Chapter Text
Everything aches when I wake up. I don’t know how long I lay in my hurt, wallowing in it, before I finally manage to rise in order to examine myself in the mirror. My hand is sticky with blood. Yet even that discomforting horror is washed away when I catch sight of my bare chest in the mirror.
Where before there was nothing but unblemished skin and hair, there is now a horizontal scar on my chest. White and faded, as if it had been there for years. I grab a rag to wipe clean my hand, desperately trying to figure out a way in which I can explain this wound when I am asked about it. Only Fortinbras would know it was not there previously, but hopefully he was too drunk to pay that close of attention last night.
It once again occurs to me that I could flee Elsinore. Buy a house in England and just drink the rest of my life away. This prospect is quite tantalizing. However there are a number of problems in that plan, namely the fact that even if I managed to escape Elsinore, Fortinbras will most certainly have me brought back. Not to hear about the schemes that came before him, we’re well beyond that now. He would bring me back so that I don’t kill myself, because he gives a damn if I live or die. Him and Marina both.
What did I do to deserve that?
In the sobering light of day, I am beginning to realize that I really don’t understand the first bit of what is really going on when I tumble through the mirror. It was foolish to write the stranger off as a hallucination. Now I can’t help but fear that he had been watching me every single time I went back. It seems I have gained a shadow of my own, and a strange one at that. Only the timbre of his voice me leads me to believe that he is a man, given that his face is always hidden by his hood.
He wasn’t in Elsinore before, of that I am certain. Despite the unnatural way in which he moved, and the fact that you could not see him, I am certain the stranger is a living man. But why was he there in the church?
“I doubt he’s God,” I say to myself. “Nor the devil or one of his demons, why else would he have been kind to me in the dungeon? Devils can quote scripture as easily as man though, so kindness doesn’t mean much. Father Time maybe? Death? Some devious fey trickster?” None of it makes any sense. You would think that the bard that penned this tale would have planted some clues for me, so that I might uncover this mystery. Unless I’ve missed something. During this endeavor I never paid enough thought as to how I was able to slip outside the bounds of time in the first place. Now I see what a mistake that lack of curiosity was.
I poke my head out my window. It is well into the afternoon and the last of the winter snow is rapidly melting on the grass. My head is pounding thanks to all the wine I drank last night, forcing me to raise a hand up to cover the sun. It is far too bright out at present. I lower my gaze down to the walkway visible from my window, and while only a few people are out and about today, my gaze quickly lands on a small group of figures.
Fortinbras and Marina walk close together, trailed by their personal guards and staff. They are too far away for me to get a good look at their faces but based on the way that Marina is leaning close to her husband, I am certain they are discussing something of importance. Damn it all. I didn’t know Marina would arrive back at Elsinore today. I was certain I’d at least have a few days before I had to face her.
It occurs to me that I could lie, and then I wouldn’t have to face her wrath. The idea makes me ill. Marina is my friend, she has been at my side even when I was being truly insufferable. She deserves better than a friend like me. A better husband too. When I see her and Fortinbras laugh at something together, my heart twists painfully.
The church is one of the last places I wish to visit, but I think it is one of the only places where I can go that no one will bother me. I quickly leave the royal apartment. Walking so fast that I can barely hear the sound of Dion and Finn scampering after me, urging me to slow my pace for them.
Reluctantly, I come to a stop. “If I attempted to bribe the two of you into losing me for a few hours, would you?”
“No,” Finn answers.
“We’re under strict orders not to lost you from her majesty,” Dion adds, “and she is very frightening when she is angry.”
That I don’t doubt. Despite having resolved myself to telling her about my amorous congress with Fortinbras, it is a conversation that must be forstalled. At least until I am able to sit down and consider my next course of action. Who is to say that the stranger cannot follow me to the present? He could be watching me at this very moment, as you are now, and I could be none the wiser. Nor would anyone else.
“I thought as much,” I grumbled. “I see you opening your mouth, Finn, do not ask if I am well, please. I simply want some peace and quiet, and moreover, I think some prayer may do me some good.”
Dion raises an eyebrow. “Are you no longer an atheist?”
“Don’t be rude,” Finn tells him. “People are allowed to change their minds.”
