Chapter Text
In just five minutes, emails would be sent out to everyone who submitted audition videos for the Danish National Youth Orchestra’s summer program. Many kids around Denmark would find out that they had or had not been accepted to the prestigious program, and kids who had been members of the orchestra for years would find out what chair they’d be sitting in this year.
Hamlet, of course, already knew which chair he’d be sitting in. At seventeen years old, he had played concertmaster the past three years. Widely regarded as the best young violinist in Denmark, some people arguing him to be the best violinist in Denmark, better even than the musicians of the nation’s elite professional orchestra, he had been nicknamed the “Danish Violin Prince” by fans. He wore this nickname as a badge of honor. He was Hamlet, Violin Prince of Denmark.
Hamlet knew what his email would say. What he was more interested in was what other people’s emails would say. He hoped that his girlfriend- was she his girlfriend? It was complicated- he hoped that his friend Ophelia would be trusted with the part of first oboe after her extremely successful season as second oboe. Her two brothers, Polonius and Laertes, had already played principal for their respective instruments, bassoon and clarinet, in the orchestra, so he figured it would be her turn.
He hoped that the two young violinists he had taken under his wing during the regular season would be moved to the first violin section. He hoped that Bernardo would have a chance to play first trumpet after being beaten out by the just as talented Francisco the past two years for the chair. He hoped that Osric would finally get a seat in the bass section after frequently being asked to step in to fill vacant chairs for individual concerts the past three years.
What Hamlet hoped most, though, was that his friend Harry would be invited back to his position as student conductor for the orchestra. This position was only available to students during the summer, and the kid who held the position got all the responsibilities of a true conductor. He would get to program concerts and assign parts, choose musicians from other orchestras to fill vacant chairs, and he would have the far too powerful ability to decide where a string player would sit. Harry had held this position the year prior, and Hamlet believed he performed incredibly, programming many works by Hamlet’s favorite composer, Prokofiev.
When Hamlet got the email confirming his position as concertmaster, he turned to the group chat to ask everyone their positions in the orchestra. Laertes had kept his role as principal clarinet, and Polonius had kept his as principal bassoon. Ophelia had been promoted to principal oboe, just as Hamlet had hoped. The flautist who had recently moved from Italy was playing principal again, and Gertrude, Harry’s girlfriend who had once taken Hamlet under her wing, would be playing principal viola for the fourth year in a row. Osric had not yet been given a permanent position in the orchestra.
The group still awaited a response from Harry. If he hadn’t secured his position as conductor, he would not be part of the orchestra at all, as he couldn’t play any orchestral instruments at the level required to play in this prestigious orchestra. But Hamlet knew he’d be back to conduct again, he had to be. The entire orchestra had loved him the previous year.
But the news came in a private text conversation that Harry had not been selected as student conductor. Hamlet asked who had been selected over him, because most of the orchestra had thought that if not Harry, Gertrude would conduct. But Gertrude had been chosen to play principal viola, which meant that the new conductor was someone else.
Hamlet called his best friend, Horatio. Horatio was a prodigy pianist, considered one of Denmark’s best young musicians alongside Hamlet himself. He would be playing several concerts alongside the Danish National Youth Orchestra that summer, and likely heard who the new conductor would be.
When Horatio picked up the phone, he was in a practice room. Hamlet recognized the poster on the wall behind his friend, one detailing all the parts that make up a bassoon from his own practice sessions when he’d visit Horatio at the conservatory. Horatio insisted it had the best piano, so whenever they wanted to rehearse a duet, they would check if that room was available first.
“What does my lord Violin Prince of Denmark consider so important as to interrupt my practicing of Rachmaninoff?” Horatio said. Hamlet knew he wasn’t annoyed from the way he smiled as he said that, showing the laugh that he was keeping inside.
“Do you know who the conductor is this year?” Hamlet asked.
“It’s this kid named Claudius Kay,” Horatio replied. Hamlet nodded along despite not recognizing the game. “I don’t know how he got it, though. He’s only conducted one festival before, the Aalborg Opera back in March. I saw his Valkyries, and I wasn’t impressed. I could see the concertmaster doing most of the work.”
“You’re a good friend, Horatio,” Hamlet said. Horatio chuckled in response. “Few would insult the conductor to my face after someone other than the person I want gets chosen.”
Horatio shook his head. “That’s not what I’m doing, Hamlet. What I mean is…nevermind.”
“What do you mean?” Hamlet asked.
“Nevermind,” Horatio repeated, “It’s just an unfounded conspiracy.”
“You think he bribed the committee?”
“I’m not saying he did.” Horatio’s eyes darted around, as if he needed to check to make sure this Claudius figure wasn’t in the room with him. “But I have no reason to believe he didn’t.”
For a few moments, it was silent. Then Horatio said, “I have to go to a chamber rehearsal. I’ll talk to you soon. Oh!” He exclaimed, “And it’s April twenty-ninth. You know what that means?”
“No. Did I forget something?”
“It’s one month until we’ll see each other again!”
