Story [Hamlet] In My Memory Locked (Ophelia/Hamlet; romance, drama) COMPLETED 08/11

Jade_eyes
Thanks! The part with Sir Edward (*cough* and I unabashedly admit that I named Sir Edward "Edward" to make fun of Twilight *cough* ) was a ton of fun to write. I'm very happy that you love my version of Ophelia! Though... fate is an unfortunate thing... let's not think about that right now, shall we?


... I forgot to update! I forgot to update! [/panicked Idri voice] And this time I don't even have a reason!

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[blockquote][i]VIII. Loss [/i][/blockquote]

My revenge against Sir Edward ruffles the court for a few weeks at the most, but eventually the nest of nobles becomes enthralled with greater gossip that has little to do with me. I am left in peace, though Adelaide and Fernanda hound me for the inner details as to why I turned down Sir Edward. They believe it proof that I have a secret lover to whom I will remain faithful. They eventually cease asking me questions when I tell them that Sir Edward is a vile man and exaggerate greatly on the details I retrieved from him.

I never reveal to my friends that their beliefs were the truth, let alone that my secret lover is the prince of Denmark.

As the high tides of summer fall, the leaves begin to change colour and autumn comes upon us, dispelling the warm weather we have long enjoyed. Our rides and walks become less frequent, even though I do enjoy the fantastically bright colours of the trees.

Autumn brings with it a period of melancholy. Perhaps it is because I hate seeing nature put to rest for winter?s ice and snow, but my mind tells me that it is because one full year has passed since Hamlet departed for Wittenberg and he has not yet returned.

The freedom of summer made our correspondences merry. I told him the tales of my adventures with Adelaide and Fernanda, and relating all the troubles I had desisting the advances of ungainly suitors like Sir Edward. His responses were always good-natured; he found my stories delightful. In return, he wrote of his own adventures around the university, his discoveries in texts he happened upon, and of his friends there. In his final letter to me before the leaves began to change, he wrote:

[i]I see you have taken my wish for you to be young at heart to ? if this poor pun can be excused as a lamentable use of language ? heart. I am glad that your summer days have been so jovial. I promise you now that I will be there with you at the next summer festival, where we can mock the pettiness of our fellow courtiers to our hearts? content, so long as it amuses us and does not make us horrible, horrible people.[/i]

I took it to mean that he would be returning to Elsinore soon. Indeed, near the end of the letter he admitted that the university had little else it could provide him and that perhaps it was time for him to consider politics over philosophies. I have yet to reply to that letter, as I wish to catch as much of autumn?s beauty before the bitterly cold weather forces me indoors. However, I have grown weary of adventuring by myself and when Adelaide and Fernanda refuse my invitations, I find other ways to spend my time. So though it is only mid-afternoon on a sleepy autumn day, I find myself in my room, pen in hand and ink staining my fingers as my hand glides across a sheet of rough parchment.

[i]I apologize for the lateness in my response. There are only so few days left in which I can comfortably adventure outside and I sought to use them wisely. It is very quiet here in these days; sometimes it seems as though the castle itself is asleep.

I myself am too exhilarated for sleep. I will hold you to your promise made in your last letter. Come summer, we shall dance and mock the petty fools of the court. Petty fools? perhaps it is some of my innocence shining through, but I do feel some guilt in calling them that even though, with an objective eye, that is how they behave. My friends are among the ?petty fools? of the court and though Adelaide and Fernanda can be very foolish, I love them dearly for all their mistakes. Frivolous fools would be a better title, I think, than pet

 

I was so thrilled at the prospect of she and Hamlet meeting again then the shocking announcement!!! This changes everything! Suddenly! Permanently!!

 

Shocking post!! Poor Hamlet (both of them). Wow, things are going to change. Hopefully Ophelia can be there for Hamlet!!

 

Jade_eyes
It's kind of like the tipping point, eh? Unfortunately, we knew it was coming...


Nat
Is it still shocking you the second time round, oh beta mine?

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[blockquote][i]IX. Bittersweet[/i][/blockquote]

The castle mourns. It seems strange to say that a majestic complex of towers and turrets can mourn, but in the passing of a king, anything is possible. Even the weather seems to mourn, as we have had nothing but cloud, cold winds and rain since the king?s death.

