"Thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and better. And therefore tell me, most fair Ophelia, will you have me?"*

"I will."

"Now join hands, and with your hands your hearts**; in sight of God and Men, I pronounce you man and wife, lord and lady of the Danes!"

Cheers and hollers resounded through the great hall, making Hamlet and Ophelia smile through their first kiss as husband and wife. When they parted lips, they lingered in that position, their foreheads touching as they gazed into each other's eyes. Hamlet's mind was in a whirlwind, but for once, it was not because he was contemplating the inherent flaw of Man. At that moment, he was committing to memory the shine of Ophelia's eyes, the joyful smile on her lips, and the feeling of a gold band on the finger of his right hand.

*/*/*/*

Next was the prince's least favorite Danish tradition: the kisses given to the bride and groom. First, all men in attendance, excluding Hamlet, gave Ophelia a kiss. Laertes and Horatio gave her respectful pecks on the cheek, but some of the nobles, red in the face with premature drinking, decided to kiss Ophelia fully on the lips. Hamlet had gripped the arm of a chair through the whole ordeal while making a mental note on which nobles he'd need to keep his wife far away from.

Wife. What a fun word to say, Hamlet thought, a smile coming to his face. He should really use it more often.

The second half was the reverse, where every woman except for Ophelia gave Hamlet kisses. Queen Gertrude gave her son a very tender one on his cheek, but the other women were, in his opinion, too brave for their own good. A group of French ladies whom Ophelia had befriended and invited gave him several kisses each, on both cheeks and lips. Afterwards they crowded around Ophelia, giggling and tittering to her in their language. Hamlet couldn't help but grin – Ophelia was becoming quite skilled in French, and through the help of her new friends she'd developed a gorgeous accent.

When his wife glanced his way again, Hamlet made a disgusted face and mimed whipping his cheek. Her laughter could be heard across the room – it was a sound so beautiful Hamlet wanted to close everyone's ears so only he could hear it.

Osric, in his most pompous outfit yet, announced that drinks and small plates had been served. The guests murmured their approval, and soon they filed into a secondary room to open the kegs. Before Hamlet could join them, Queen Gertrude laid a hand on his arm.

"My tears of joy hath worn me to the core; I beg your forgiveness as I leave you to your revelries," she said with a sad smile. Hamlet returned his mother's smile and nodded. As she left for bed, he suddenly became aware of how grey her hair had become.

"My lord!"

Hamlet turned and grinned like a loon. Horatio was waving to him from the entrance to the dining hall, a pint already in his hand.

Moments later, Hamlet and Horatio had found a corner of the room that was miraculously unoccupied. The guests had balanced themselves out between the rooms, some stuffing their faces with gravy-drenched goose and others dancing waltz in between sips of wine. Horatio had long since finished his slice of kransekage, but Hamlet was trying to savor each bite of its nutty flavor. It was not so late in the eve for people to become daring in their amorous pursuits, but Horatio joked that it wouldn't take too much longer.

"Tis the blue doublet, that be he," Horatio asserted.

"Not so! I'd place my claim in the golden lapel," Hamlet countered.

With bated breath they watched the two men. Then, the man with the lapel of gold stumbled. His path forced him to fall into the man in the blue doublet, who took that as a slight against him. Within seconds the two were in a shouting match with only their friends to hold them back from blows.

"Ha!" Hamlet shouted. "Have at you, fool! He's drunk enough for us all."

Horatio groaned and shook his head. "I'm no fool, if my bet had not eaten you'd have lost."

They laughed and took another sip of their beers. As is the way with those prone to drunkenness, the two men had already calmed down and were laughing with each other over a pint.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed. Through the archway that led to the great hall, Hamlet could spot Ophelia standing amongst her brother and their friends and family from France. Her maturity displayed itself through her confidence. She was a new woman, one who had finally found happiness on her own terms. He could not count the ways he was grateful to her and her forgiveness. For the rest of his life, he wished to devote himself to her; to dote on her like a nun to her prayers.

"Your father would be proud to see you wed," Horatio said.

Hamlet turned to him and was surprised to see pride brimming in his friend's eyes. The prince blushed under the scrutiny. "But ashamed in the same breath; tis my fault Polonius was, his paternal role, thus denied."

"Nay, lord, I think it not so; was she not smiling?" Horatio shrugged. "In privy I confess her preference was most evident—Laertes was her closest companion ere all came to pass."

Hamlet nodded finally, but he didn't think he'd every feel fully comfortable with what he did. From what Ophelia had told him, Polonius was perhaps not the best father in the world, but how was his father any better? Hamlet did not regret killing Polonius, but he did rue killing Ophelia's father.

The prince swirled his finger around the lip of the drinking glass. "I'd like to put my pen to it," he said.

Horatio raised his eyebrow. "To all? Ha! A book would scrub itself clean of it."

"Tis a tale of Danish kings, not witchcraft! Man needs to hear of it, all of Denmark must know the ill that lies twist a brother and his king, and all that came hereafter."