They’re good lads, but God almighty I am in no mood for this game right now. Before I can say something that I will regret I start to make my way to the church again, fielding off questions from the both of them. I attempt to distract Dion with a question about Bettie, which works for a few minutes. I’d rather he focus on his various failed attempts to woo her (the latest of which has involved forcing Finn to write poetry for her) but to my dismay he quickly realizes what I’m doing and ceases talking of his love and begins to pester me again.
Once we arrive at the church doors, I ask: “will the two of you at least wait outside for me? A man should be able to pray in private.”
Dion clears his throat. “Sir. If I might be so bold-”
“I’d rather you weren’t.”
“I will be. Sir, are you attempting to avoid Queen Marina?”
I let out a nervous laugh. “No. No of course not. Can’t a man want to attend a solitary mass?”
The flat look on both their faces tells me right away that I am making a complete fool of myself. “Is this about last night?” Finn asks.
“What are you talking about?”
“We were stationed at the entrances to the royal apartments last night.” Poor Finn has started to turn cherry red. “We could hear…parts of what occurred.”
“You were extremely loud,” Dion tells me, with a sigh heavy enough to sink cities. “King Fortinbras wasn’t quiet either.”
I stand frozen. Unable to think of a more mortifying moment than this. All these weeks I spent, trying to convince the palace staff that I was not a cheap paramour, and I threw all that work away last night. By now half of the staff must know of what Fortinbras did. Captain Iden is going laugh hysterically, if he doesn’t already know about what happened.
“Oh good god,” I groan.
“Yes, you said that a great deal last night,” Dion says.
I lean over with my head in my hands in the hopes that the ground will swallow me up. How wonderful would that be? I’m very glad that you do not speak to me, my lord, for I know that if you could you would be laughing at this turn of events. Trust that I will never again drink that much wine in a single sitting, as beautiful as Fortinbras and Marina are, I would have never overstepped had I been thinking clearly.
“I think I’m going to stay in the church for a while,” I tell them.
“How long?” Finn asks.
“Ideally until I am able to show my face in public once again.” Off in the distance, I spot Marina. Thankfully she does not appear to see me, as she is in conversation with Chancellor Vaux and I take the moment to dart into the church before I am spotted. It briefly occurs to me that I may find myself uninvited from the hunting party Vaux is hosting by the end of the day. Or banished from Elsinore entirely.
Finn and Dion follow me in. “Sir why are we running?” Finn asks. “I understand that Chancellor Vaux is very intimidating, why, Bettie always hides when he’s around but-”
Dion elbows him. “We’re hiding from her majesty, you dolt.” He shots me a sympathetic look, the sort that one would give to a man who is about to face the gallows, before pointing at the balcony up above. “We’ll try and hold her off.”
I clap him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Dion, I will remember you fondly when she kills me.”
Finally, I am blessedly alone. I lay on one of the pews that overlooks the rest of the church, a lovely view really, and I attempt to pray. It does not come easy to me. I don’t believe in God, but in moments like this I truly wish that I could. It might make life easier. If I could close my eyes, and rest with the knowledge that someone else would take cares of things, that there would be something else for me to look forward to once death comes for me.
When I first suggested leaving Elisnore in August, the death of summer seemed to be a thousand years away. I was so confident. Certain it wouldn’t take that long to save you. Especially since I knew how the story went. Now I see what a fool I was, for there are things I never knew about Elsinore, things I never knew about you.
If you would break your silence and tell me what I must do, things would be so much easier. Don’t you want me to save you? Why else would I feel your presence?
I felt you watching me when I threw myself from the cliff, and I was so certain that your presence appeared then because you missed me, because you loved me as desperately as I loved you. Yet knowing what I know now, my certainty has been shaken. Are you really watching me because you love me? Or is it because I broke my promise to tell your story?
Maybe you were trying to stop me.
My lord, I think I will take my leave of you for a short time.
----
Hours go by. Every so often, Dion and Finn walk into the church and glance up at me, to make sure that I am alive. Neither of them says anything. Once I wave at them, they wave back and go outside again. Good lads, both of them. Here is to hoping they have long lives.
Despite the fact that the pew is horribly uncomfortable, and the chill in the church, I somehow manage to doze off. It shouldn’t be too surprising. After all, most of my nights are spent traversing the past and if I am not doing that, I am laying awake and staring up at the ceiling waiting for my mirror to darken. Either trying to think of a new way to save you, or ways to make the present more bearable. Lot of good the latter has done for me, given last night’s affair.
