forsake it
Title: Ophelia in Horatio’s Kitchen
Fandom: Hamlet
Character, Pairings: Ophelia, Hamlet/Horatio/Ophelia of a sort
Rating: not explicit
Disclaimer: not my characters
Notes: double drabble
Prompt 65, ‘taste’ for 100_women fanfic challenge
Ophelia in Horatio’s Kitchen
Horatio welcomes her, holds a piece of cinnamon toast up to her mouth. She takes a big bite, closes her eyes to better enjoy the grease of the butter, the warmth of spice and the sweetness of sugar. “Delicious. Amazing. How do you do it?” Opens her eyes to see him smiling at her; he hands over his cup of coffee. There are shadows under his eyes. “You look like hell.”
“I’m ok.”
“Where were you last night? Were you with him?”
“He’s doing really bad.”
“I know. I saw him at the funeral.”
“This is worse than that.”
“Worse?”
“Yes. He’s seeing his father’s ghost.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“He believes it.”
“You can’t save him. Trust me, I know. I would have done anything for him, once.”
His hand rests soft on her arm. “You let him go. He’s mine to look after now, and I do the best I can.”
“He’s going to drag you down with him. You’re going to drown.”
“Never.”
He kissed her, once, when they were both drunk. It was good, so good she’d wished for it to happen again and again. It never had. He loves Hamlet even more than she does.
Fandom: Hamlet
Character, Pairings: Ophelia, Hamlet/Horatio/Ophelia of a sort
Rating: not explicit
Disclaimer: not my characters
Notes: double drabble
Prompt 65, ‘taste’ for 100_women fanfic challenge
Ophelia in Horatio’s Kitchen
Horatio welcomes her, holds a piece of cinnamon toast up to her mouth. She takes a big bite, closes her eyes to better enjoy the grease of the butter, the warmth of spice and the sweetness of sugar. “Delicious. Amazing. How do you do it?” Opens her eyes to see him smiling at her; he hands over his cup of coffee. There are shadows under his eyes. “You look like hell.”
“I’m ok.”
“Where were you last night? Were you with him?”
“He’s doing really bad.”
“I know. I saw him at the funeral.”
“This is worse than that.”
“Worse?”
“Yes. He’s seeing his father’s ghost.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“He believes it.”
“You can’t save him. Trust me, I know. I would have done anything for him, once.”
His hand rests soft on her arm. “You let him go. He’s mine to look after now, and I do the best I can.”
“He’s going to drag you down with him. You’re going to drown.”
“Never.”
He kissed her, once, when they were both drunk. It was good, so good she’d wished for it to happen again and again. It never had. He loves Hamlet even more than she does.