II. Observations

This evening, I find myself in the queen's company in one of the castle's many public halls. It is filled with the bustle of many courtiers. My father is present, wrapped deep in conversation with several of the king's men. Across from where I stand at the queen's side is a table at which the king and his brother are engaged in a chess match. The rain the wind had promised patters against the windows, loud enough to invoke the image of a group of small boys throwing stones at the glass.

I enjoy being with the queen. Unlike the king, who is a distant and dominant figure in my life, Queen Gertrude seems less like royalty and more like family. I can almost be totally myself in her presence – but only almost. I can never forget whose mother she is, and that she is first and foremost the queen before she is a friend. I do not know if I can ever fully accept her as a confidant, just like my father.

"You seem occupied, dearest Ophelia," the queen says.

"Occupied, Your Majesty?"

"Troubled," she clarifies.

"I am not troubled," I say quickly. "Merely… engrossed in my thoughts."

The queen smiles sadly. "Is that right?" she says, looking away.

I swallow. "Did I say something wrong, Your Majesty?"

"No," she answers. "No… you merely reminded me of my son in that moment. He, too, is always engrossed in his thoughts."

I am uncertain of what to say to this. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"You understood him," the queen continues after a moment, "did you not, Ophelia? You were friends. Good friends, from the way he spoke of you."

"He spoke of me to you?" Is it my imagination, or did my heart leap in that very moment?

There is something penetrating about the look the queen sends me now. She appraises me, but says nothing. I pray that I am not flushed of cheek. The queen is a woman; she sees things that men do not. It is not as easy to hide things from her as it is my father.

"Many times," the queen says. She takes a sip from her goblet. "He mentions you in the letters he sends me. He is curious as to how you are and what you have been doing."

"But I—" I bite down on my tongue and jolt myself with the pain. I had almost asked the queen why he asked her such things when he received letters from me himself.

My eyes are watering. The queen looks at me with concern.

"What is the matter?" she asks. "There are tears in your eyes."

And now she will assume something else…

"I am fine, Your Majesty," I say, blinking back the tears. They retreat as the pain diminishes.

"You are as affected by his absence as I am," the queen muses quietly.

"I miss him as much as I miss my brother," I say.

"Oh?"

"The prince is a good man," I continue. "The state of Denmark would do well to have him return to us."

"And he will, someday." The queen reaches for her goblet. She drinks from it, her eyes focusing on her husband and brother-in-law. "That game amuses them both," she remarks off-hand as she sets the cup down.

"Can you tell who is winning?"

"The king's brother," the queen says immediately. "He has always been much better at gaming strategy than the king." She pauses, her eyes lingering on the distant chess match. "Tell me, Ophelia," she says quietly, "do you know why he would trade royalty for scholarship? I have thought of many answers and none of them are satisfactory. Though perhaps a longing mother can never find a satisfactory answer."

I fold my hands. "Scholarship holds more interest than politics, wars and gold. It is simple and straightforward, something you can pursue within your own boundaries and with your own time. Scholarship leads you to question the unfathomable and see beyond the limits of reality. To rule… and I mean no offence, my lady… to rule would be to turn his back on himself and what he loves most, as for now."

"Is that what he told you?"

My jaw tightens. "No. Those are my own observations."

"You have a sharp eye, Lady Ophelia."

I bow my head. "I apologize, Your Majesty. My comments have distressed you. I should not have spoken as such—"

"No, no." She waves a hand. "Never. I thank you for your comments, Ophelia. They are honest. I have encountered little honesty of late." The queen takes another sip from her goblet. Once again, her eyes have returned to the king and Prince Claudius. Her ears are all mine, but her eyes belong to the two most important men in her life.

"Then, if I may offer one more note of honesty…"

"Go on, dear one."

Across the hall, there is an uproar of voices. From what I can hear, Prince Claudius has won the chess match.

"The king is healthy and strong," I say. "He has many years left to what will no doubt be a long life. Do not worry for the prince. In time, he will return to Elsinore when he has learned all he needs from Wittenberg. Then, he will return. He is a good man. He knows where he is needed and when Denmark needs him, he will be there for her."

"You have much faith in my son," the queen says softly.

"As you have said yourself, my lady, I am his friend." I look up and stare across the hall. The king his congratulating his brother. "I know a little of how he sees the world. One day, he will return."

He will return… those are the words I have been telling myself as the number of months since his departure grows. I cannot help but wonder whether I am clinging on blindly to faith – faith that he will one day return to me. Can love breach a physical distance that continues for years? Though I write to him, is that enough? People change over time, and sometimes a heart cannot adjust to such changes.

If he returns, can he still love me?