The funeral preparations are in order to lay the king in his final resting place. Messengers have gone out. The prince has been called back from Wittenberg.

This is not the way I would have chosen for our reunion to occur.

Father has sent for Laertes; he will return from France. Another bittersweet reunion that is in store for me.

Prince Claudius has quickly taken control of the affairs of state. His right to the throne has been given to the council who decides such things. Were Hamlet here, his name would also be under consideration? Alas, he is not here and thus duties fall to Prince Claudius alone. Denmark is an elective monarchy. I do not fully understand how such things work, but what I know is this: for the time being, Prince Claudius is in charge.

Silence has overtaken Elsinore as if we were haunted by some paranormal force. I cannot explain it; perhaps it is grief playing tricks on the mind, I have no seen Adelaide or Fernanda for days; they have confined themselves to their rooms, claiming to be ill, or so I heard. I cannot rest. I cannot think. There is little for me to do, for whenever I set about accomplishing a task, my mind cannot settle for it and I abandon it for something else.

I find myself pacing the empty halls and corridors, listening to the echo of my footsteps on the flagstones. I find the window that I was so fond of gazing out of when I first came to this place. From it, you can see the whole of the rugged landscape stretching out for miles in quiet majesty. I perch myself by the window and stare at the horizon, but no thoughts come to me. My mind is blank.

?Lady Ophelia??

My eyes snap open. I had not realized they were shut. I slip down from my seat and look at my speaker. It is a young girl, one of Gertrude?s newest maids.

?Yes??

?The queen wishes to see you in her quarters,? she says, curtseying clumsily. She is very young, almost too young to be a maid, and obviously thrilled to be playing messenger.

?Very well,? I say. ?Thank you.?

I take off down the hall, the maid following. I tell her as gently as I can that I know the way and that she does not need to guide me. My words sting her a little, but I do not care. I wish to be alone for as long as I can manage, but I cannot refuse the summons of a queen, just as I cannot refuse to the summons of a grieving friend.

Oh, what is wrong with me? I do not understand this depression that has plagued me since the king?s death.

?Ophelia,? Gertrude greets me warmly when I arrive. She sweeps me into an embrace and invites me in.

Her quarters are lavish and warm. There is a fire crackling in her hearth. At her request, I sit on one of the elegantly decorated couches by the fire, resting my weary feet.

?You look tired,? Gertrude says.

I nod. ?I am restless. I have walked this castle from hall to hall and yet I cannot find peace for myself.?

Gertrude bows her head. ?Strange times follow the death of a king,? she says quietly.

?The country mourns,? I say, my fingers fiddling with the skirt of my black gown, ?yet all I can do myself is feel? distracted. My father?s tasks are endless, yet I, his daughter, cannot commit to any task.?

Gertrude purses her lips. ?The feeling will pass,? she says gently. ?Such is the way of grief. We all grieve in our own way.?

I look at her, meeting her eyes. ?I would rather not have sensed it at all.?

Gertrude sighs sadly. ?The living pass on. Such is the way of life the Lord has given us. Someday you will learn to accept it with greater ease.?

?Is that why you do not wee

 

Well, no, not so much the second time

Gertrude is coming off a bit smarmy here. Not mourning her husband? Yeah, 'cause she has the hots for his brother . . .

 

My apologies for the late reply; I was away on a hiking trip in China for the past week.

Chapter VII, Dance, was delightful - it was wonderful to see Ophelia showing Sir Edward some spunk and teaching him his place. In the next chapter, I was enjoying the exchange of letters between Hamlet and Ophelia and looking forward to Hamlet's return when the news of the King's death was announced...indeed, that changes everything, and the story we know is just about to begin. A bittersweet reunion it will be, indeed - far more bitter than sweet...

So Ophelia does find Gertrude's behaviour a little strange? I wonder if she will notice anything about Claudius' too...

Lovely, lovely updates!

 

Very excellent blending there of Ophelia's insightfulness with Gertrude's lack of mourning and her deflection with her father about her brother's return and what she is actually grieving.

 

Nat
Oi, don't fight the canon. There's always an explanation for things, smarminess included ... oh wait... oh no! Now you're making me think of Gertrude's perspective... darn it. Nat, you make me get way too many ideas.


