all that I have harbored in my heart since we met,” He trembled and Horatio felt Hamlet’s warmth escaping him. “But let it be—Horatio, I am dead,” Hamlet confessed with such an acceptance of death that Horatio felt himself accepting it too. Hamlet’s eyes were crossing and Horatio finally let out a small sob, his eyes landing on the goblet around which Hamlet had loosely wrapped his fingers. Hamlet was dying and with that every inside joke, every deep secret, every confession shielded behind friendship was dying as well. He looked at Hamlet’s face one last time, it looked as serene as his mother’s, and grabbed the goblet from him.
“There is still some liquor left,” He stuttered out, watching Hamlet’s eyes widen. “I am more an antique Roman than a Dane,” He brought the cup closer to himself. Who was Horatio without Hamlet if not a peasant who tried too hard to fit into a Denmark he didn’t belong in?
“Horatio, no, as thou art a man! You must tell my story if thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,” Hamlet pleaded like it was even a question. Hamlet didn’t just occupy a space in Horatio’s heart, instead he invaded every bit of it. He was everything Horatio thought and felt.
Hamlet trembled harder and Horatio opened his mouth to respond—to say any parting words—but he was suddenly being yanked away. “What?! Nay, stop, I have to be with him!” Horatio yelled as some men pulled him and Hamlet apart. He recognized them to be medics and wondered how they could have more hope of life than both Horatio and Hamlet combined.
“He has to be alive for that, Horatio,” An older medic tried to soothe and Horatio melted into an instant mess of tears in his arms. He was going to lose Hamlet. He was going to lose his best friend forever. “There, there, child, all will be well,” Horatio felt the medic’s large hand on his chest and didn’t believe him.
*********
Hamlet was alive and in so much pain. Horatio couldn’t bear to sit up against the wall in front of the infirmary any longer for Hamlet’s pained groans rattled too hard in his head. So instead he paced the halls, cursing out Claudius and Laertes and all of Denmark for inflicting such tragedy onto him.
Over the course of their friendship, he had seen Denmark come to know Hamlet as intricately woven of internal suffering—the worst kind. Despite the misconceptions placed on him, Hamlet gave back by fiercely loving Denmark and the rest of the world. He saw every blue patch in a clouded sky, saw beauty in everything that plagued Horatio, even found the fun in his own family turning on him. Something the prince had never mastered was giving himself the same leniency that he gave everything cruel about mankind. He loathed, berated, and doubted himself at every end and Horatio wouldn’t be surprised if Hamlet had caused all this chaos to set off his own death.
It sent a chill down Horatio’s spine as he replayed Hamlet’s soft, accepting smile in his head. Hamlet shielded himself away from all who tried to reach out, yet he opened his arms up for death to take him without hesitance. “Oh, excuse me, sir,” A group of medics tried to walk past Horatio who saw one of them holding a large container. Horatio raised an eyebrow, stopping one of them while the rest carried on going inside.
“Pardon, good madam,” He looked down at her. “What did they carry inside, and, please, how does Hamlet fare?” He asked rapidly, looking at her apologetically once he realized she was getting a bit overwhelmed.
“I do not think I am allowed to tell you, sir, but since you and the Prince are so close, I suppose I can,” She said, more to herself, but Horatio felt his cheeks heat up. He mentally berated himself for feeling this way because there were more important things occuring. “Fortunately, the prince was merely grazed by the rapier, but because his treatment wasn’t immediate it’s proving to be rather difficult now. We were just carrying some leeches inside to try to suck the poison out of him,” She explained and Horatio’s eyes widened. Before he could process the information and ask for more, Hamlet let out a pained shout from inside. “Well, at least he is unconscious now,” She tried to reason but Horatio was breathing heavily.
“M-may I please come in with you? I just need to see him and—” Horatio pleaded, hating the way his voice wavered. He felt even more desperate when she shook her head, but didn’t try arguing with her as he knew it won’t get anywhere. Maybe it was for the best, seeing Hamlet in pain would most likely do him no good. The medic apologized and went inside, leaving Horatio alone with thoughts of Hamlet.
*********
“Make sure you actually finish your work this time, my lord,” Horatio scolded, scoffing when he noticed Hamlet was looking up at the sky instead of listening to him. Their classes had ended for the day and the two were taking a more secluded route back to the student halls. Somehow, Hamlet had found it and always requested that Horatio walk with him. The path was almost nothing but wilderness and Horatio wondered why such unkempt gardens were even at school in the first place.
