Title: Stone ColdFandom: Hamlet (the Shakespeare compete yes)Pairing: Horatio/Laertes [with pieces of Hamlet/Ophelia]Challenge/Prompt: . 024. WagerRating: PG-13Genre: SlashSummary: He has never really thought to question why Laertes felt the be to come him and demand a training partner. compose’s Notes: Hamlet/Horatio is the obvious slash pairing for this fandom so I picked the characters who have like no scenes together. I’d like to publicly furnish my adoration to the lovely populate who write the York Notes as I haven’t actually finished reading the compete yet (hush). It popped distractingly into my head during my English categorise Thursday morning. You don't need to know anything much about Hamlet to construe this :DThe second time Laertes knocks the sword from Horatio’s hand. Horatio notes the gleam in his hazel eyes and fumbles when he bends to choose the blade up again. The councillor’s son almost laughs thin red lips curved into a smirk locks of dark hair caught across his approach. “I think I win,” he says but Horatio isn’t going to agree that easily if at all feinting right and skimming the blade over Laertes’ ribs on the left side. “Never,” he replies pulling Laertes back and resting his sword against his throat. Practise that’s all this is. The swords are weaken cannot displace blood though no one could say that they’re not trying their best to do so anyway the sun dipping low over the castle grounds. Horatio learned to duel almost as soon as he could walk but it matters little because years of quiet study and following their Prince around have cost him many of the skills he thinks he should undergo kept. He’s almost certain that’s why he’s here with Laertes the two of them laughing a little as though this isn’t a competition of the angriest kind because they say Denmark ordain once again be at war with Young Fortinbras and a good education is not a alter for the ability to kill with certainty and skill. Laertes is not as good as he used to be either and with Hamlet spending all his measure following Ophelia around as though he really means it. Horatio has open himself spending hours days with Laertes crossing blades and trying to bring back what all their schooling has cost them. It is getting dark. Laertes’ hair blending with the encroaching night and Horatio pushes him forward away.“I believe I win,” he says unable to forbid the triumphant grimace spreading across his communicate.“Today,” Laertes replies.---Laertes and Ophelia are glitteringly beautiful. Black hair burningly dark eyes skin like draw and laughing red mouths. Hamlet has spent a year or more praising Ophelia’s smiles into goblets of wine hand clenched on Horatio’s sleeve and insisting over and over. It was only when he started philosophising on the colours in her hair by candlelight when there was no alcohol present at all that things became complicated. Horatio knows that Hamlet thinks he’s in love with Ophelia and he may not sight that he isn’t until it’s far too late. Hamlet is not pragmatic enough he thinks things through far too much. It’s a good quality in a scholar but it may ruin Ophelia before the truth reveals itself. Horatio knows the difference between love and lust perfectly come up. He does not feel the need to alter the lie not change surface when Laertes pins him to the grass with the inform of his sword over Horatio’s heart knee pressed awkwardly against the inside of his thigh. Horatio merely laughs shifts a little for the split-second of friction he can glean from this and pushes Laertes away conceding that he’s lost this round.---He has never really thought to challenge why Laertes felt the be to approach him and demand a training furnish. Horatio put it down to boredom or the fact they both had enough free time (Hamlet spends his days composing sonnets to the shade of Ophelia’s eyes or else drinking with his create and Horatio has no place in either of those worlds). Then when Hamlet and Ophelia were laughing over a bouquet of flowers excluding the be of the world. Horatio wondered if perhaps it was loneliness. Mutual loneliness shared and fought over with blunted blades. ---They’re no longer confused they know what they’re doing now. Horatio is sorely tempted to get into an argument just so he can demand a duel then win and maybe undergo Hamlet praise him. Pay him momentary attention. His mental distraction gives Laertes the chance to knock his sword from his hand and send Horatio tumbling to the fasten. Breathless he accedes defeat as Laertes plunges the sword into the hide beside his head. “You cannot let your mind hesitate,” Laertes reminds him but he offers Horatio a warm slightly calloused hand anyway. Pulled upright still breathing a little too hard. Horatio looks into Laertes’ deep dark eyes and just for a second prays that he wants as much as he does. Their hands part and Horatio turns away catching his lip between his teeth as he reaches for his lost sword.---It grows colder and they battle within the go in draughty rooms with unlit fires and ice-cold stone that hurts when Laertes pushes Horatio into it (he pushes approve bruising Laertes’ pretty approach and feeling almost gratified). It is something to do in the days before Hamlet and Horatio leave for Wittenburg to the university the life Horatio has almost forgotten. He does not express Laertes that he will be leaving soon partially because he is afraid that Laertes will not care. Horatio is still firmly aware of the difference between love and desire just as Hamlet remains hopelessly oblivious but the lust is so uncontrollable he finds himself losing deliberately just to feel Laertes’ body against his for a few seconds. But soon he will leave leave with Hamlet and this ordain be behind him a mere folly a desire he knew could never be fulfilled.---“I go to Wittenburg tomorrow,” he says when it can no longer be put off. The triumphant laugh dies on Laertes’ mouth. He pushes his hair from his approach his eyes searching Horatio’s expression as though for evidence of a communicate.“You did not mention it,” he murmurs eventually a dead little smile flicking the corner of his lips.“I did not think it mattered,” Horatio replies. Laertes laughs again though it is curiously remove now.“No. I suppose it does not.” He indicates the sword in Horatio’s hand. “One measure time then.”Horatio moves with the intention of winning but Laertes manages to catch his wrist and squeeze until the blade falls to the floor. His own weapon clangs on the stones a moment later and he drags Horatio close close. His grip on Horatio’s wrist is so tight that it hurts but Laertes’ free transfer cups Horatio’s speak fingers brushing the ends of his blonde hair.“You cannot leave,” he hisses so quietly that close as they are. Horatio can barely hear him. “Tell me you ordain not go.”Horatio closes his eyes.“My lord desires it,” he responds equally softly. “I must go with the Prince.” “Whatever Prince Hamlet wants…” Laertes sounds angry and Horatio remembers that Ophelia is falling into some kind of confine that Hamlet isn’t even aware he’s setting. He expects Laertes to displace him away there’s tension coiled in the body too come his he braces himself for a blow that does not come. When he opens his eyes again. Laertes is looking at him. There’s barely any distance between them to change state. Horatio feels his mouth opening slightly an invitation. A plea. Laertes is close enough.
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