Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own Hamlet.

"Claudius!" Gertrude cried as she ran into the room her husband was occupying.

"Yes, my love?" Claudius asked, turning away from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

"Hamlet just killed Polonius," Gertrude said frantically. "Then he took the body and dragged it off!"

"That kindly old fishmonger?" Claudius asked, stunned. "Why, he never hurt a fly! I guess this just goes to show that Hamlet has completely lost it. Rosenstern, Guildencrantz, you two go and find Hamlet, will you? It's a good thing that trip to England is all set for tomorrow, this sounds like a public relations nightmare…"

"You can count on us, sir," Guildenstern promised he and Rosencrantz hurried off to look for Hamlet.

"Now, what happened?" Claudius asked solemnly.

"Hamlet's insane," Gertrude told him. "He started throwing around words like incest, murder, and eternal damnation and then he seemed to think that my dresser was his father…it was all very strange."

"How did the whole 'Polonius dying' thing come about?" Claudius pressed.

"Hamlet started shaking me so I called out for help, Polonius echoed my cries, and Hamlet decided that since it could have been you, he was going to kill him," Gertrude explained.

"Hamlet tried to kill me?" Claudius was shocked and appalled.

"I'm fairly certain he said something to that effect earlier," Gertrude pointed out.

"Yeah, but I didn't actually think that he meant it! Oh well, with any luck the court will have forgotten this by the time Hamlet makes it back from England. After all, Polonius was a loyal fellow, but I doubt people will get too worked up over a fishmonger," Claudius said optimistically.

"And, of course, I was in danger, too," Gertrude reminded him.

"What? Oh, right, you were. That must have been awful. So…how in the world am I supposed to explain this to the court?" Claudius wondered aloud.

- -

Hamlet smiled to himself as he shoved Polonius' corpse in a closet under the stairs. "No one will ever think to look for him here!"

Just then, his two cheating classmates stumbled upon him.

"Hey Hamlet, have you seen Polonius?" Rosencrantz got straight to the point.

"Not since I killed him and disposed of the body, no," Hamlet answered honestly.

"Where is the body?" Guildenstern asked.

Hamlet blinked. "What body?"

"POLONIUS' body," Guildenstern told him.

"Who?" Hamlet looked blank.

"That fishmonger you killed fifteen minutes ago," Rosencrantz said helpfully.

"Oh, him," Hamlet said dismissively. "What about him?"

"Where is he?" Guildenstern asked, gritting his teeth.

"In his makeshift grave, of course," Hamlet said, looking as if he thought that were a very silly question.

Guildenstern took a deep breath. "Which. Is. Where?"

"STOP SPYING ON ME!" Hamlet suddenly shouted. "You're a sponge!"

"That's not very nice, Prince Hamlet," Rosencrantz chided. "But since you're clearly crazy and we don't want to die, I suppose we'll have to make allowances. Why don't we take you to see the King now?"

Hamlet shrugged. "Meh. Whatever."

- -

"So, basically Polonius is dead and my nephew – who had absolutely nothing to do with Polonius walking into that sword – is going to England for a nice vacation. Any question- Oh, I better take care of this. You may all go," Claudius dismissed his group of attendants as he spotted Rosencrantz and Guildenstern dragging along Hamlet, who was complaining loudly.

"This is an outrage!" Hamlet was saying. "I just wanted to go fishing at 3 AM, is that such a crime?"

"I have no idea," Rosencrantz replied. "But that's not why you're here, remember?"

"It isn't?" Hamlet was confused. "But I could have sworn it had something to do with a fish…"

"Polonius! You killed Polonius!" Guildenstern shouted.

"Did I?" Hamlet cocked his head. "Oh, that's right."

"Would you mind telling us where you stashed the body?" Claudius asked.

Hamlet nodded. "Yes I would mind a great deal."

"Too bad," Claudius told him. "Tell me anyway."