Valiowk
Ooh! China! That's super cool! I hope your trip was excellent. The Sir Edward scene was a ton of fun to write. Not to mention a necessary break in atmosphere from the rest of the story! Glad you liked it. If Ophelia keeps her head straight, she'll probably start figuring things out before long... after all, she's hiding her own secrets and that may very well make her more perceptive of other people who are also hiding secrets.


Jade_eyes
Thanks! I finding characters set in more political settings are very interesting to write - they're all hiding stuff, but they all have to act like they're not hiding stuff, so you have this balance between the truth and the lies and what's real and what's not. It's fun. Especially when characters have to dodge questions.

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[blockquote][i]X. Reunion [/i][/blockquote]

I find my recent mood intolerable. I cannot take this depression any longer, even though the castle thrusts it upon us. Today, I seek out an escape. I head to the library, where I wish to encase myself in the written word and lose myself to my imagination.

The library is empty when I arrive, as it often is. I walk among the shelves like a ghost until I force myself to select tomes at random. I pull several from the shelves and settle by the window. I reach for the first one and blow dust from its cover.

It seems no one reads these books but me.

It is a tome of tales, many of them familiar to me as they are versions of stories I heard verbally when growing up. I force myself to become lost in them, but it takes work as my mind refuses to accept the words written on the page. So stubborn am I that I force myself to ignore the commotion that takes place within the courtyard sometime in the late morning, even though the library windows overlook it.

Time passes. My eyes are bleary. I am sure I have missed luncheon, but strangely, I am not famished. I realize that I have been staring at the same page for more than five minutes at least. My mind pleads with me to go do something else ? even listening to Adelaide?s gossip ? but I persist. I am stubborn.

?Beautiful is the lady who does persist in her studies while those who surround her mourn,? a soft voice behind me says.

I snap out of my stupor. I raise my head, hardly daring to believe it. One year since I heard that voice, one year? am I sure I recognize it?

?Alas,? I say, ?I am stubborn and hope to succeed, even though my mind does not agree with me.? I rise to my feet and turn ? and there he is, standing several paces away, dressed plainly in black. I feel as though I could fly; yet I stay here, feet firmly planted to the library?s floor. I do not know how I should act. Part of me wants to run and embrace him, another part wants to stand and stare at him. It has been so long since I last saw him. I realize with a jolt that I have forgotten details of what he looks like, even as they are renewed before my eyes.

I stand foolishly, rooted to the ground, my eyes drawn to his face, my heart pounding in my chest. I do not know if I want to laugh or cry, or both. Not knowing what else to do, I curtsey.

?My lord.?

He laughs, but there is a bittersweet sound to it. He crosses the distance between us and gently raises my chin with his fingers so that our eyes meet.

?None of that,? he says, kissing my cheek. He softly threads his fingers through a loose lock of my hair and kisses my other cheek. ?Today I am many things before a prince,? he whispers in my ear.

His hands move to my back and he draws me close. I throw my arms around his neck and my lips find his. I am lost in my joy as he kisses me ? joy that he is here again, joy that I may see him and touch him, joy that my heart never thought I could know. Before I know it, the tears I have held back since

 

Sweet reunion -- I hope it lasts a longer time than a night or two!!

I am very glad Hamlet's affections have not diminished.

 

The trip was wonderful - the scenery was magnificent and the weather was extremely cooperative.

Oh, the reunion we'd all been looking forward to, except that everything is wrong, wrong, wrong, as we sense from Ophelia's confusion as to how to react. At least Hamlet is still all right for now. And the message on the parchment - so sweet! Though, I can't help but wonder - is this night the night when everything shall start? How I wish our lovers could have a little bit more time to themselves without any cares...

Great work!

 

Nat, you make me get way too many ideas.

Well, I am your Muse


Awww, so sweet!! I'm glad Hamlet's back, even for the sad occasion, and that he and Ophelia are still together.

 

Jade_eyes
Anything to please the Queen of Mush. Castles and their strange social scenes provide... interesting options.


Valiowk
Yes, you have to wonder how things would have turned out if they were reunited in any other situation. I couldn't resist the bit with the parchment -- they've both spent so much time writing to each other that it's kind of symbolic for them. This is possibly the beginning of everything unraveling... but there's still some time before we hit the start of the play. If you read Hamlet carefully, you'll know that it's been about a month and half between his father's death and the grand opening in I-ii with the Claudius/Gertrude wedding/coronation event, etc. Strangely, it also says that Old Hamlet's funeral happens only a few days before the wedding which kickstarts the play... so you can imagine my confusion in trying to get the story to lead up to two things to happen in a way that makes sense with Old Hamlet's death occurring over a month before his official funeral. Thank you, Mr. Shakespeare, for not really having a clear timeline.