“There are more stars than usual tonight,” Hamlet said to him. “I have never seen as many of them here—only at Kronborg,” Horatio looked up at the sky only to see a normal amount of stars in the sky. They continued walking, Hamlet somehow avoiding trees and stone benches while stargazing.
“I never noticed the difference, my lord,” Horatio admitted as they stopped once Hamlet looked away from the sky and at him. Hamlet’s eyes flickered to another stone bench and he walked over to it, and Horatio could only follow him. His relationship with Hamlet was strange when Horatio truly gave it thought. In just a few weeks of knowing the prince, Horatio had felt himself getting enveloped by Hamlet’s light rather quickly, to the point where he wasn’t sure if he could ever leave—not that he wanted to.
Hamlet sat down on the bench and Horatio cringed at the moss sticking to his beeches. Hamlet patted the empty spot next on him to beckon Horatio over. “Well, you should come home with me soon, the stars are especially enchanting from my balcony,” Horatio suddenly noticed a hint of melancholy in Hamlet’s voice. “I believe you will love it, friend,” He said with a sigh and Horatio moved a little closer to him, their shoulders brushing.
“It seems like you miss home quite a lot,” Horatio mentioned and Hamlet simply hummed in response. Horatio watched Hamlet's soft features change as the prince continued looking at the stars. He saw nostalgia flash in his eyes and wondered if Hamlet was thinking of someone or if it was just the familiar feeling of home that was on his mind. “When will you go back?” He asked, bringing his arms closer to his chest when the breeze blew particularly hard. It was surprising to see Hamlet shake his head.
“I really love it here—endless knowledge, that one Latin scholar, you,—but I love my family more. I do not believe I am welcomed there at the moment, which makes it all the more tragic,” Hamlet confessed and suddenly Horatio felt the same pain clench him that was plaguing Hamlet. Denmark was wrapping up political conflicts with Norway, of course, the king and his brother wouldn’t want Hamlet there. It was difficult to deal with nonetheless.
Horatio looked for words to say, but struggled, since Hamlet probably wouldn’t appreciate practicality when he was battling through sadness. “It is for the best, though, I suppose,” Hamlet said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than anything else. He gently knocked their knees together, bringing his head down so his chin rested on Horatio’s shoulder. “Will you come with me?”
It took that one whispered question to make Horatio’s entire body freeze up and for once, Hamlet’s light wasn’t enough to warm him. Hamlet was asking Horatio to come with him, asking Horatio to be a part of his world. “Is that allowed, my lord?” He asked, making sure to keep his tone light to mask his nerves. Hamlet simply chuckled, turning away so Horatio’s shoulder bore the full weight of his head.
“I am not sure, but as long as you do not cross paths with my uncle, we should be fine,” Hamlet explained, and Horatio finally laughed along. “Besides, my father and mother do not believe me when I say I can make friends,” He said with a sour tone and Horatio could only fixate on how his name would look in Hamlet’s handwriting. He wondered what the King and Queen thought of him when they read the prince’s letters.
“Well,” Horatio began and freed his arm from between their bodies and brought it up to wrap around Hamlet’s shoulders, feeling a steady heartbeat under his cold palm. “We will just have to prove them wrong, no?” They both chuckled and suddenly the air around them didn’t feel as cold.
“You are right. I can already picture what their faces will look like when I show them that I not only do have a friend, but one as remarkable as The Horatio,” Hamlet mumbled, and Horatio couldn’t bring himself to look at his friend any longer for his smile looked too foolish.
Feeling Hamlet’s heartbeat quicken under his palm didn’t help either.
*********
“Please, sir—” Horatio pleaded for what felt like the hundredth time, only to receive another rejection from the nurse. Any feeling of hopelessness had been replaced by increasing frustration at the medic not understanding his feelings. It didn’t matter, Horatio would fight forever if it meant people would eventually get tired of him and oblige.
This man, however, was not budging, seemingly set on upsetting Horatio. “My apologies, Horatio, but I cannot let you see him. The prince has survived, but he is still ill—hardly in any condition to talk to anyone,” He said in a scolding tone, causing Horatio to huff.