"Oh fine…" Hamlet sighed, looking very put out. "Polonius is being eaten by worms in heaven and hell simultaneously, a portal to which can be found under the stairs."

"I see, I'll have to send someone to look into that…" Claudius mused. "So, Hamlet, how would you like a vacation?"

"I would love a vacation!" Hamlet said brightly. "Is it to Wittenberg?"

"Nope, England," Claudius corrected.

"England?" Hamlet made a face. "What's in England?"

"…Rain?" Claudius offered. "Tea? Witch hunts?"

"Well, I've always wanted to see a witch hung…" Hamlet conceded. "When do we leave?"

"Fine minutes ago," Claudius said.

"Wait…how does that even work? Do you have a time machine? Are you a Time Lord?" Hamlet asked eagerly.

"Um…sure. Now, hurry up and board the ship, will you?" Claudius entreated.

"Sure thing, King Incestuous Murderous Bastard," Hamlet agreed as he was lead off.

"You know, I'm really starting to worry about him…" Claudius said quietly. "Ah well, at least one of my nephews still likes me…"

- -

Prince Fortinbras of Norway stood dramatically on a plain. "Damn, this is a great pose. And the scenery! Wish I'd brought an artist…"

"Sir," his captain interrupted his musings. "Since we can actually see the Danish castle from here, don't you think we should go get permission to be here?"

Fortinbras blinked. "You mean we didn't already? Hurry up, will you? I mean, this kind of incident is enough to start a war and all, but I wanted to get Poland and THEN attack Denmark on the way home. Doing it the other way would just completely mess up my timeline."

"Timeline, sir?" the captain asked.

"Yes," Fortinbras nodded. "According to my calculations, if we hurry in Poland then we should get back here just in time for Denmark to be easy pickings as everyone even remotely important would have just killed each other off."

"If you say so, sir," the captain replied dubiously. Honestly, what were the odds of that happening? He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't see Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, and Hamlet until he had nearly walked into them.

"Hello, good sir!" Hamlet greeted. "Where are you off to this fine, bloody morning?"

The captain stared. That was a strange greeting. On the other hand, they were clearly Danish so… "We're off to go seek permission from King Claudius to travel through his lands."

"But aren't your armies already here?" Guildenstern asked, surprised.

"We sort of forgot…" the captain admitted. "Seeing as how we set off to conquer Denmark."

"What are you guys fighting for?" Hamlet asked, curious. "Honor, love, money, boredom?"

"Mostly that last one," the captain replied. "And also because we're biding our time so we can swing back and attack this castle on our return trip. Prince Fortinbras reckons it ought to be great fun and very dramatic."

"Well good luck with that," Rosencrantz said cheerfully.

"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me…" the captain said, making his way once more towards the castle.

"Fortinbras is sending legions of men to die because he's bored," Hamlet sulked. "And I've got heavenly retribution on my side and all I've managed to do is kill an old fishmonger! God, my life sucks. That does it! When I get back, I'm totally going to kill him, no more procrastination."

"It's nice to see you're working on ridding yourself of such an inconvenient character flaw," Rosencrantz remarked.

Guildenstern closed his eyes. "Why? Just…why? You know what, let's just get on the boat."

"Death to Claudius!" Hamlet shouted, laughing maniacally.

Rosencrantz smiled. "It's nice to see him so excited about something."

- -

"Why do you keep insisting I should see Ophelia? I don't really want to. Dealing with the bereaved is just so…depressing," Gertrude said irritably.

"I understand that," Horatio said patiently. "On the other hand, her father just died because Hamlet's a lunatic and you were terrified of your own son."

"To be fair, my son is a lunatic," Gertrude pointed out.

"But after it happened you continued arguing with him!" Horatio burst out.

"It's okay, Horatio, these are very selfish, shallow people who can't even remember who my father was after decades of loyal service. I've made my peace with that and once you do, you'll be happier," Ophelia said softly, entering the room.