But I digress. Who pays attention to timelines anyway?


Nat
Yes, you are my Officially Official Muse.

And out of great sadness can come great happiness...? I think I'm starting to make stuff up now.


Ooh! Who forgot to update yesterday? ME! Oops. Well, I better do that now before the thunderstorm causes our power to go out.

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[blockquote][i]XI. Change[/i][/blockquote]

I am rosy when dawn wakes me with its gentle golden light. Knowing that I must return to my quarters before it is discovered that I am gone, I try to convince myself to rise from the bed, but I have an overpowered desire to lie there, content, for the time being.

No. I must go. There will be other mornings where I can stay where I am.

I sit up slowly, the sheets twisting around me. I look to my right and smile to myself. He remains asleep, his expression calmed by slumber. So peaceful, so tranquil? Why can it not always be so simple?

?Ophelia?? He murmurs my name but does not wake.

?I am here, dear one,? I murmur gently, stroking his hair with my fingers. ?As I always shall be. Say the word and I shall be there.?

I kiss his forehead and slip quietly from the bed. I move about the room, collecting my garments and re-dressing myself. When I am finished, I return to the bed and sit quietly beside him.

?Good morrow, sweet prince,? I murmur in his ear.

He stirs, but does not wake.

I laugh quietly to myself and rise from my spot. As I make to leave, I feel him gently catch my arm with his hand. I turn back to him and a breath of surprise escapes me as he presses his lips to mine.

?Good morrow, dearest one.?

?I must go,? I say softly.

He kisses me again. ?I know.?

?I should go,? I say, but I do not leave.

?I know.?

I kiss his cheek and slide off the bed. ?Farewell, Hamlet.?

He lies back in his pillows. ?Farewell.?

As I cross the room, I hear his voice call out to me.

?Ophelia!?

I turn.

?Thank you,? he says.

?I must go.?

He nods.

I burst into laughter, curtsey mockingly, and depart.

Once I am back in my own rooms, I hurriedly undress and throw myself into my own bed. When my maid Catherine comes to tell me it is time to rise, it is as if I had spent the night here instead of elsewhere. As I ready myself for the day, I remember my ways from the previous year. It is a difficult deception to maintain when there are so many eyes watching, but it is well worth the price.

That morning, I am accompanied by Adelaide and Fernanda. Gertrude has no need for us ? she still has much business to attend to dealing with the affairs of state, especially since Hamlet has now returned. We sit in my rooms, working on our needlework to keep our fingers busy, enjoying each other?s company as we have been absent from each other for many the day.

?You look positively cheerful, Ophelia,? Fernanda says. ?What has changed so suddenly??

Adelaide looks at me eagerly. I smile to myself an

 

Great balance here -- the sweet gentleness at the beginning -- the teasing of Ophelia and her friends followed by the warm reunion with Laertes and then the "election" of Cladius --

Hamlet undoubtedly suspects a blatant usurpation and Ophelia too is uneasy why the firstborn's right of accession should be overstepped.

 

I see our lovers had a wonderful night together.

Interesting reunion with Laertes--both Ophelia and her brother are reluctant to go too much into details about their deepest thoughts, preferring to converse about a general topic instead. I wonder if they will be able to confide in each other more freely later on?

And oh! It certainly sounds as though an usurpation is taking place here. No wonder Hamlet is furious and Ophelia is suspicious... I wonder if Laertes' answer is reflective of the attitude of the rest of the courtiers who burst into applause...

 

I love the sweet beginning And then, oh snap! Hamlet does not seem happy (and he shouldn't be)! Claudius is not cool here . . .

Great post!!

 

Jade_eyes
Thanks! I'm always trying to find the right balance between the mix of characters and tones here. Glad you liked it!


Valiowk
Aha - I think they did.

I think because the two have grown up with such a nosy father (Polonius seriously has trouble keeping his nose out of other people's business), they both don't know exactly what is going to be said to him in the end. Ophelia will do everything she can to dance around the subject and Laertes has his own secrets, too. I guess fear of what their father could learn is what's keeping them in-check here.