His friend's raised eyebrow was joined by a skeptical bite of the lip. "Indeed, tis an extraordinary tale, my lord, yet may I advise against this? Stay thy hand until your crown is matured; wait until Denmark is more forgiving and may pardon you and Ophelia all wrongdoing, else may your reign be wrought with rebellion."

This hadn't occurred to Hamlet; he'd spent so many months dealing with his father's murder, his mother's hasty marriage, and everything else that he forgot how jarring it would be to a stranger. If the people of Denmark learned that, say, their new king had killed an innocent man, they'd never trust the monarchy again.

The prince grinned and clapped Horatio on the shoulder from across the table. "Your wisdom confounds and trumps mine, my friend. What will happen to my crown without you?"

Horatio nodded in acknowledgement, but to Hamlet's surprise, he only gave a small, quick smile before frowning. The prince opened his mouth to ask what was on his friend's mind, but Horatio's expression cleared before he could. "I raise my glass to you and her, my lord, for finding the happiness thou deserves."

"Thank you, Horatio. I drink to your health, such that it may be after so many nightly bar visits." Hamlet retorted, winking.

Horatio went red. "Alas, my lord, to be mentioned by you reminds me to speak."

It was Hamlet's turn to raise his eyebrow in suspicion. "Oh?"

The prince glanced at his friend's hands and noticed how tightly they gripped the pint glass. Horatio inhaled deeply, and then suddenly stood up from his stool and walked into the crowd surrounding the dance floor. Hamlet frowned after him, utterly baffled, but before he could get up to follow him, Horatio was returning with a man following close behind. The man wore a doublet similar in style to Horatio's – so similar Hamlet briefly wondered if they'd gotten it from the same clothier.

"My lord," Horatio began, "please allow me to introduce Frederick of Denmark, a loyal friend and good companion."

Frederick bowed from the waist. "My lord," he said respectfully.

Hamlet tried not to roll his eyes. When Frederick came up, the prince clapped him on the shoulder the same way he'd done to Horatio. "Frederick, you are welcome here! But please, I'll not have groveling, tis friendly here. You're enjoying all?"

Frederick smiled shyly. "Much, my lord."

"And now, Horatio!" Hamlet turned to his friend, who was more flustered than before, if it was possible. "Why such delay, to meet my friend's friend ere my wedding day?"

Horatio glanced at Frederick and then back at Hamlet. Frederick held out his hand, and Horatio clasped it firmly. "Forgive me, prince, I did not think it wise; We are…"

He glanced at Frederick. A small, yet earnest, smile appeared on his face. "Very close," he finished.

Hamlet glanced between then two men and at their clasped hands. He suddenly understood. "Oh! My friend, my tongue has stopped with such joy; bless you both, yet I beg your forgiveness if my speech offend."

"Nay, tis blunt words, we smile to hear your speech," Horatio said between chuckles. His breath came out in a whoosh, like he'd been holding it the entire evening. "We've told few else for fear of an outburst; such fear I've had, for myself and my love."

Hamlet looked away, ashamed at the thoughts that had initially came to his mind. He had not had many encounters with those of a different persuasion, but he did remember growing up under a particularly traditional household. The subject never came up until Hamlet left for a more open-minded university. "Tis surprise, I assure you, nothing more, though it makes me laugh – Horatio, I thought cinnamon would acquaint itself with you on your birth day." The prince shook his head. "You hath been with me through fire and hell; forgive a man that cannot repay that."

Horatio waved his hand in dismissal. "A prince should have their mind overtaken with such matters as marriage and kingship."

Hamlet nodded. He was happy the two men had relaxed; now that they had, the prince could see that they were very comfortable around each other, just like he was with Ophelia.

After a moment, Hamlet chuckled. "Your sly ruse could not trick one set of eyes: the Queen's, who in passing gave me hints, yet I was blind to them."

"Ha!" Horatio laughed. "A mother's eyes rival the eyes of God; twas she who bid me tell you."

"Ay, I'm pleased," Hamlet replied, nodding. "But to be devoutly wished…" He glanced towards the dance hall, which had begun a lively Danish folk dance. He wasn't even a king and he already felt like he failed those closest to him: no matter how much power he had he could not let Horatio and Frederick dance freely.

Horatio and Frederick looked at each other sadly. "Yes, my prince," Horatio murmured. At a nod from his love, he stood up straighter and looked Hamlet in the eye. "Tis that which led us to this conclusion, to bid you farewell and leave Danish lands, to live as two halves of one whole being as you do with Lady Ophelia; Laertes knows such like-minded people in French countryside, and there we will live among those who also wish to love men and God without shame."

Hamlet should have guessed that those words were coming, but he was not prepared for the feelings that welled to the surface. He tried to mask them as best he could. "I…I wish you the best, Horatio, friend, yet two conditions I present to you."

Horatio nodded vigorously. "Tell, and I will grant them."

Hamlet couldn't help but laugh. "Horatio, thy loyalty is true. First, stay awhile until my crowning day; I cannot think of that day without you, my friend, you kept me sane throughout it all."

Horatio glanced at Frederick, who nodded. They smiled together and Horatio replied, "Yes, my lord, we shall."