Blessedly, I don’t dream of anything. It is the sort of sleep that you can only achieve when you have spent several weeks running yourself ragged. The kind of sleep that leaves you groggy for several minutes afterwards, unable to place your surroundings once you finally open your eyes.
I wake to someone leaning over me. “Why in the world are you taking a nap in here of all places?”
When I blink sleep away, and see Marina leaning over me, I let out a yelp and roll off the pew. Crashing against the floor with a bang that echoes in the church. I quickly scramble to my feet. All while Marina is watching with a befuddled, slightly concerned, expression.
“When your guards said you were praying I thought I would find you in actual prayer,” she tells me. “Though I suppose you could use more sleep. You look as tired as I feel.” She has shed her winter colors. Decked in a vibrant green gown, with matching emeralds and sapphires hung around her neck and woven into her hair. Despite her regal appearance, I can see the bags under her eyes, both from visiting her father and the long trip back to Elsinore. A fresh wave of guilt washes over me.
I try to speak. To say something. Anything. All the air has left my chest as the weight of my sin sinks into me. She’ll never forgive me. Or Fortinbras. I seduced him, I could have stopped at any time and he would have backed away. He gave me the chance to stop and I didn’t.
A worried expression takes hold of Marina’s face the longer I flounder. “Is something the matter?”
I fall to my knees and bow my head in front of her. That way I won’t have to look her in the eyes, for I do, I will never be able to dislodge the words from my throat. “I have sullied our friendship.” It is a great struggle to speak clearly and not dissolve into tears, for what right do I have to cry? I am the one who wronged her.
“Horatio! What in the world are you doing?”
“I have betrayed your confidence, your kindness, I have made a mockery of your marriage. There is no excuse I can give you for what I did last night. Know only that it was my fault, and my fault alone, and that Fortinbras is not to blame.” It is difficult to speak past the lump in my throat. “I will accept whatever punishment you see fit to dole out. Banishment, imprisonment, flogging. Even execution if that is what you desire.”
“Execution!?” Marina exclaims. “Don’t be absurd. Tell me what you actually did, for I highly doubt that you could have done something to warrant being hanged.”
“I–I went to bed with Fortinbras.” I had hoped that once I confessed my crime I might feel a little lighter. Instead I feel more shame. I screw my eyes shut tight and brace myself for the onslaught, for her to turn her back on me once and for all. Instead I only hear the rusting of her skirts as she crouches down to face me properly.
“Horatio-”
“We drank too much wine.” The words come tumbling out of my mouth now. “I wasn’t thinking straight, I wasn’t thinking at all and rest assured that I will return to my old chambers. Whatever you want, I’ll do. I’ll do any-”
“For God’s sake, Horatio, Fortinbras told me this morning.”
I’m so startled by this that my eyes fly open. I had not considered that he might very well tell his wife about the sordid affair. I stare in shock at Marina. Unable to see any sign of anger on her her face, no disgust, no pain, only a faint concern.
“He told you?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper. “Why would he-”
“Think about it,” she cuts in. “In the time that you and I have been friends, do you honestly believe that I would have married a man who jumps in others beds, without my express approval?”
Is it possible for a person’s mind to come to a complete and utter standstill? “I…you knew that I whored myself out already?”
“I think that you would have to be making coin before you can call yourself a whore,” Marina jests. “Not to mention the fact that you’ve only been with two men, far as I know. If anything, you’re quite chaste.”
I’m so confused that I can’t even join in on the joke. “You knew? Why don’t you hate me? Or him? It doesn’t make sense.”
Marina takes a seat on the pew and motions for me to sit down beside her, and after a brief moment of hesitation, I do so. “We married young,” she tells me. “When his uncle forced him into the army, we frequently went months without seeing one another. The longest stretch was a year. So Fortinbras and I came to an arrangement. As long as neither of us sired a bastard, we were free to take up other lovers. From time to time we even shared lovers.”
“You two…” I can feel myself blushing. These past few months I thought that I was only being kept in Elsinore because they wanted to hear your story, but it wasn’t about you. It hasn’t been about you in some time. It was about me.
“You aren’t angry?” I ask.
