I Did Love You Once
Author's Note: Yes, I really wrote a Shakespeare fan-fic. Yes, I am that much of a nerd. I don't care if you hate it or not. I like it. I got the inspiration during a discussion of the play, specifically Ophelia, in my college lit class, the second class I've had to read this play for. I love Hamlet, for some weird reason. I don't know; I just like the Bard :P
I do not own the storyline or the characters or the dialogue.
My father's voice rang through my ears.
"I would not, in plain terms, from this time forth have you slander any moment leisure as to give words or talk with the Lord Hamlet. Look to't, I charge you."
The heart within me writhed in agony as I remembered my father's order to avoid the prince. Father but thought that it was a passing fancy of mine, and only an attempt to bed me on Hamlet's part. How wrong he was! For all his wisdom, my father could not see how much I longed for Hamlet. My father assumed I had not since seen the prince, though he knew of the prince's rapping on my chamber door and of my refusals. But that wise father of mine was unaware of the midnight visits my prince made to me nor of the midnight walks in the gardens we took.
For the first time in my life, I told a falsehood to my parent, but I could not find it in my heart to regret it much. Hamlet was much enraged to hear talk of such--who dared to interfere with my happiness and his? he had roared. With much effort and caresses, my prince became himself again, though still much put out with Polonius.
Our dalliances were hidden and secret, much more so than before. When I was with him, my world was complete, nothing could harm me. His presence was my sanity. But once we were separate, guilt rocked my conscience. When with Father, my nerves quivered and shook, petrified he would discover my lie and my dishonesty. From time to time, I removed myself from his presence, claiming illness. Indeed, my entrails were so much twisted that I felt as if I had some horrible malady. My skull beat with a pulse: obey my father, as I should, or obey my lord and my love, as I wanted?
My father had come to my chamber and had found the letters and trinkets Hamlet had bestowed on me; they had been kept in a hidden drawer in the stand that stood by my bed. He had then demanded I return them to the prince, to effectively tell him that I was no toy to be played with and that our courtship was over. Ice formed in my veins, over the chance my father had heard of whispers of our continued romance. His next words were congratulatory on my obedience in this matter. My organs plunged down my chest. Father's praise for me was rare. To be praised at last for something untrue? It sat not well with me. Shame was like a mighty force of water. And yet, I lingered over the letters, my heart aching more-so at the thought of losing these remnants.
The guilt had so concreted in my mind that I began to avoid my lord. It was not a careful avoidance, but if I saw Hamlet walking down one corridor, I would take myself down another. If my prince sought me, occasionally I disincline the invitation, but more often than naught, Hamlet would insist and I would tuck the guilt into a secret drawer and rejoice in the company of the prince I loved. The drawer would burst open the moment my ecstasy of happiness being with the prince had subsided and I would renew the vow to myself to not harm him or my father. I know naught of what my lord heard or witness, but slowly, it seemed he too was cautious to me. We spoke not at great length. I was torn between despair and hope—despair that I no longer was in the heart of him and hope that at last I could faithfully obey my father.
I stood there, re-witnessing this thing in my memory and these thoughts dredged up the last time I saw my lord. I could see Hamlet's face in my mind's eye, the last time I had seen him. He had broken into my chamber unexpectedly. For a long moment, he had simply stared at me. He had looked a mess, disheveled, and it appeared that he had not slept at all for quite some time. I had longed to reach out and comfort him, but he frightened me so.
He had taken my wrist, hard, in his hand to keep me from starting back and just held it, all the while memorizing my features. My heart had stuttered in my chest, wanting to scream to him my apologies and love at him and have him take me in his arms again. But the gag my father's orders had created squeezed shut my throat, and I could only force out a sob.
In that long moment, I had never felt so trapped. I was trapped here in the place by my heart, by my gender, by my father, by everything in my life. I wished with every fiber of my being to be anywhere but here. I wanted to obey my father, but couldn't. I wanted to love Hamlet, but shouldn't. I wanted to run away, far, far away, beyond anyone's reach and wouldn't.
