XIV. Burden

The days pass slowly for me, even though every other courtier is abuzz with excitement. Winter is has come, blanketing the world in snowy white, but the court refuses to submit to the ice and cold. Instead, the castle is as warm and bright as it is in the summertime. One could describe it as festive.

I am not preoccupied with festivities.

My time is now divided in three – with Gertrude, with Adelaide and Fernanda, and with Hamlet. All the while, I mull over the complexities of the royal family: Hamlet's love for me, Gertrude's supposed love for her brother-in-law, the growing rift between loving mother and son. I have not yet said anything to the prince about his mother's words to me. I know that they will only cause brooding, which he does enough of. I seem to be one of few who cares for this melancholy symptom, and I would not like to aggravate it.

Gertrude's revelation weighs heavily on my mind. The more I think of it, the more the knowledge of her love for King Claudius becomes apparent. Soon, I begin to wonder how I could not have seen it before. Still, I keep my lips sealed. I must – out of respect for the queen, and out of fear for Hamlet's reaction. However, the more time I spend with him, the more I know I cannot keep this secret from him. His suspicions about his mother have long been in place. Part of me knows that I must tell him and confirm it, out of respect for him.

Who do I respect more? The man I love, or my queen, who has been a good friend to me this past year?

I fear it may just drive me mad if I cannot decide.

Laertes comes searching for me. I have not seen him in days and my absence has concerned him. I have missed my brother, but I have been preoccupied with more trying matters recently.

"What trying matters?" he inquires as we walk through the halls, castle-bound by a heavy snowfall outside.

I sigh. I cannot tell him, and it is yet another thing I must keep secret from him. I have been shaded in lies ever since our reunion; I do not like it, but it is for the better. How many burdens I am forced to carry in these days.

"Matters of a womanly kind."

"Oh."

I know that I have chosen the right words as his interest immediately fails.

"I only ask, Sister," he says, "because I am concerned for your well-being."

"You have nothing to be concerned about, Laertes," I tell him. "I am in good hands here and live a good life."

"Ah," he replies, "but I am your brother, and thus it is my duty to be concerned for you, dear sister."

"All the more for me to assure you that I am fine," I say. I raise an eyebrow. "Can we put duty aside for one day?"

He laughs, amused by my comments, and takes my arm. Together we walk to the top of a gallery over-looking a wide hall, where there are several courtiers (mostly noblewomen) gazing at the recreational fencing taking place below. Laertes has a wish to pass by, but I persuade him to stop. Laying my hands across the balcony rail, I peer down at the hall. The prince is among the sportsmen below. Though I am in plain view up here in the gallery, he shows no sign that he knows I am present, just as I do not make it evident to that I am watching the prince.

Laertes is still laughing. "I feel abandoned!" he says lightly. "My sister is engaged in her own frivolities and my father is securing the affairs of state. What is a poor man to do?" He walks to my side and places a brotherly hand on my shoulder.

"What shall you do?" I respond archly. "Weep until your eyes have dried? Or perhaps you could join them below." I indicate the fencers. "Father has informed me that you fight well."

"I have been in constant training, yes." He looks pensive. "Perhaps I will fight with them one day, but not now. Now I wish to spend time with my dearest sister."

I turn to him and smile sweetly. "As do I, Brother." Out of the corner of m eye, I see Hamlet raise his face in my direction. I nod to him as discreetly as I can.

"Something happen?" Laertes asks.

"Oh! No. It is nothing."

We continue our way down the gallery. Laertes glances at the fencers below once more, but does not pursue the subject.

We enjoy a good solid two hours of each other's company, discussing childhood memories and laughing, as siblings do. It is good to spend time with my brother. Eventually, he has duties that he must take care of and he must leave me. It is now that my previous thoughts – released by Laertes' presence – return to me. Gertrude, King Claudius, Hamlet…

I cannot bear it any longer. I must tell him. If I love him, I must tell him what I know.

I run to his apartments, and when he greets me, he is freshly bathed, having completed his fencing. When he sees my wild expression, he immediately becomes concerned.

"Ophelia, what is it?"

"Your mother." Suddenly, the words burst forth, falling over each other. "I did not want to tell you because it is her affairs and it will hurt you, but I must tell you, I cannot keep it to myself any longer—"

"Slow down," he says, leading me to a chair. "You will choke on your own tongue if you speak that fast. What is it about my mother?"

My fingers twine together. I bite my lip. If I love him, I must respect him, therefore I must tell him.

"She is in love." My voice is subdued. "She no longer grieves for your father. And I am certain that your suspicions that the man she loves is your uncle are correct."

He stares at me. For a moment, his expression turns to stony anger, and he passes a hand across his face.

"I am sorry."

"It is not your fault." He kisses me gently on the forehead. "This concerns my mother. Thank you for telling me." With that, he turns away. I can already sense his anger.

I lower my head in silence.

Oh, Gertrude, I am sorry, but I had to tell him… even though it was not for me to say.