She leans back against the pew. “I will admit, I am quite peeved that Fortinbras didn’t think to tell you of our arrangement before he went to bed with you,” she confesses. “Would have saved us all a lot of trouble if he had. Lot of guilt as well. He is quite certain that you hate him.”
“I don’t hate Fortinbras. I’m not sure I ever really hated him, I just…” I sigh. “He was there. That is what I hate. The first time I met him was mere moments after I witnessed the man I loved die. It was hardly a good first impression.”
“He wasn’t responsible for what happened to Prince Hamlet,” she reminds me.
“I know,” I say, miserably. “I know that. But you remember how I was for those first few weeks afterwards. I was not myself. I still am not myself.” I blink and see you plunging the dagger into your chest. Your coffin. Your face as you gasp for while, while the poison tears through your body. War drums echo in my ears.
“Do you two really keep me here solely because you wanted to bed me?” I ask. “Was I just some kind of game to you two?”
“Of course not,” Marina insists. “Horatio, has it occurred to you that we enjoy your company? You’re educated, you’re kind and clever, and you’ve never treated me as lesser than because of the nature of my birth, as so many others have. The handsome face does help, I will admit.”
There are many things I could and should ask. Instead all I manage to blurt out is: “you truly think I’m handsome?”
Marina leans closer. “Very much so.”
Oh. Oh. I scarcely know what to do with this newfound information. In the past, my affections have mostly leaned towards men, though I do enjoy the sight of beautiful woman as much as beautiful men. What I thought was merely an aesthetic appreciation, I’m now realizing goes deeper than that. In another time this might be a bigger mystery to untangle, but given recent events I think that the mysteries of attraction are the least of my problems.
“I’m making a fool of myself, aren’t I?” I ask.
“A bit,” she admit, with a slight smirk.
If she knew of my activities over these past few weeks, the mess I have created for myself in trying to save you, she wouldn’t be so kind to me. You must hate this. I’m not sure how to proceed here and I wish more than anything that you would talk to me. Just to give me advice. I know that I am betraying both Fortinbras and Marina by trying to bring you back, and it would be so much easier to stomach if I could hate them but I can’t. I just can’t make myself hate them.
Marina must sense some of my unease, because she pulls back slightly. “One word,” she tells me. “One word and all conversation on this matter will cease.”
A way out. How easy it would be to take that out and devote all my time to you. That is what I should be doing.
And yet-
“What if I do want more than friendship?” I ask.
Marina grins and instead of saying anything, pulls me into a kiss. It is a soft kiss. Gentle. Nothing at all like Fortinbras and yet it is still enough to make me gasp with want. I can her smiling against my mouth, and I feel as though I am falling, only there is no ground in sight. It is as though I have seen sunlight after a lifetime illuminated only by candlelight.
I pull her closer to me. She lets out a small sigh when my lips drift down her jaw. “He was right. You do have a clever mouth.”
“That is good to hear,” I say, “for I often seem to be putting my foot in it.” Before I can kiss her again, she pulls away.
“Not in the church.” She rises to her feet, smoothing her dress as she does so. “Come to our bedchamber tonight, once it is dark out. Knock three times in quick succession so that we know that it is you, and then, we can begin in earnest. Till then, I’ll leave you to your prayer.”
I can’t help but sigh. Wondering if it is at all possible to convince her to stay, just a little longer, and knowing that she will not. “I don’t think my prayers are being heard.”
She waves me off. “God is always listening. Sometimes I think that he has developed crippling stage-fright, otherwise we’d be hearing from him all the time.” She kisses my cheek and departs. Leaving me alone with a whirling mind and red cheeks. The tremendous shame that had been suffocating me has fallen quiet, for a few moments, but I can feel it beginning to surface again.
My gaze drifts over to the statue of Christ on the cross that stands behind the altar.
“Are you going to smite me?” I ask.
Silence.
“Are you the stranger?”
More silence.
I let out a frustrated sigh. He is even worse than you are in terms of conversation. “Can you at least tell me whether or not I should visit their chambers tonight? Convince me not to sin.” There is only more silence, and it occurs to me that when it comes to sins, nothing is as bad as what I did to Claudius on my last visit to the past. Not loving you, not wanting them, what is love and lust when compared to something as gruesome as murder?
Moreover, if God lets us feel desire, then it must be natural. If I tell myself that enough times, then it may begin to feel true.
I leave the church shortly thereafter with the hope that I will never step foot in it again.
