Hamlet made her way to her room, changing out of her gown into a simple, black, woolen dress. She walked to the window. The sun was a hand's breadth from the horizon, so she stood there, hands clasped behind her back, thinking. Was it truly her father's ghost? If it was, what could that mean? She needed to talk to Ophelia, her childhood friend, but she had been avoiding Hamlet lately. But for what reason? I know not. Fair Ophelia, how have I wronged thee? Throughout the long years, Ophelia had always been there for Hamlet - and Hamlet for Ophelia - if anything had ever been amiss in either one's life. One of the last things she had heard from Ophelia was that her brother, Laertes, was to leave Denmark and return to France, where he had been living for a while now. This sibling's absence was what caused the friendship between Hamlet and Ophelia to blossom, as each felt lonely and drawn to each other. But ever did Laertes me distrust, Hamlet thought. He thought that they were only friends because Hamlet could not find any that matched her status and were 'suitable' for her, but when she did, she would throw Ophelia away like leftover meat to the hounds. This was the most likely reason that Ophelia would not lately even be in the same room as she; ever the obedient daughter and sister, she was probably ordered to keep away from the heir to Denmark's throne. But, dear Ophelia, your counsel and your ear would not go amiss in this dark and troubled hour.

Hamlet gazed at the stars, seeing them again for the first time in hours. It was almost twelve! She dashed to her bed and grabbed her long, heavy coat, shrugging it on as she walked briskly toward the castle's parapets.

"Stand, ho! Who is there?" came a shout and a light.

She shielded her eyes with her hand. "Hamlet! 'Tis I, Hamlet! I seek Horatio!" The light was quickly lowered and apologies offered. Bernardo, for it was he that first saw her, led her to where Horatio and Marcellus stood, watching and hearing the festivities of the court below. They turned as they heard the approaching footsteps, and bowed to her.

"The hour lacks of twelve-" Horatio began.

"No, it is struck." Marcellus cut in.

"Indeed?" Horatio raised an eyebrow. "I heard it not." He shrugged. "Then it draws near the season wherein the spirit held his wont to walk. What does this sound mean, milady?" he motioned to the courtyard.

"The king doth wake tonight, and, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, the kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out the triumph of his pledge," she answered with a grimace.

"Is it a custom?" Horatio asked.

"Ay, marry, is't. But to my mind, it is a custom more honor'd in the breach than the observance. This heavy-headed revel east and west makes us traduced and taxt of other nations; they clepe us drunkards, and indeed it takes from our achievements, though perform'd at height."

Horatio gasped, wide-eyed and pointing behind her. "Look, my lady, it comes!"

Hamlet spun around, instantly catching sight of a man, tall, yet ghostly white, mist curling off of his shoulders and forming a halo around his body. He was clad, head to foot, in armour, the same armour that the king wore in life. He had a grey beard, his eyes were deep blue, and his face…. His face was the same one that Hamlet had been mourning these past months. "Angels and ministers of grace defend us!" she whispered, aghast. "Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, being with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, by thy intents wicked or charitable, thou comest in such a questionable shape that I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet! King! Father! Royal Dane!" The ghost made no reply, only advancing on Hamlet, those sad eyes never leaving hers. "O, answer me!" Her back made contact with the solid stone of the wall, telling her that she could go no further back. But still he came forward, an icy breath covering her from his proximity. "Let me not burst in ignorance," she all but begged, shivering, "but tell why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, wherein we saw thee quietly inurn'd, hath oped his ponderous and marble jaws that thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel, revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, making night hideous and we fools of nature so horridly to shake our disposition with thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we do?" Still, the ghost made no answer, but looked at the three men standing a few feet away, not daring to come any closer. He studied each of them, then returned his gaze to Hamlet before motioning with a gauntlet-clad hand for her to follow him as he walked away.

"It waves you to a more removed ground," Marcellus said, "but do not go with it."

"No, by no means!" Horatio agreed.

Hamlet moved forward as if in a trance. "It will not speak; then I will follow it."

Horatio caught her arm in his strong grip, stopping her. "Do not."

She met his eyes. "Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pin's fee, and for my soul, what can it do to that, being a thing immortal as itself? It waves me forth again; I'll follow it."

But Horatio still held her. "What if it tempt you toward the flood, my lady, or to the dreadful summit of the cliff that beetles o'er his base into the sea, and there assume some other horrible form which might deprive your sovereignty of reason and draw you into madness? Think of it! That very place puts toys of desperation, without more motive, into every brain that looks so many fathoms to the sea and hears it roar beneath!"

Hamlet was not listening, however. "It waves me still- go on, I'll follow thee!"

She struggled, and broke free of Horatio's hand, but only to be caught by Marcellus and Bernardo. "You shall not go, my lady," said Marcellus calmly.

"Hold off your hands," Hamlet answered, just as deceptively calmly.

"Be ruled; you shall not go," Horatio said to her again.

"My fate cries out and makes every petty artery in this body as hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. Still am I called!" Her eyes caught fire then. "Unhand me, gentlemen- by heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me!" she threatened, brandishing the sword that she stole from Bernardo's scabbard, "I say, away! Go on," she spun away from them, "I'll follow thee!" Hamlet heard brief conversation and footsteps behind her, but this only urged her to run the faster.