Hamlet had had them all.

~~~~~

Horatio was her first and her last; that just proved how important he was to Hamlet. Hamlet had known Horatio for years and they went to university together, but it wasn't until then when she really noticed his undeniable attractiveness. It was in her poetry class that she noticed his chestnut waves falling into his bright green eyes and felt weak at the sight of him. Hamlet summoned all of her courage and asked Horatio on a date, which he accepted, and she found later that night that she got more than what she asked for. At the end of the night, Horatio asked to kiss Hamlet and she obliged, resting against the door as she pulled at his jacket and gave him his first kiss.

That night, with gentle hands and softer words, Horatio led Hamlet to her bed and pushed her slowly against the quilt. There were whispered words, something about this being Hamlet’s first time and that Horatio would promise not to hurt her, as they disrobed and Hamlet saw a bare man in front of her for the first time. It was with those pretty green eyes that Horatio made her come with when he looked up at her from between her parted thighs. His mouth was something else and Hamlet couldn't picture another man to kissing her there, roughly thrusting into her right there when she asked for more, making her come more than twice in one night.

Hamlet and Horatio met up every now and then to do this and relieve tension or pressure; Horatio was the only one with sympathy when her father died and she fondly remembered crying in his arms the day she found out. Horatio was always willing and gentle in his affections for her, and that's all Hamlet wanted. It's why she loved him.

~~~~~

At least, that was until Rosencrantz. Or was it Guildenstern? Hamlet could never tell who was who between the two of them. They looked so similar with their mops of black hair and their blue eyes. She knew, though, that she'd had Ros first because he was the one that made her laugh during sex. It happened while he fingered her on his bed as they watched Oedipus Rex for their shared History of Theatre class; he made a joke about how this must have been the way for Jocasta to get over having a much younger man as her husband. Hamlet had cackled, but it was short-lived as Ros hit something in her and thumbed her clit. She came on two of his long, slender fingers, her underwear pushed to the side, and her jeans still on.

They fucked right after that, Hamlet gripping the pillow beneath her head and staring into Ros’ sky-blue eyes as he thrust quickly and deeply into her. When Ros came, he had his eyes screwed shut and he held onto her tightly, leaving bruises on her hip and bicep. It made her feel alive and reckless for a moment until she came again, nails cutting into the skin of Ros’ shoulders. When Hamlet came to her senses, she and Ros realized that they both just orgasmed as Oedipus gave his final lines and they both broke into laughter, still naked and slick with sweat. It was nice.

~~~~~

Guil was much wordier in bed than his counterpart Ros. Ros had been silent, speaking only to crack a joke or to ask for consent, but Guil had to make sure every touch, kiss, and thrust was to Hamlet’s liking. And by all the gods, Guil could dirty talk. Guil sometimes made bawdy jokes in class, much like Ros, but Guil’s voice was stunning; all she wanted was for him to whisper something into her ear.

It was Guil’s voice that was the nail in the coffin for Hamlet. One fateful afternoon, Guil and Hamlet were doing research in the library for their philosophy presentation when Guil came up behind Hamlet and began to sweet talk her in such a vivid way that Hamlet had to squeeze her thighs together to relieve her arousal. He asked about her night with his roommate Ros the week before. He asked if she got wet just being next to Ros and how the situation started, and Hamlet could feel her body betraying her as she recalled the night with Ros in a hushed voice while Guil palmed her breast and worked his hand into her leggings against a bookcase.

Guil kissed her neck and told Hamlet he was willing to match Ros in prowess before pulling his hands away from Hamlet, leaving her whimpering and breathless for him. Guil took Hamlet to his dorm after she begged for him, and he whispered sweet nothings into her ear and implored her for consent to remove her clothes. Hamlet replied yes, yes to all Guil asked to do to her and let him mark her all over and take her three times that day. After, he hummed in her ear and held her tightly, like she was the only thing he had left. Guil was a good friend to her; he was always so honest.