Nat
Do you ever think Claudius is cool? Though I have seen many a cool Claudius in productions, including one memorable one where he was the hero and Hamlet was the villain. Talk about open interpretation.


... and I actually managed to update on time this Sunday! Yay!

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[blockquote][i]XII. Nightfall[/i][/blockquote]

The castle is ablaze in preparations. The funeral of a king and the coronation of another takes time, energy and resources. Though King Hamlet has already been interred in a small service held only for members of the royal family, there is still the state funeral to attend to. My father is busily overseeing much of the business as possible ? he is to be King Claudius? Lord Chamberlain now, just one of many things the king is to inherit from his late brother.

It has been several days since my father addressed the court. I have tried to speak to Hamlet but I am unable to find him. I am concerned; I seem to be the only one who took note of his expression that evening ? not even Gertrude noticed ? and I sense there may be something terribly wrong.

Later today, I discover that it seems that no one has seen or spoken to the prince since King Claudius? coronation was announced. The servants whisper that he will not leave his quarters. Having heard this, I know there is but one more thing to try. Even though it is now of a late hour and I know it will look suspicious to those watching me, I convince myself to seek out the prince in his own apartments. In the event that word reaches my father of this, I will come up with a logical explanation then. I do not have time to worry about my father?s reactions now.

A manservant opens the door for me and I tell him that I wish to speak to the prince. After a moment, I am ushered inside and the servant departs.

Hamlet sits by his hearth, looking pale and tired. There are dark bags beneath his half-closed eyes and his black clothing is rumpled. There is a stale smell about the place.

?What has become of you??

His head lolls on his shoulders and his eyes open. ?Ask wretched providence that takes first my father from me and second my throne.? His voice is hollow and hoarse, and some of his words are slurred. From the way he speaks, I have a strong suspicion he has been drinking.

I look at him in horror; I have never seen him like this. I move to his side and take his hands in mind. ?Do not say that,? I tell him. He looks away, unable to meet my gaze. ?Do not blame providence for what should and should not have happened! It is something beyond your control.?

?I should be allowed to control my own fate,? he says dejectedly, speaking to the stone walls. His fingers clench around mine. ?I am a prince, am I not??

?No man controls providence,? I state flatly. ?Fate is God?s dominion, one which we may not cross. Any man who could control fate would be a terrible monster. We must live, and live as happily as we can, no matter what happens to us along the long and winding road. Did you not once say that to me??

He scowls. He seems to have lost most of my words. ?Damn God?s dominion, then, for I have no wish to longer be a part of it!?

?My lord!? I exclaim, shocked.

His grip on my fingers relaxes and he raises a hand to his face. ?I apologize, Ophelia,? he says, ?I am being unreasonable. Forgive me.?

I sigh. ?Why do you deny your birthright??

He looks at me for a long time, his eyes unblinking. The effect is unnerving. ?It is not mine to c

 

Well, true. I never think Claudius is cool

Poor Hamlet!! I'm glad Ophelia is there to comfort him

 

how wonderful and moving and intense!!!!!



Ophelia's compassion, his rage and regret and insights I think into the true nature of things between his mother and "Uncle" Claud

Or is that Clod.

 

Poor Hamlet! It's apparent how deeply recent events have affected him. I'm just glad that Ophelia is by his side to offer him support and comfort at this moment.

While I'm glad that Hamlet got to read Ophelia's last letter to him, some of its words must have seemed terribly ironic to him at this moment : But I can see what you do not, and I tell you now you will be one of Denmark?s greatest leaders. [...] You shall make a fine king, my lord, and once you return to Elsinore perhaps you will see it for yourself.

I see you came up with a reasonable explanation as to how Old Hamlet's official funeral could occur over a month after his death!

Lovely update! Looking forward to reading more, even if the story starts becoming tragic after this point...

 

Nat
Hmm...

Proof that Claudius is awesome even though Hamlet is completely screwing with their minds. Claudius does catch on, though, and he's not impressed. (Although that could just be proof that Derek Jacobi is awesome, which really, we already knew ).

Agh, why did I link to that scene? It's the one scene in the entire play that I've analyzed the most. Whenever I hear its lines, my head starts to hurt.

