Horatio had been sitting at his desk in the dark with nigh light but from a single candle for hours on end. He could not sleep this night either. It had been several months since the unnatural events surrounding Hamlet's death and he still had problems sleeping. To remedy his wakefulness, Horatio did the only thing he could think to do: tell Hamlet's story as he was commanded by Hamlet himself to do.
"The young and beautiful prince came to me often, troubled by his misfortune. I would take him in my arms and gently rock him back and forth, comforting him as best as I could. 'Horatio?' he asked me softly. 'Yes, my sweet prince? What bothers your mind?' I would answer. 'Horatio, I am truly glad that I have thee at my side, for without your love I do not believe I could survive this ordeal.'" Horatio set down his pen to wipe away tears from his eyes.
What he was writing were beautiful untruths he dreamt up, but his heart ached as if they were true and he said aloud, "But my love wasn't enough, was it Hamlet? My love couldn't keep you alive, could it? You died in my arms! I was powerless to save you, the king of Denmark and my one true love!"
Carefully drying his eyes so as to not salt his paper with tears, Horatio continued, "'Hamlet, my love,' I told him, hugging him close to my person, 'I shall do everything in my power to keep you safe, happy, and pleased.' That is when Hamlet pulled away from me and looked up into mine eyes with a bashful blush growing on his cheeks. Being as close as we were I could tell right away what he was thinking and despite my strong and masculine appearance, a feminine blush lightly coated mine own cheeks. 'Horatio,' he called sweetly to me. 'Hamlet,' I gently caressed his face before slipping mine hand down his chest. He moaned sweetly as I…" Horatio's heart beat faster as his pen flew across the page, writing the story of Hamlet.