----
It should be a simple choice where I spend my night. When the surface of the mirror begins to twist and darken, distorting my reflection before erasing it, I don’t go through it. I stand and stare. Trying to will myself to do the right thing.
My feet won’t move. What once seemed to be a miracle now seems to be a great horror, one that I don’t understand and I’m not sure that I want to understand. I’ve failed you so many times. For all I know the stranger is the devil, and all I have been doing is diving into my personal hell over and over again just for his own twisted amusement.
I am just one man. Already I have discovered several blind spots, and likely there are dozens more than I don’t know about. How different this story was for Ophelia. For you and I. For all I know, Claudius considers himself to be the hero of this tale. Maybe Gertrude too, is concealing a great secret that we will never know of.
My hand reaches for the mirror, but before I realize what I am doing, I turn my back on it and flee. My feet carry me down the hall. All afternoon I agonized about where to spend my night. I know that I shouldn’t step foot in their chambers, but they were the ones who extended the invitation, they wouldn’t have done so if they didn’t want me to come.
Do you hate for this? Does it even matter if you do, given the fact that you were courting Ophelia. You bedded her. You loved her. Isn’t it only right that in return, I get to have this night? After tonight I shall redouble my efforts to save you. Just allow me one night to myself and then I will be yours once again. Once I save you, this night will be completely erased. Odds are that I will not even remember it once I have rewritten your ending. That should be a comfort.
Tell me why it isn’t.
I rapidly knock on the door three times as Marina instructed me. For several seconds I stand in an embarrassed silence, certain that if they open the door, they will laugh in my face. That this is just a cruel joke. Any moment, I will be sent back to my chambers.
Instead Fortinbras opens the door, clad in a loosely tied robe that reveals just enough to let me know that he is wearing nothing else underneath. For a long moment the two of us stare at one another. Neither sure what to say first, but at last, I force myself to speak.
“I’m sorry. For last night.” I step closer and to my relief he doesn’t push me away, nor does he look like he wants to punch me, which is probably what I deserve. “I was cruel to you, I thought…well I thought I had betrayed Marina.”
He considers my words for a moment, but he shrugs lightly. “I think the wine got to both of us,” he says. “I’m willing to forget it if you are.”
I know a peace offering when I see it, but I am unwilling to let myself forget it. I take his face and pull him into a deep kiss. “Let me make it up to you properly.”
His eyes widen at that. “Happily,” he breathes. He pulls me inside, and I see Marina sitting on the couch, reading from a slim volume of poetry, stealing occasional glances at us. It is quite a struggle not to stare at her nightgown, which is almost sheer in the candlelight. “Though I do believe that my wife wanted you to herself for a time.”
“Seems only fair,” she teases. “After all, you two got started without me last night. That said, I will be finishing this poem first, I’m nearly done.”
With a bit of hesitation, I sit down beside her, suddenly wishing for wine if only because it made me more confident. “I’m a patient man,” I tell her.
“That makes one of us,” Fortinbras says, leaning over my shoulder. “That said, Horatio, I honestly expected you to stay in your chambers.”
I tilt my head up to look at him. “I’ll have you know that while I’m very poor at handling my wine, I’m not a complete coward.” I glance at Marina. “I will do my best not to disappoint you, I do know the mechanics of…relations between men and women but given that I’ve never partaken in them myself, I don’t have a refined technique.” I am beginning to think that learning to speak was a terrible mistake, so I decide that it would be for the best if I quite talking at all before I make myself look more foolish.
“Relations?” Marina asks, visibly trying not to laugh. "It is not nearly as complicated as you seem to think it is.”
If it is possible, I blush even further, and I swear that it has spread down to my collarbone, and possibly the rest of my body. Can a person die just from that? “I don’t want to disappoint you is all.”
“Can’t be worse than I was on our wedding night,” Fortinbras jests.
Marina playfully swats his arm. “You weren’t that bad. I didn’t know what I was doing either, if you’ll recall.”
“Two minutes,” Fortinbras tells me solemnly. “If you last longer than that, Horatio, I think you’ll be just fine.”
I open my mouth to say something else, but Marina closes her book. “I think you have the same problem I did at first,” she says. “You’re overthinking it, and there’s an easy solution to that.” With that she pulls me atop her and I stop thinking about anything for quite some time.