Finally, Hamlet had left me, without speaking. For a moment, I had felt a relief wash through me, for I had no known how to act. As always when Hamlet left, there was a pang in my breast. And this time, I knew with no uncertainty something was wrong with the prince. He had not been as I knew him. There was something that had sunk into his soul, something that was clinging to his soul that disturbed him. What could be done? I had wondered as I had paced the length of the room. Should I pretend nothing was wrong? Should I seek out Hamlet and demand of him his tormentor? Would he even turn and face me after how I have avoided him? Nothing I would say or beg of him would convince him to make me his confidante, I felt sure. But, my heart and mind told me, I must do something to help my prince. There must be someone who could notice there was something amiss and could set it right. My father.
I had felt a weight lifted from me. My father was the trusted counselor to the King. My father could help. I had flown to my father and relayed all of it. What else could I have done? I am naught but the daughter of a powerful man. But if Father could be speak to Hamlet or even King Claudius. They could set my poor prince right. If I was not permitted to speak to the man I will love forever, he at least could be happy. I could not be, but why should it matter? Hamlet, at least, should feel joys and never experience sorrow. It was the only thing I could have done, I thought.
Now, I watched him from the doorway. Father though my dear prince was mad, insane. For my love. Mine? I could not have done this to the great man who had had the condescension to look beyond my lowliness and had held me to his bosom. I, Ophelia, could not have crippled him this way. My intellect and mind were not as sharp as his; mine was kitchen cutlery to his rapier. I could not do this to the one person who had respected me as no other man had. For him to have lost reasoning would be to say the Lord God in Heaven had lost his kingdom!
He stood, motionless, in the great room of the palace. The very room where I had first met him. I shivered in remembrance of the first time our eyes met, how I had blushed and looked away, ashamed to have been caught staring and alarmed by the feelings coursing through me. Now, he was alone, not surrounded by pomp and circumstance, no courtiers and kings. I loved him best when it was the two of us alone. There was never any pretense, any condescension. He talked to me as an equal. I had reveled in how he would ask my opinions of this matter and that, as if my thoughts held some significance to him.
From my place behind the corner, I could hear him speak aloud. To himself, I had to assume, for I could see not another in the proximity. And he knew not that I watched him, I thought. I clutched the objects he had bestowed upon me to my heart and tried not to listen to his words.
"To be or not to be, that is the question: whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them…"
Not to be...His words frightened me. To not be? To not exist? That the thought of taking his life had crossed his mind! My lord could not do that! If he lived not, what had I to live for? My life did not matter as much as his, his happiness usurped mine. Had my avoidance of him caused these suicidal thoughts? For shame, Ophelia! I scolded myself. The prince had much more to live for than the lowly likes of myself! If I was the cause of such troubles, Hamlet would do better to love another. My resolve strengthened at what I perceived as logic. I hastened towards him, and he stopped his monologue as he heard my step.
"Soft you now, the fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered."
I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. Being called 'fair' by this man, even then, made my heart shine like a distant star. I desperately searched my mind for some words.
"Good my lord, how does your honor for this many a day?" was all I could manage.
"I humbly thank you, well."
His manner was kind, but I felt the coolness in his tone. I wanted to wipe away the distance between us, for him to confide in me as he had before. But I held myself back, as once again my father's orders reverberated through my mind and my own conclusion solidified more.
"My lord," I could barely choke out my words as I held with shaking hands the last remnants of his love for me, "I have remembrances of yours that I have longed long to redeliver. I pray you now receive them."
I could not look into his handsome face. I did not want to see relief there, nor sarcasm at my foolishness. Similarly, I did not want to see hurt or even an emotion of tenderness, for it would destroy what I was trying to do. His answer startled me more.
"No, not I. I never gave you aught."
