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Thu, Mar. 24th, 2005, 03:19 pm
nutshell_prince:

Ophelia,

Why didst thou run from me yesternight? I checked myself afterward in the mirror but could find no mark, no hair, no cuff out of place. And I was wearing my favourite jacket; the jacket thou likest. Surely you would not flee me in such a fine garment.

Did I appear intimidating? Were my movements sudden? Did they startle thee like a bird? I cannot think of any reason else; I am sorry. But then, thou hast become more flighty in recent weeks; I see the hem of thy dress trailing out of sight around every corner. Must I tie a string to your ankle, or put nets over the courtyards, to keep thee close?

The next time I see thee, I will take up the chase. My presence will be swift and unannounced; be sure to put up a good flight for me!

Hamlet

Thu, Mar. 24th, 2005 04:14 am (UTC)
ophelia_sweet

My Lord,
Thou hast been much distract as of late, and I must confess that I do not know how to respond to you, especially in light of our last encounter. Thou didst startle me; I am not used to men coming in and out of my chamber at will, especially in such a state as thou wast.

However, if my lord were to assure me that his distraction and confusing actions were simply due to the overpowering love he holds for me, and that is why he was acting so strangely, nets and string would not be nessecary to keep me by his side.

Until then, I remain in flight~
Ophelia

Thu, Mar. 24th, 2005 06:28 am (UTC)
nutshell_prince

Ophelia,

Why, any distraction I might be in cannot be the cause of thine. Thou hast avoided me in the corridors for weeks now. I felt I was in no unorderly state when I came to thee; why, I was wearing my best clothes. Perhaps I merely felt it best to mime instead of speak? Mother says I am creative.

Thou hast never complained about me coming in and out of your chambers before; and certainly thou hast been in and out of mine. We make a happy pastime of ins and outs, do we not?

Thou dost solicit my love? Why, have I not given it you in full? In the letters thou hast of late apparently discarded? Perhaps 'tis best for thee not to drink up a man's love so hurriedly, lest it is spent ere thine is.

Thou dost not wish to be overpowered by overpowering love, Ophelia. But if thou and thy father, and whomever he wishes to speak of it to (half of Denmark, most likely), believes you are the cause of my distemper, then let it be so. After all, my love for you far outweighs what I had for my deceased father.

Adieu,

Hamlet

Thu, Mar. 24th, 2005 02:16 pm (UTC)
ophelia_sweet

My lord,
I am sorry if my letter offended thee. My father had suggested that thine distemper was perhaps due in part to me, and foolishly, I believed him. I must confess that a man going mad for love of me had a certain romantic appeal...but that was no doubt very naive of me, and I must beg thy forgiveness.

Certainly I do not mean to belittle in any way the love thou hast for thy father. Perhaps that is why I am keeping my distance- to give thee time to grieve. Perhaps I am simply afraid thy love will, as thou saidst, be spent ere mine is. After all, my lord, thou art a prince, and wilt not always be free to love as thou wilt. I love thee- but thou hast seemed so strange of late.

My father is already beginning to suggest (among other things) that thou might wish to turn your sights on another, more worthy, lady. Though I have my doubts about the puirty of my father's motives, I still thought it best to confirm thy love for me. I have discarded thy letters for the simple reason that my father had discovered their hiding place.

And perhaps it would be best if thou didst not come to my chamber in the middle of the afternoon. Even if thou hadst not frightened me, it clearly would not have been the proper time for a visit. What if my father had come in? If thou hadst been like thyself, and had come at the usual time, certainly I would have been more welcoming.

Still, I am concerned for you, my lord. I pray every day that this distraction will pass and thou wilt be like thy former self. I know how hard it must be for thou to accept recent events. It is hard for the rest of us, as well. I wish I knew how to comfort thee, my lord, but I no longer recongize thou- how can I comfort one I do not know?

Ophelia

Thu, Mar. 24th, 2005 11:22 pm (UTC)
nutshell_prince

Ophelia,

You could do me no offense by whatever means. But I confess I have never known your father to suggest anything; he asserts, overbears or misjudges in his speech to others, though that touched not you until you heeded him. But what of that? We all love our fathers, and will do their bidding in time.

To grieve alone is often worse than the death itself. It is no matter, however; it has been two months! Let us all marry our sisters and brothers! You might wed Laertes when he returns from France, and I have no siblings, so I will do the next best thing and marry a man. Horatio is, at present, high in my favour, but perhaps I might rival my mother for my uncle's attentions, or you for Laertes'.

'Tis ironic that the higher in status one is, the less freedom one has in love. Would it be romantic to say I would relinquish my title for you? Or kill your other suitors? Kill myself, even? Would that not be flattering? The next time I see you, I will drop to a knee and pronounce them all.

What other worthy ladies are there? I can think only of my mother, who is no longer worthy of anyone but mine uncle, so it is well they are married.

I am sorry I visited you in that afternoon. You didn't seem to favour my dress or the time, so I will take pains to remedy them. Next time I will be sure to come naked in the middle of the night.

It does not seem hard for anyone to accept these apparently recent events. Elsinore is at a peak of happiness. The King and Queen are close and adoring of one another. Your father's beard is newly trimmed. Laertes consorts with courtezans in France, free from prying eyes. Denmark is thriving. Crops are growing. My father is rotting. Let us have drinks aplenty, a play and a bergamask!

Love,

Hamlet