"But Ophelia-" Horatio began.

"Besides, the girl has clearly gone mad," Gertrude said."I mean, she's dressed in black and is carrying flowers and everything!"

"People tend to dress in black when they're mourning, your majesty," Horatio pointed out.

"All I know is the last person to dress in black after a death was my son, and God knows he's mad as a dozen hatters," Gertrude insisted.

"Ah, so poor Ophelia's lost it, has she?" Claudius asked, having followed said girl in. "It's probably because of that old fishmonger's death. I hear she was very fond of him."

"He wasn't a fishmonger," Ophelia hissed, eyes flashing. "He was advisor to the King since long before I was born and he was my father! How can you be so stupid as to still not get that even after his death?"

"It's always the pretty ones," Claudius remarked sadly. "The court is getting suspicious that we haven't been entirely truthful about what happened to poor what's-his-name."

"POLONIUS!" Ophelia shouted.

"Very good, dear," Gertrude patted her arm absent-mindedly. "I told you that 'he sleep-stabbed himself' wasn't convincing enough. We should have had him declared a traitor."

"What is wrong with you people?" Ophelia demanded. "And why is everyone acting like I'm insane?"

"It's because you've stopped playing the game," Horatio told her. "They simply cannot handle that and so in their mind you're simply spouting nonsense. Observe. My Queen, what in the world is Ophelia going on about? I do not understand a word."

Gertrude looked piteously at Ophelia. "She's singing about how she slept with someone with the understanding that they'd get married and he turned around and refused to do it because she wasn't a virgin."

"I AM NOT!" Ophelia cried.

"Oh dear, whatever shall Laertes say about this second case of madness? He always was fond of the poor girl, I think. He may have even loved her…" Claudius trailed off wistfully.

"He's my brother! Don't be disgusting!" Ophelia's protests, of course, went unheard by everyone but Horatio.

"Laertes? Has he returned from France?" Horatio inquired.

"LONG LIVE KING LAERTES!"

"I guess that's a yes," Horatio said to himself.

"Is that an angry mob?" Gertrude asked, concerned.

"Is it that time of year already?" Claudius inquired, inspecting his nails. "Talk about bad timing."

"You killed my father," Laertes snarled, storming into the throne room.

"Laertes, my boy, I thought you were past this," Claudius said, sounding disappointed.

"I think he means Polonius," Gertrude corrected him.

"Oh. Well then no, I didn't," Claudius assured the boy.

"So he's not dead?" Laertes asked hopefully.

Claudius shook his head. "I didn't say THAT. Your brother killed him."

"Then why didn't you just say so? Hamlet's insane; people will understand," Laertes pointed out.

"Well, we would've, but he was all set to go on a vacation to England and we thought that it might appear that we were rewarding wanton murder if they knew, so we kept it a secret," Claudius explained.

"And now you have a borderline revolution on your hands," Laertes said.

Gertrude shrugged. "That always happens around tax day."

"It's quite possible that it happens every year because you guys are really, really bad at this and totally out of touch with the common man," Ophelia offered.

"You're not supposed to tell them that, Ophelia," Laertes said rolling his eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

"The King and Queen seem to think she's insane," Horatio offered helpfully.

Ophelia shot him a dirty look.

"Dear God, Ophelia!" Laertes cried alarmed. "What happened to her?"

"Nothing," Ophelia answered, annoyed. "I'm right here and reasonably sane."

"We think her mind cracked after Hamlet killed Polonius," Claudius explained. "She was such a great girl, too…you know, I think I'd like to see some justice for her."

"I don't need justice. I'm fine. Get some justice for my poor, dead father!" Ophelia told them.

"Alright," Laertes nodded, glancing at her again. "Tell me what happened so I may avenge my father and my sister."

"You know what, that's it. I'm leaving. If you need me, I'll be in Poland seeing how Fortinbras is doing," Ophelia declared, storming off.