“But, you said he was awake. Why can I not at least see him?” Horatio persisted and the medic sighed in exasperation. “Please, I just—” He cut himself off to find the right words. This medic didn’t understand just how much Horatio needed Hamlet—how much he needed to feel Hamlet breathe. “I do not wish to bring any further annoyance to your day, sir, but, please, find it in your heart to understand. He is my friend. I watched him a-almost die in my arms, and I have not known peace since then. You told me that all will be well, and that will not be possible until I see my friend,” He looked at the medic with determined eyes, masking his relief when he watched the man’s resolve crumble.
He flinched when the man brought his hand to rest against Horatio’s forehead. “Do not worry, I am simply checking for a fever, sometimes they can be caused by stress,” He explained with a fond smile and Horatio hoped his burning cheeks didn’t equate to having a fever. “But, very well,” He said with a sigh, rolling his eyes when Horatio’s face lit up. “If you promise to keep it down and report even the slightest negative turn in his health, then you may go meet him for a short while,” The medic finally cleared the path to the door and Horatio shot him a grateful smile before rushing inside.
The room felt empty, cold, and if Horatio didn’t know better, lifeless. Several candles lit up the place, framing Hamlet’s resting figure as nothing more than a ghost. Surprisingly, Horatio hesitated to walk forward and reach out, too scared of Hamlet’s reaction.
The prince could be disappointed in Horatio for his sinful attempted suicide. Hamlet could turn away, deeming himself too tired for the bothersome Horatio. He could be drowning in melancholy—too deep for Horatio to pull him out. Subconsciously, Horatio let out a sigh to punctuate his dilemma and, to his surprise, he watched Hamlet perk up and try to look up.
Maybe, Hamlet could just be happy to see his friend. Hopefully.
“My lord,” Horatio calls out when Hamlet puts his head back on the pillow, receiving nothing but an unenthusiastic hum. He cleared his throat, actually stepping forward and walking towards the bed. “Hamlet,” He said again, smiling when the prince did lift up his head and met Horatio’s eyes.
“Horatio,” Hamlet let out, his voice beyond hoarse but it was music to Horatio’s ears. “Horatio!” He said louder, energetically sitting up and reaching for the man. Horatio walked faster, letting Hamlet engulf him in a hug and squeezing him back tighter. “I have been waiting for you, friend, ever since I regained consciousness. I kept asking, but I do not think the medics understood me. I was calculating when you would show up and I believe I’ve got it to about—” Hamlet spoke loudly until Horatio shushed him with a smile, pressing his finger against Hamlet’s lips.
“My dear lord, I promised to not make so much noise. The medics will exile me if we are to be too loud,” He said through a chuckle, pulling Hamlet into another hug. “I am so happy to see you,” He confessed, mumbling to hide the waver in his voice. Hamlet pulled back from him, looking up with a slight surprise on his face.
“You are?”
It was a wonder why Hamlet was even asking. Apparently, Horatio was not as apparent about his admiration as he had thought, or his friend was just dense. “Utterly delighted, my lord,” Horatio confirmed. “You still seem weary. Do you not think I would mourn you?” He asked with a light tone but hoped that Hamlet could believe his earnest words.
“You wouldn’t have any reason to,” Hamlet looked away for the first time and Horatio already missed his warm eyes trained on him.
“Then you do not know me at all, Hamlet,” That made Hamlet look back at him with wide eyes. His stunned expression quickly transformed into a mischievous one as he grinned at Horatio.
“Nay, I think I know my best friend very well,” he rolled his eyes as Horatio moved to rest on his knees so that his chin was now resting on Hamlet’s chest. “But it is good to know that I was wrong. Had you drunk the poison, I would have been the same,” Hamlet said sadly, running his fingers through Horatio’s hair who simply hummed. He cleared his throat again. “Everyone else has died—I do not think I would be able to live if you had as well,” Hamlet sniffled and Horatio felt it in his bones, feeling the sudden urge to hold Hamlet and never let go.
“If we were to be separated, it would not be me who leaves you, my sweet prince,” Horatio whispered and Hamlet scoffed just as quietly.
“That incorrectly implies that I would leave you, then. Turns out you do not know me at all either, Horatio,” Hamlet teased, making the other roll his eyes. They both chuckled, the sounds ricocheting off the large, cold walls.
“Makes us pretty incompetent friends,” Horatio hummed, making Hamlet scoff. “How do thou fare now, my prince?” Horatio asked, sighing at the soothing feeling of Hamlet’s fingers running through his hair. He wished they could stay like this forever, simply existing alongside one another.