Poor Hamlet!! I'm glad Ophelia is there to comfort him

Aww, look, you're all mushy now.


Jade_eyes
Thank you!

Uncle Clod is AWESOME. I shall refer to him in my notes as Clod from now on. If I ever get a chance to direct this play, I shall call him Clod.


Valiowk
The irony was on purpose, believe me. I had them exchange another set of letters before he came back to Elsinore, but then I decided to bump up Old Hamlet's death so I could have the irony.

Yes! I found a satisfactory reason. Otherwise it would have bothered me until I went crazy.

The turning point... well... it could be now, it could be later. It's up to you to decide when things turn tragic.


Thanks for reading, everyone!

 

XIII. Question

Having never been married, I have never had the misfortune of losing a husband. However, in seeing how Hamlet grieves for his father and after hearing his enraged words about his mother, I cannot understand Gertrude?s behaviour. I do not dare criticize a queen, but I have been thinking much about her condition and for a recent widow she is positively rosy. She gathers her ladies-in-waiting to her like a mother hen and we feast on courtly gossip in her apartments. Though she dons deepest black, her garb is decorated with a rainfall of new jewels and she acts as though she were wearing any other colour.

Gertrude is merry, laughing with us and telling us stories of her own, ones that delight minds such as Adelaide?s. It is as if the queen has forgotten all her years married to King Hamlet.

I long to ask her about it. None of the others are suspicious, save Adelaide and Fernanda, and that may be either because they are nosier than the others or my current attitude has begun to inspire them.

?I think the queen is in love,? Adelaide says giddily, bouncing up and down. It is early in the evening and we are alone for once.

?Have you noticed her new jewels?? Fernanda says. ?The white diamond pendant she had fastened around her neck??

?Of course I noticed, I helped her put it on,? Adelaide interrupts.

?I wish I had something that fine,? Fernanda sighs longingly.

?Oh, who cares?? Adelaide snaps. ?It?s always jewels this and jewels that with you, Fernanda!?

?It is not!? Fernanda retorts.

Adelaide flounces her hair. ?You do too!? she shoots back.

I cannot help but roll my eyes at the two of them and their argument ? they are being endearingly ridiculous.

?Why can?t you see past all the glitz and glamour?? Adelaide continues, grating Fernanda for all she is worth.

Fernanda?s eyes flash dangerously. ?Because I am a noble woman and not a peasant girl!? she retorts, holding her head high.

Adelaide raises an eyebrow. ?Sir Edward would wish that you were,? she says coyly.

They both glance at me and the three of us cannot help but burst into laughter. Sir Edward had never recovered from the blow I had dealt him in the summer. Though it was commonly known he had been making eyes at Fernanda, everyone knew that he would not succeed even in speaking to her.

The laughter dies down. We have lost much of the inspiration for humour since the king?s death and winter?s onset.

Adelaide lounges in her chair, her legs thrown indecently over its arms as she chews on her thumbnail in silence. ?I think,? she announces after a moment, ?that even if the queen were a peasant girl, she would look the same.?

?Adelaide!? Fernanda exclaims. ?What a horrid thing to say! Do not let anyone hear you say it!?

?Not horrid!? Adelaide protests before Fernanda has even finished speaking. ?A? round-about compliment, I believe. The queen is in love.?

?This again?? Fernanda says. Even though her words imply a worn-out topic for gossip, her curious expression betrays her. ?The queen in love? So soon after the old king?s death? Isn?t it a trite indecent even to consider such a thing??

?I believe the queen is in love,? I say quietly.

My friends turn to me, shocked.

?Why, Ophelia!?

?I thought you would never suggest such a thing!?

?Wait!? Adelaide sits up straight in her chair. ?She recognizes the queen?s symptoms because she has them herself!? She points at me triumphantly. ?Proof that Ophelia has a secret lover!?

?You never give up, do you?? I say unenthusiastically.

Adelaide smiles like an angel.

?The queen is in love?? Fernanda asks.

?I believe so,? I say.

?How do we go about proving it?? Adelaide asks eagerly.

?We don?t,? I tell her firmly. ?I do. The queen is? more friend than majesty to me. I shall simply ask her myself.?

?Will you tell us what she says??

?That depends on her answer, Adelaide.?