I stared at the prince, surprised and uncertain. Was he so ashamed of our affair that he would deny it to the one person who knew the depth of what had occurred between us? I had treasured every moment of it, and I wanted to fasten a hold upon him and shake him thoroughly. And then perhaps, feel his lips against mine. I pushed away that last treasonous thought.
The only excuse for my next words was the shock echoing through my mind. "My honored lord, you know right well you did, and with them words of so sweet breath composed as made the things more rich. Their perfume lost, take these again; for to the noble mind rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind. There, my lord."
I tried to force everything into his hands, but he would not take them, instead thrusting them back upon me.
He laughed once, a dark and wild sound. It was not like his laugh, that I had memorized so well. "Ha, ha! Are you honest?"
"My lord?"
What was he asking? I had never lied to him, but once. Once, and the pain of it still rang in my breast.
"Are you fair?"
Why was he asking of me these things? What did he want of me? What knowledge did he posses that I did not that would make sense of these inquiries?
"What means your lordship?" I asked timidly.
"That if you be honest and fair, your honesty should admit no discourse to your beauty."
He and I had often engaged in conversation, where one would try to overturn the other's logic. I often lost as my prince's logic far surpassed mine. Was this now the game he was playing?
"Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?"
The slightest twitch of his lips gave me hope, that perhaps this was a test. But the grin was wiped from his countenance as he continued.
"Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform honesty from what it is to a bawd than the force of honesty can translate beauty into his likeness."
My heart stopped for a moment. Did the honesty he spoke of refer to falsehoods or my maidenhood? He alone knew that I was no longer a maiden and he had been the one to take it from me. Why was he probing the matter? I could not understand the reasoning behind the insults he seemed to be directing at me. He had often said to me, that he prized my inability to lie, that I was fresh as a flower because I had no pretenses. Did he know of what oath my father had wrung from me?
"This was sometime a paradox, but now the time gives it proof."
Could he be insinuating that I had proven false? O, love! O, Hamlet!
"I did love you once." His voice and manner were soft and forlorn, and it seemed as if he would reach out for me. The temptation to catch up his hand and place it on my heart near overwhelmed me, but he turned from me.
Love me once? Could he no longer find tenderness in his heart for me? The one he had held close and whispered sweet nothings to? The one who had trusted him implicitly? He had said "Ophelia, I love you." Those words would never leave my heart or my soul or my mind. That he attempted to have once felt those emotions reassured me, at least, but tore me to think he no longer harbored love for me.
"Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so," I said quietly. Please, Hamlet, tell me that you love me still!
"You should not have believed me," he became angry, harsh. His features distorted into a violent expression. He grabbed my forearms and shook me. "For virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock but we shall relish of it."
He released his tight hold on me, and I stumbled backwards. My heart began to wrench for his anguish. But before I could reach out and offer solace, his next words caused my vital organs to rip in two.
"I loved you not."
Everything about my being that kept my existence in place froze. I could not breathe. He had never loved me. My brother and father's words that I had so foolishly disregarded were true. My world was falling around my head.
"I was the more deceived," was all I could manage. I tried to pull myself together. I would not cry in front of the man that I trusted with my soul so recklessly; I would have that much dignity for myself.
In the most vicious voice I have ever heard uttered, Hamlet spoke. "Get thee to a nunnery! Why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself indifferent honest, but yet I could accuse me of such things that it were better my mother had not borne me, I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in. What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves all; believe none of us. Go thy ways to a nunnery."
He had come closer and closer to me, menacingly. I shrank back, but could not escape him. Suddenly, he stopped his rampage and looked around us. He whirled back on me. "Where's your father?"
"At—at— home, my lord," I stuttered.
He relaxed for a moment. "Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool nowhere but in's own house. Farewell."
He turned and began to leave me. I sank to the floor, nothing capable of keeping my limbs strong.