“I am well,” Hamlet answered quietly, gently scratching Horatio’s scalp. “I am,” He said again, rising in pitch and making Horatio look up. Horatio moved away from Hamlet, standing up to sit on the bed and look down at the prince. Hamlet’s head was turned to the right and Horatio could see just how glossy his eyes had become.
“Hamlet, how doth thee truly fare?” Horatio asked, gripping Hamlet’s hand.
“I- we are alone now, Horatio,” Hamlet finally confessed, his words engulfed by an aching heavinesses that Horatio somehow completely understood. “All I have felt since my father…was killed is sadness. Songs of tragedy have gotten stuck in my head, I have felt drunk on melancholia, and I—” He cut himself off, swallowing a lump in his throat and looking back at Horatio. “I tried so hard, Horatio,” His voice cracked as Hamlet said his name. “I tried to move on, but I couldn’t. So I did what I thought was best—what I thought would help me feel happier. Instead, I slipped further and further and brought everyone down with me. I am alone and I am so hysterically sad,” He finished and all Horatio could do was stare into his tear eyes. He looked away, unsure of how to comfort Hamlet.
The man that everyone wanted Hamlet to be was now a little boy, shuddering as he searched Horatio’s eyes for guidance. Horatio opened his mouth to say whatever jumped to his tongue first but Hamlet got first. “Because no one I love has ever loved me back,” He whispered, punctuating his heartbreak with a sigh.
Horatio couldn’t give guidance anymore, but he could give reassurance.
“I love you,” He whispered back, looking away when Hamlet’s eyes widened. “I really do,” Horatio repeated, firmer. The confession flowed out of him with such ease that a bystander may have believed them to be centuries old lovers. Before he could dwell on the possible ramifications of his words, Hamlet was shooting him a watery smile.
“I love you too…,” Hamlet trailed off, returning Horatio’s confession with such earnestness that he couldn’t help but believe it. “...my friend,” He finished even quieter. That shot a slight sting all over Horatio’s body, latching onto his skin and forming a web of an unreasonable type of rejection—but Horatio chose to pay it no mind.
“Then you stand corrected, my lord,” Horatio gripped both his shoulders and locked eyes with him. “Someone you love does indeed love you back,” He said slowly, praying for Hamlet to understand.
Hamlet blinked up at him, and Horatio waited for a response in silence. Instead, tears pooled Hamlet’s eyes and he sniffled. Horatio let out a startled squeak when Hamlet suddenly pulled him in for a hug, squeezing his torso and burying his face into the crook of Horatio’s neck. “Oh, sir, how I love you so! I do beyond expression, my Horatio. You are all I have and I cannot describe in words how good it feels to be loved back,” Hamlet rushed out and Horatio let out a wet chuckle.
They loved each other so differently.
Horatio gently shushed him again, chuckling when Hamlet scoffed. “Here, I shall whisper it to you,” Hamlet said in a rare, child-like way. He cupped Horatio’s face, pulling him closer so their foreheads touched. “I love thee as well—more even, I can dare to argue,” Hamlet whispered. “There, no need to worry about upsetting the medics,”
Horatio rolled his eyes, but not without a fond smile on his face, moving away “They will be upset regardless if I am to be seen here at night. They should be getting you dinner very soon, it is best if I take my leave,” He said and Hamlet only gripped his hand tighter. “Do not worry, Hamlet, I promise that I will come to see you first thing in the morning. You need your rest,” Horatio brought up his hand to feel Hamlet’s temperature.
“Will you truly come back?” Hamlet asked quietly, knitting his eyebrows together.
“Of course,” Hamlet looked up at him hesitantly. “Is there something you desire?”
“No, I…I would just like to talk to you some more. I wish to say so many things to you…,” He trailed off when the door opened, revealing a servant carrying some food in for Hamlet. “…But I guess I can wait till tomorrow,” He finally resigned, making Horatio smile and squeeze his hand.
“I will listen intently,” He promised and Hamlet’s smile finally brought a glow to his face.
“Tomorrow morning. I shall wait for thee,” Horatio nodded in response, standing up as the woman poured Hamlet’s goblet with water in silence. He moved aside, returning her smile and watching Hamlet drink the water and return the cup. As some medics shuffled into the room to check up on him, Horatio moved out of the way but Hamlet's eyes never left him.
“Good night, my sweet prince,” Horatio said and Hamlet nodded with a wide smile. Once Hamlet’s attention was pulled away by the nurse trying to feed him, Horatio turned around and began walking towards the door. As he walked the hallways, he noticed just how wide the castle walls were for the first time.