~~~~~

Once, Hamlet had Guil and Ros at the same time. They talked her into it, using sweet words and wandering hands. When she finally consented (it didn't take much effort on their part to get Hamlet to do so anyways) Ros and Guil began planning the best possible way they could have her, and settled on the last night of finals to execute the plan. Hamlet had even bought new underwear for the occasion, just for them. Ros and Guil took turns, lavishing her with attention as she was blindfolded, forbidding her to see who was who. It sent a thrill through Hamlet as she attempted to determine who was who. The long fingers belonged to Ros, the slightly scruffy chin to Guil. They took turns with her, trying not to talk too much and give who was who away, but Hamlet was almost certain it was Ros who whispered “I love you” in her ear. Or was it Guil? She was so aroused she couldn't tell who it was and she found that she didn't really care. She could never tell between the two of them, anyways.

~~~~~

Ophelia was the only girl Hamlet ever felt love for. Ophelia was everything she wasn't; she was outspoken where Hamlet was contemplative, restrained where Hamlet was impulsive, blonde where Hamlet was brunette. They were two halves of the same whole, complementing each other and allowing themselves to burn hot and fast in the relatively short time that they were together. It wasn't until many years after they first met that Hamlet came to the conclusion that it was Ophelia who made her realize she was bisexual, that she was the only girl she would ever love. When they lived together in Elsinore, before Hamlet left for university and Ophelia stayed to finish her last year of school, there were stolen kisses and late-night visits that involved nothing more than spooning and talking until the sun came up. They were each other's first kiss.

Ophelia let Hamlet in when she came home on holiday for the first time and they stole away to Ophelia's room, pink and well-lit, to kiss and paw at each other's clothes before Ophelia confessed she'd been saving herself for the past year for Hamlet. And so Hamlet, with her past year of experience, laid down her sweet Ophelia and kissed down her neck. They pulled off each other's clothes and Hamlet used her mouth like Horatio, her fingers like Ros, and her words like Guil to make Ophelia experience pleasure from the hands of another for the first time. Ophelia cried out Hamlet’s name again and again, and it made Hamlet grin wider than she ever had before. Ophelia thanked her and made Hamlet stay with her that night so that she could reciprocate (better than Hamlet expected her to) and so that they could have those same, long talks they used to. It was a nice feeling, one that made Hamlet sentimental and warm inside. She carried it with her when she went back to school at the end of the summer.

When Hamlet returned to Elsinore after her father died, she was beside herself and upon seeing Ophelia, the wave of nostalgia she felt with the younger girl was far too much to bear. When she visited Ophelia after seeing her father’s ghost, it was to savor that last bit of innocence she still had, that last scrap of it from their teenage days in Elsinore. It hurt Hamlet to tell Ophelia she no longer loved her, but it was the naïveté that Ophelia had and Hamlet didn't that made Hamlet so frustrated; how could someone be so blind? It was so foolish. Still, it hurt no less when Ophelia died; Hamlet only felt her grief and despair increase as she wept over Ophelia in her bed that night.

~~~~~

Ros and Guil tried, but failed, to tempt Hamlet into their bed again when they came to visit her in Elsinore after her father died, but it was useless. She could see right through their ruse. She lost all respect for them; it didn't matter that Ros still loved her and that Guil yearned for her. She didn't want to be used any longer. She was in grief and she couldn't bear the feelings of worthlessness that came with Ros and Guil's deceit. She felt betrayed by her closest friends and lovers; it was enough to drive her mad.

So mad, in fact, that she would send them to their deaths, knowing full well what their fate would entail when they reached England. Hamlet was so numb. She didn't care for a moment that they died at her hand. They should've known better than to cross her and betray her in this way. Maybe once upon a time she loved Guil and Ros, but that time was not now. That time died when her father died. Hamlet no longer felt a thing. All of their happy days and nights melted away with the tears she cried over their deception. Hamlet felt so stupid for not realizing it earlier, for not seeing the too-obvious signs of Ros and Guil’s betrayal.