I am not going to spread the queen?s secrets for her, but I have to know for sure. Hamlet thinks his mother and uncle?s connection is closer than grieving widow and comforting brothe

 

I sent in noms already And yes Idri -- great little note there at the end LOL -- I wanted to nominate this fic of yours and indeed had to modify that part of the nomination PM.




~~

Fernanda and Adelaide never quit

Wow, so Gertrude is in love, actually!!! Maybe she was in love before her prior husband passed on?

 

Lovely mention of Sir Edward again - a welcome touch of humour in an otherwise more solemn piece.

To a certain extent, I understand Gertrude's desire to live life by her own rules and pity her for being stuck in a situation where any show of her feelings would be disapproved of, but at the same time I cannot help but feel that it is disrespectful of her to be acting so merrily even before King Hamlet's official funeral...

Lovely chapter that tackles this issue without siding with any party!

 

Jade_eyes
And you haven't been the only one, actually. Even though the noms can't count, I still feel honoured. Thanks.

Fernanda and Adelaide are fun. Actually, yes, they are fun to write. I'm glad I chose to introduce them, though at the moment they're still a little on the one-dimensional side.

Actually, some people debate as to whether a) Claudius forced Gertrude to marry him, b) Gertrude married him to stay in power as queen, or c) she really did love him, most likely before her old husband passed on. I'm taking option (c) as it makes her realization of Claudius' betrayal all the more powerful and her betrayal of him in the last scene of the play an excellent piece of drama (I think she figured out the wine was poisoned and when Claudius told her not to drink, she drank it anyway just to defy him). But I'm getting ahead of myself here.


Valiowk
Everything needs a little humour. I dislike stories that don't have at least some comic relief in them. I do find it a little unrealistic if everything is solemn and unhumorous because I think it's natural for humans to cope with issues by using humour, whether it's appropriate to or not. In our studio classes, our teachers are always telling us to find the humour in the scene, even if it's dead serious and angsty.

It's disrespectful of Gertrude, certainly, but I think part of her can't help it, especially if she fell out of love with the King long before he died. She's selfish in that way, but not everyone is perfect - certainly not royalty.

Thanks for reading, everyone!

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[blockquote][i]XIV. Burden [/i][/blockquote]

The days pass slowly for me, even though every other courtier is abuzz with excitement. Winter is has come, blanketing the world in snowy white, but the court refuses to submit to the ice and cold. Instead, the castle is as warm and bright as it is in the summertime. One could describe it as festive.

I am not preoccupied with festivities.

My time is now divided in three ? with Gertrude, with Adelaide and Fernanda, and with Hamlet. All the while, I mull over the complexities of the royal family: Hamlet?s love for me, Gertrude?s supposed love for her brother-in-law, the growing rift between loving mother and son. I have not yet said anything to the prince about his mother?s words to me. I know that they will only cause brooding, which he does enough of. I seem to be one of few who cares for this melancholy symptom, and I would not like to aggravate it.

Gertrude?s revelation weighs heavily on my mind. The more I think of it, the more the knowledge of her love for King Claudius becomes apparent. Soon, I begin to wonder how I could not have seen it before. Still, I keep my lips sealed. I must ? out of respect for the queen, and out of fear for Hamlet?s reaction. However, the more time I spend with him, the more I know I cannot keep this secret from him. His suspicions about his mother have long been in place. Part of me knows that I must tell him and confirm it, out of respect for him.

Who do I respect more? The man I love, or my queen, who has been a good friend to me this past year?

I fear it may just drive me mad if I cannot decide.

Laertes comes searching for me. I have not seen him in days and my absence has concerned him. I have missed my brother, but I have been preoccupied with more trying matters recently.

?What trying matters?? he inquires as we walk through the halls, castle-bound by a heavy snowfall outside.

I sigh. I cannot tell him, and it is yet another thing I must keep secret from him. I have been shaded in lies ever since our reunion; I do not like it, but it is for the better. How many burdens I am forced to carry in these days.

?Matters of a womanly kind.?

?Oh.?

I know that I have chosen the right words as his interest immediately fails.

?I only ask, Sister,? he says, ?because I am concerned for your well-being.?

?You have nothing to be concerned about, Laertes,? I tell him. ?I am in good hands here and live a good l

 

I am so glad she told him. If he ever found out some other way and then discovered she knew all along it'd feel like a betrayal.