Hamlet was mad, stark-raving mad. There was something lurking beneath him, something had caused his mind to snap like a twig .The thought tore me more than the nasty words he had thrown at me. The only aid that could come to him was divine.
"O, help him, you sweet heavens!"
He must have heard my sobs, for he turned on me again, bearing down on me from his great height. "If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: be thou as chase as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. Get thee to a nunnery, farewell."
This farewell, he threw his feet against the ground away from me with such force I thought the ground trembled. A convent, O, if only I had been there before this horrible whirl of events had clutched me in its grasp!
As he reached the corridor, my prince turned and flew back to my side, grabbing my arms again. "Or if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool; for wise men know well enough what monsters you make of them. To a nunnery, go: and quickly, too. Farewell."
Again, with the farewell, he made to go. My mind was throbbing with confusion and hurt and I had never felt so lost on this great wide earth than before.
"Heavenly powers, restore him!" God, give me my Hamlet back!
My words roused the wrath again. "I have heard of your paintings well enough. God hath given you one face and you make yourselves another. You jig, you amble, and you lisp, you nickname God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't, it hath made me mad. I say we will have no more marriage. Those that are married already, all but one, shall live; the rest shall keep as they are. To a nunnery, go."
This time, he threw me to the ground and stormed out.
I lay, prone, on the cold marble tile of the throne. The carefully constructed façade I had thought was my life had fallen through. My lord never loved me and now his noble mind was dropping into darkness and madness. "O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!" I cried. "The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword, th'expectancy and rose of the fair state, the glass of fashion and the mould of form, the'observed of all observers, quite, quite down! And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, that sucked the honey of his music vows, now see that noble and most sovereign reason like sweet bells jangled out of tune and harsh, that unmatched form and feature of blown youth blasted with ecstasy. O woe is me t'have seen what I have seen, see what I see."
I had spent much closeted time with him, and yet, I had not seen the danger? What was the reason behind my prince's madness?
Without warning, the king and my father revealed themselves from behind a curtain. My limbs locked, unable to take anymore shock in one sun's rising and setting. Had the king and my father heard our entire exchange?
Neither seemed to take notice of me.
"Love! His affections do not that way tend, nor what he spake, though it lacked form a little, was not like madness…"
The king had thought Hamlet was mad for my love? Had my father put such words into his ears? If the king was that much the fool after witnessing his nephew, I would not be the one to correct him.
"…Haply the seas and countries different, with variable objects, shall expel this something-settled matter in his heart, whereon his brains still beating put him thus from fashion of himself. What think you on't?"
Sending Hamlet away would not do anything for his condition! Knave! Fool! I wanted to cry, but I could not. The king would not bend an ear to the thoughts of a woman. The only man to do such was Hamlet and see what state his mind was in! I never felt more alone.
"It shall do well," my father agreed, "But yet I do believe the origin and commencement of his grief sprung from neglected love."
He then seemed to notice his daughter prone on the floor. "How now, Ophelia! You need not tell us what Lord Hamlet said, we heard it all." I sat up and opened my mouth, to demand of my father what business he had in meddling in private affairs, but my father's attention was returned to the king. I was brushed aside as no more than dust.
"My lord, do as you please, but if you hold fit, after the play, let his queen-mother all alone entreat him to show his grief: let her be round with him, and I'll be placed, so please you, in the ear of all their conference. If she find him not, to England send him; or confine him where your wisdom best shall think."
More spying and hiding? What had possessed my father? Was the entire court as mad as my lord?
Claudius nodded once, before turning on his heel. "It shall be so. Madness in great ones must not unwatched go."
Madness in great ones must not unwatched go, indeed, I thought bitterly left alone on the floor. But madness in small ones might unwatched go. Were that I but mad. I could escape this wretched world where no one seemed to care for myself.
Like I said, I do not own the dialogue--that's all Will's. Just how I think Ophelia might have been thinking/feeling during this scene. Tell me what you thought!