Maybe it was better that Hamlet was dead when news from England came and it was said that Ros and Guil were dead. Hamlet wouldn't have cared, anyways. Ros and Guil were already dead to her when they agreed to come spy on her and report back to her mother and stepfather. There would be no remorse, no sympathy to give them. It pained Horatio to know this, but he knew how fragile his dear Hamlet was and how terribly Ros and Guil hurt her. They were the next closest people to her besides him, and they manipulated Hamlet and sold her out to her own family. It was the sickest thing to do to a grieving girl, especially one as lovely and afflicted as Hamlet. Maybe it was just Horatio’s love for Hamlet that was blinding him, but he knew in his heart that Hamlet was justified for her actions.

~~~~~

Laertes… Well, Laertes was a completely different story. Laertes was two years her senior, and Hamlet had always been enthralled by him. He had such raw, masculine power that it made sweet, feminine Hamlet wet between her thighs. Laertes was a prize fencer, extremely skilled in how he handled the foil. He, like his sister, was everything Hamlet wasn't- in every aspect of life possible. And that idea gave Hamlet all the reason she needed to become infatuated with Laertes. He was so impulsive and devil-may-care; he was built and beautiful. When she was fifteen, Hamlet truly noticed Laertes’ golden curls and piercing ice blue eyes at a state dinner and she felt inadequate in her ivory ball gown. He held his head so aloof and so high, but Hamlet couldn't take her eyes away from him.

At night, Hamlet would find herself reaching below her sheets to touch herself to the thought of Laertes taking her, rough and hard and fast, after he bested her in a fencing match. He would be sweaty and stunning like he always was as he took her on the training mat. It was quite the fantasy for a teenage girl, but Hamlet had always had an active imagination. She came, shaking, in the dark as she bit her lip in an attempt to muffle her moans. Most nights, all Hamlet needed to come was an image of Laertes, his gorgeous blond hair mussed and his ivory skin flushed pink with arousal as he finished in Hamlet. Hamlet concocted fantasies of Laertes and her all throughout secondary school and college to get her through her loneliest, most lust-driven nights.

When Hamlet finally got the fencing match she wanted with Laertes, it was not what she expected in the slightest. She would be fighting to the death for Opehlia’s honor and Polonius’ death; there would be no sweaty and forceful sex on the training mats. There would be no rushed kisses and needy bucking of hips as Laertes pinned her down and just fucked her in one last play for dominance. Hamlet really didn’t want to fight Laertes, but it made sense for them. They were supposed to be the opposites of each other, right? It was that balance they needed to have in order to make the world right. Hamlet the feminine, Laertes the masculine; Hamlet the covert, Laertes the overt. Hamlet wanted to talk to him, maybe fuck him and change his mind, but she knew in her heart that any efforts she made would solve nothing. Laertes was too hot-headed and she was too calm.

Hamlet noted that Laertes looked so beautiful as they prepared to fence each other, and that this sight of him in his element, ready and prepared to fight, was the most perfect she had ever seen him. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch his face, trace the sharp angle of his cheekbone, brush her thumb over his lips. Even as Laertes screamed at her and slashed her with his poison-laced foil, Hamlet still wanted him. Hamlet’s only regret was that she had never gotten to kiss Laertes before she had to oppose him.

~~~~~

The last night before Hamlet went to die, Horatio snuck into her room and locked the door behind him. Hamlet sat up quickly in her bed and pulled Horatio towards her, forcing him to join her. Hamlet enveloped her arms around Horatio and kissed him through her tears. They pulled off their clothes just as hurriedly as they did their first night together and Horatio put his mouth on every corner of Hamlet’s body. He wanted to show her real pleasure before her match with laertes one she would most likely lose, and Hamlet called out his name and whimpered for more, more from the one man who loved her without fail and would never betray her.

Hamlet clutched onto Horatio as she tried to fall asleep. All night, the ghosts of her lovers mixed together in her head and all she could focus on was the pain. The pain of Ros and Guil, her closest friends, leaving her for greener pastures. The pain of Ophelia’s beautiful, inspiring, hopeful innocence dying. The pain of her idea of gorgeous, masculine Laertes being confirmed in the way she wished it didn’t. Hamlet cried her silent tears as she imagined Laertes’ foil piercing her breast, her abdomen, anywhere on her body, and killing her; it’s all Hamlet could hope for at this point she felt so empty and alone. Tears streaking her cheeks, she roused Horatio awake and with her cheerless eyes, looked into his sleepy ones, and begged for one last time with Horatio. Horatio rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and laid Hamlet on her back. He spread her legs and licked at her clit before rubbing over her sex with the heel of his hand. Hamlet squirmed below Horatio and came, tears still in her eyes, bucking her hips against Horatio’s mouth and gasping for air. Horatio entered her with a swift movement and rocked his hips, slowly at first, into Hamlet before his pace picked up and they were both chanting the other’s name over and over again, repeating I love you, I love you in husky, labored voices as they came down from their shared climax, the only one they were ever able to reach at the same time in their long relationship. They both cried in the other’s arms after that until they fell into a dreamless sleep.

As Hamlet lay dying in Horatio’s arms, she brushed his face with her fingers and whispered an I love you to him, so quiet so that none other could hear. She made him promise to tell everyone he knew of her, of how she lived her life. Horatio agreed, not wanting to turn against her dying words. Hamlet smiled up at Horatio, admiring the chestnut curls and green eyes that glistened with tears, and felt her heart burst and shatter against her ribs. Hamlet felt unwavering happiness as she died looking into Horatio’s eyes with all the love she did the day they first met- it was pure bliss.

Horatio watched the slight swell of Hamlet’s breast still as she drew her last breath and cried out in anguish; he clutched her dead body, burying his face in her chest, and weeped, not caring that Fortinbras entered the room as he did so. Horatio explained to them the horrors that had just happened, and in Fortinbras’ steely gray eyes, he saw an admiration for Hamlet. Horatio figured that was why Fortinbras decided to honor his sweet princess Hamlet like a soldier. Hamlet had fought enough of her own battles and was worthy of the honor.

Horatio could not bring himself to love another in the same way he loved his Hamlet.