"And second…" Hamlet reached out and rubbed Horatio's shoulder. "Ere you leave to become French, I beg the privilege of drinking with you one time—the last—as brothers of knowledge; allow me a debate that lasts till dawn when the barman quits."

At his words, Horatio began to look like he was holding back emotions as well. "Twill be done, my lord."

"Thank you," Hamlet murmured. Then he let go of Horatio's shoulder and took a step back. "Now, drink, be merry! I'll have no tears at my wedding, lest they be of joy or drunk revelries."

Horatio blinked hard. He breathed deeply and smiled, despite whatever was going through his head. Then, he let go of Frederick's hand and stepped forward to hug the prince tightly.

"Thank you…Hamlet," he said, "You will be a great king."

Hamlet closed his eyes tightly and returned the embrace. It was over, wasn't it? Everything was: the good times debating at university, when life seemed so simple, and the bad, filled with self-doubt, over-thinking, and halted action. The wedding guests could use revelry to move past the turmoil of the past few months, but some could not. The queen still mourned both of her husbands' deaths, Laertes was no doubt a few years behind his schoolmates, and Ophelia would be parted from her brother once more. And yet, at this wedding, Horatio and Frederick had been given hope of living a normal life. Hamlet was not the same man who returned from Wittenburg, and that was a glimmer of hope in itself; he had to remember that.

With a final nod, Hamlet pushed himself away from Horatio. "Your words sound of farewells; I'll not have it," he said, sniffing. "Frederick, put a stop to them for good; I charge you, as your prince still, make merry!"

Horatio smiled and returned the nod. He looked to Frederick, clasped hands with the other man, and disappeared into the crowd. Perhaps they were off to look for a quiet corner of the castle where they could dance and plan the rest of their happy days in peace.

The prince looked after them, before he smiled and wiped the corners of his eyes. He mentally chided himself for his selfish desires – he was at his wedding, just as he stated. How, he wondered, could someone be so happy and so sad at once? What use were men's brains if they could not decide between simple opposites?

He felt a tap on his elbow, and Hamlet to see his lady love standing beside him. All thoughts of sadness faded to be replaced with their hopeful counterparts. He must remember to ask Laertes for the name of Horatio and Frederick's new home so he could make time to write to them and visit.

Hamlet cupped Ophelia's cheek. She laid a hand on his chest and looked up at him expectantly. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then chuckled. "I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, 'I love you',"*** he murmured.

Ophelia giggled and turned her head to kiss the palm of his hand. "Doubt thou the stars are fire—"

Hamlet's eyes widened comically. "Oh…"

She planted another kiss to his palm. "Doubt that the sun doth move—"

"No, oh, no," he muttered in exasperation.

She giggled and gave him a final kiss. "Doubt truth to be a liar…" She looked up at him with playful eyes.

Hamlet sighed heavily but could not prevent his smile. "But never doubt I love."

Ophelia laughed and leaned into his shoulder. He leaned his head against hers, grinning like a love-struck fool. How coy of her, to quote perhaps the silliest and most over-the-top love poem he ever gave to her! He wondered what he could do later that evening to playfully embarrass her in turn.

With hands clasped, the lovers slowly swayed to a music all their own.

*/*/*/*

* Henry V, Act 5 Scene 2

** Henry VI part 3, Act 4 Scene 6

*** Henry V, Act 5 Scene 2

I chose to use quotes from two of the King Henry historical plays for three reasons. One, they're super cute wedding quotes (it's so weird to me that I get the best wedding quotes from the histories and not the romantic comedies). Two, Hamlet is such a nerd that I'd be surprised if he didn't quote historical figures in his wedding (the Henry's were all written years before Hamlet, so at least it's chronological!). And lastly, I couldn't find what actual vows were spoken for a 17th century Danish or English wedding, the year "Hamlet" was written. I did find a variety of Danish wedding traditions, so I tried to incorporate those as much as possible – made more sense than using English traditions, even though that would be truer to what Shakespeare was likely more familiar with. I took most of my research from a web article called "Danes really know how to spice up a wedding" written by Mia on the website "The Hope Chest". It's a fascinating read!

*/*/*/*

It is…done? Really? Well and truly?

If there is anything I have in common with Hamlet right now, it's that I'm feeling two very conflicting feelings at once. I'm very proud of myself for getting this done – despite a couple select individuals telling me how this was a waste of time, I was able to complete something I'm ultimately very satisfied with. But I also took bloody forever with this – ten chapters is not my longest fanfiction, but take a look at that "first published" date and you'll see what I mean. Engineering school doesn't lend itself well to side projects.

I don't want to linger on that feeling, though. I'm glad that I finished at all; I'm glad I still have ideas for my next art project, whether it be written, drawn, painted, cooked, or baked. I am extraordinarily grateful to everyone who has read this little fic – this is not a flashy fandom, but I love how everyone who enjoys Shakespeare has their own reasons for doing so. I hope all of you will continue to be creative in your lives, even if the world is telling you no, even if you tell yourself you don't have time for it, etc. Just enjoy life, yeah? Flowers are the prettiest when they're next to you. ;)