- -

"I hope Ophelia finds the Norwegians okay," Horatio murmured to himself.

"Excuse me, do you know where I can find Horatio?" a courier asked.

Horatio looked startled. "What? Oh, that's me. Why?"

"We have a letter from Prince Hamlet," the courier said, giving him the letter.

"Let me see that," Hamlet took the letter. "Dear Horatio, the boat ride was excellent and I was SO looking forward to going to England. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern kept waxing existential and hiding from the Players, though, which was very annoying. Fortunately for me, there was a pirate attack! I switched the letter they had saying if I was annoying then to give to the English monarch with a letter saying if THEY were being annoying then they would die. Here's to hoping they weren't being annoying! Anyway, I boarded the pirate ship and convinced them to head back to Denmark. They said something about me being too crazy for them to deal with. Ah, well. Please escort these sailors to the King. If you need me, I'll be in the graveyard playing with skulls. Sincerely, Hamlet."

"So you'll take us to see the King?" the courier asked.

Horatio was still staring at the letter. "Wow. I don't even…wow…What? Oh sure, follow me."

- -

"So explain to me again why you buried my father secretly, didn't punish Hamlet for killing him, and are basically pretending that nothing happened?" Laertes sounded calmer, but not by much.

"Because chances are everyone but you and his daughter have forgotten about him by now and the common people and my wife love Hamlet. God knows why as he's extremely unbalanced, but perhaps his insane antics amuse them," Claudius shrugged.

"I can't just pretend nothing happens, I need vengeance. And I have a whole rebellion behind me that wants me to be King," Laertes reminded him.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Claudius assured him. "After all, I won't live forever and God knows Hamlet isn't fit to take the throne. Besides, I'm sure we can arrange for a very nice revenge accident should he miraculously return from England alive."

"Did you say something about miraculously returning to England alive?" the courier asked, sticking his head into the room.

"Why, yes, yes I did," Claudius confirmed, surprised.

"That's strange because I have a message for you saying that Hamlet intends to do the exact same thing tomorrow," the courier said. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

When the courier had gone, Laertes exclaimed. "Sweet! Vengeance will be mine!"

"I suppose I'd rather you killed your brother in pursuit of vengeance for Polonius than me as vengeance for your father so…why not? Besides, the court is starting to question Hamlet's sanity anyway. Still, we don't want any messy scandals, so how about this: Hamlet's been jealous of your fencing skills for years so how about we arrange a duel," Claudius suggested.

"You want me to make it look like a fencing accident?" Laertes repeated. "How? Have you ever tried to kill somebody with a foil? You have to put some real effort into it."

"Not if the blade is tipped with poison," Claudius countered.

"So…it would look like he just randomly dropped dead in the middle of the match and you don't think anyone would suspect foul play?" Laertes asked skeptically.

"No, definitely not," Claudius assured him. "People are rather unobservant. And should Hamlet win the match, I'll offer him a glass of poisoned wine so he's sure to die either way."

"But what if I win? How would I avoid drinking out of the glass without it looking suspicious?" Laertes wanted to know.

Claudius looked thoughtful. "Good point…I could always spill it, I guess…Or have a backup glass…"

"Claudius!" Gertrude screamed as she ran into the room. "It's awful!"

"What? What's going on?" Claudius asked, alarmed.

"I can't find Ophelia anywhere! She must have drowned herself in her mad grief!" Gertrude declared dramatically.

"I thought she said she was going to Norway," Claudius said, puzzled.

"That's obvious lunatic for 'I'm off to go drown myself. Goodbye cruel world!'" Gertrude explained.

"Ah. Well that sucks. She was REALLY pretty," Claudius said mournfully.

"First my father, now Ophelia…Hamlet, you're going down," Laertes growled as he ran from the room.

"And now he's pissed again. Honestly, it'll take forever to calm him down…" Claudius complained.

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