The Rest Is Silence [2/4]
anonymous
May 8 2010, 08:53:23 UTC
As tradition normally went, Denmark would have introduced himself to his new lord and king the night of his coronation, but as the fates would have it, even prior to his little meeting with his previous king, he had decided to delay the introduction a little more just to see what would happen. He’d had a strong premonition that the power of the House would shift from the first night of mourning. There was no point in premature relationships. He wanted to sit back and watch a little more.
In the weeks that passed, the old king’s ghost would seek him out for a little chat as he waited for the appropriate changing of the guard. He disappeared once the sun broke the horizon, but finally, one evening, the king approached Denmark with a smug expression and absolutely no desire to haunt the night watch.
Denmark realised that it coincided with Hamlet’s sudden change in demeanour.
“His Highness is awfully handsome,” he commented to the ghost, watching from the window of the keep.
“His mother is a handsome woman,” the king might have swelled a little as he praised his son. “But it is his wit that gives him such looks. Wittenberg has strengthened his mind and tongue.”
“I can tell,” Denmark grinned, glancing briefly at the king. “He sounds pretty smart even when he’s pretending to be crazy.”
“Intelligence cannot be suppressed, my nation. It is in his very blood.”
“That explains Claudius, then.”
The king scowled almost immediately. “If we could strangle you…”
“Three hours ago. Gotcha the first time.”
“Lord have mercy,” the king muttered under his breath.
“Majesty, I suggest you leave the watching over to me. Why don’t you court a fetching maiden of equal circumstance, hmm?”
The king glared again, swore under his breath and begrudgingly left Denmark alone thereafter. Denmark smiled at his departure. The nation had to get used to a new monarch, and engaging in chatter with the king every other night wasn’t particularly healthy. He hoped it wouldn’t begin a trend because, as much as he did enjoy the company of some of his kings, he preferred it if the dead remained, as the good Lord had intended it, dead.
Hamlet entered the gallery, book in hand, and though it was open, he did not read from it, merely stared at it in deep thought. Denmark deliberately backed into him, causing him to look up with a start, the open book pressing against his chest.
“Your Highness,” Denmark’s eyes twinkled as they usually did, meeting Hamlet’s stricken gaze with warmth. He broke eye contact and bowed deeply. “My most profound apologies.”
“No,” Hamlet replied, hand on Denmark’s shoulder. “It is no fault of yours. Please rise.”
“You are too kind, Your Highness.”
Hamlet’s expression softened and he snorted lightly.
“Your impression of me is undeserving, good sir.”
“Nay,” Denmark grinned, and Hamlet was stricken by the odd camaraderie he felt when placed before those eyes and lips, drawn to the almost familiar stranger. A courtier? It seemed rather likely though he looked more brazen than refined. “You are everything I’ve thought you to be.”
Hamlet was a little startled.
“Good night, Your Highness,” Denmark bowed, retreating by a step before the prince could speak further. “Rest well.”
As he disappeared down the corridor, Denmark caught sight of Hamlet watching him leave.
In the weeks that passed, the old king’s ghost would seek him out for a little chat as he waited for the appropriate changing of the guard. He disappeared once the sun broke the horizon, but finally, one evening, the king approached Denmark with a smug expression and absolutely no desire to haunt the night watch.
Denmark realised that it coincided with Hamlet’s sudden change in demeanour.
“His Highness is awfully handsome,” he commented to the ghost, watching from the window of the keep.
“His mother is a handsome woman,” the king might have swelled a little as he praised his son. “But it is his wit that gives him such looks. Wittenberg has strengthened his mind and tongue.”
“I can tell,” Denmark grinned, glancing briefly at the king. “He sounds pretty smart even when he’s pretending to be crazy.”
“Intelligence cannot be suppressed, my nation. It is in his very blood.”
“That explains Claudius, then.”
The king scowled almost immediately. “If we could strangle you…”
“Three hours ago. Gotcha the first time.”
“Lord have mercy,” the king muttered under his breath.
“Majesty, I suggest you leave the watching over to me. Why don’t you court a fetching maiden of equal circumstance, hmm?”
The king glared again, swore under his breath and begrudgingly left Denmark alone thereafter. Denmark smiled at his departure. The nation had to get used to a new monarch, and engaging in chatter with the king every other night wasn’t particularly healthy. He hoped it wouldn’t begin a trend because, as much as he did enjoy the company of some of his kings, he preferred it if the dead remained, as the good Lord had intended it, dead.
Hamlet entered the gallery, book in hand, and though it was open, he did not read from it, merely stared at it in deep thought. Denmark deliberately backed into him, causing him to look up with a start, the open book pressing against his chest.
“Your Highness,” Denmark’s eyes twinkled as they usually did, meeting Hamlet’s stricken gaze with warmth. He broke eye contact and bowed deeply. “My most profound apologies.”
“No,” Hamlet replied, hand on Denmark’s shoulder. “It is no fault of yours. Please rise.”
“You are too kind, Your Highness.”
Hamlet’s expression softened and he snorted lightly.
“Your impression of me is undeserving, good sir.”
“Nay,” Denmark grinned, and Hamlet was stricken by the odd camaraderie he felt when placed before those eyes and lips, drawn to the almost familiar stranger. A courtier? It seemed rather likely though he looked more brazen than refined. “You are everything I’ve thought you to be.”
Hamlet was a little startled.
“Good night, Your Highness,” Denmark bowed, retreating by a step before the prince could speak further. “Rest well.”
As he disappeared down the corridor, Denmark caught sight of Hamlet watching him leave.
He would be a good king, Denmark thought.
Would be.
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