Hamlet’s eyes lit up at the idea of being reunited with Horatio. They would be able to play duets together again, Hamlet had been compiling a folder of sheet music since they were last separated at the end of Horatio’s spring break. And he would have to introduce him to Juliet, the flautist who had since shown up out of nowhere and impressed everyone with her skill. Hamlet refused to believe she had played second flute at home. But most of all, Hamlet just wanted to see his best friend again, for a day without Horatio lasted much longer than twenty-four hours.
“I wish my parents would let me come to the conservatory with you,” Hamlet said, “You have no idea how lost I am without you.”
“Ah, but what would the Danish National Youth Orchestra do without their Violin Prince?” Hamlet laughed, and Horatio, despite not knowing what was being laughed about, laughed too because watching Hamlet laugh made him giddy. “I’m going to be so late for chamber,” Horatio said. He and Hamlet said their goodbyes before hanging up the phone.
Exactly one month later, Horatio returned to Denmark two weeks before the start of the DNYO summer season. Hamlet managed to make sure he was the only person other than Horatio’s parents to go to the airport to pick him up, there would’ve been too many side effects if other members of the orchestra had come. Especially if Ophelia had. Hamlet hated having Ophelia see his reunions with Horatio because they were both confronted with the realization that he loved Horatio more than he loved her. So he always made sure to see Horatio before he was reunited with the rest of their friends.
It was unclear who tackled who to the ground, but when Hamlet and Horatio recovered from the pure excitement of seeing each other once again, they were both on the ground. Horatio’s sister gave them a sideways glance, Hamlet figured she must’ve never known true friendship. Reunion complete, Hamlet helped Horatio carry his bags to his parents’ car.
With just a week and a half left before the DNYO would be back in session, Polonius sent the invitation to the senior members of the orchestra to join him at his and his siblings’ dad’s house by the coast for the two days before the first rehearsal. As the heir to a pharmaceutical fortune, the Dastrup brothers were in charge of the orchestra’s parties. Ophelia, uniting her brothers through their common goal to protect her innocence, was not involved in the epic parties of the DNYO at all.
Upon confirming that he would be at the party, this was one no musician invited would dare to miss, Hamlet checked the guest list to see who else would be attending. Polonius and Laertes, of course, Horatio, Gertrude, Francisco, Bernardo, Marcellus, everyone he expected to see on the list. One name Hamlet was surprised to see was Claudius Kay.
Hamlet shouldn’t have been surprised to see the name on the list. He knew that. Claudius was the new conductor, and as long as Hamlet had been invited to this yearly extravaganza, they had invited the student conductor. The reason Hamlet was surprised was because no one knew Claudius Kay, and yet everyone seemed to already love him. Had the other musicians been in contact with him? The only knowledge Hamlet had of Claudius was what Horatio told him and the video that had been posted on the orchestra’s social media accounts, in which he seemed like a pretentious snob.
Hamlet arrived at Polonius’s dad’s house that weekend with his backpack of clothes and violin. He was pointed towards where he would be sleeping, a room he shared with Horatio and Laertes. Hamlet didn’t know why Polonius was always forcing him and Laertes to spend so much time together, everyone knew they hated each other.
Hamlet and Horatio found Laertes already unpacking his stuff in their assigned room when they got to it. Laertes wore an unbuttoned shirt with no undershirt, something Hamlet found to be extremely obnoxious. He was inside the house, he could at least button his shirt. But no, he had to show off to everyone he came across. And to make things worse, he had the audacity to speak to Hamlet.
“We didn’t invite Ophelia,” Laertes said, “Because we knew you’d be here. And we didn’t want the likes of you ruining her innocence.”
“Laertes…” Hamlet started, but he was cut off.
“Or making her feel sad by making out with your boyfriend in front of her. Like you did last year.”
Hamlet wished he had more of a defense than “he’s not my boyfriend,” but that’s all he could say. That, admittedly, had happened. Hamlet wasn’t proud of it. It had happened the one time Ophelia had been invited to one of the orchestra parties and she was never invited again after. “We don’t want her to get hurt,” Polonius would say of his and Laertes’ decision. And sure, chances were Ophelia would get hurt. But isn’t that a right she is owed, getting hurt? Laertes left the room without another word.
As Hamlet finished unpacking his stuff, Horatio, already unpacked, sat on his bed, adjusting the pillows over and over again. He knew not to leave Hamlet alone in a house full of teenagers who are placed on an orchestra seating chart; he and everyone else were looking for a bad decision to make. Especially after Harry getting removed from the DNYO roster. Hamlet described Harry as his second father, he taught Hamlet everything he knew about composition and conducting. Every positive attribute Hamlet had, he blamed on Harry.
Hamlet finished putting away his clothes, making the most of the two drawers and third of the closet that were assigned to him. Polonius was always like this, trying to keep some control over the orchestra by determining everything about how they would live for the three nights they spent at his father’s house before the summer season. Hamlet thought he really shouldn’t be in the orchestra any more, he was almost twenty, done with his first year of college. He should be getting a job, filing someone’s papers in an office. What was he doing hanging out with high school students, all of his friends two years younger than him or more? Hamlet dreaded facing Polonius again. With him being in college and not a member of the orchestra for the rest of the year, Hamlet had managed to avoid him. He could only avoid him as long as he stayed in this room.
“Bernardo told me dinner is starting in a few minutes,” Horatio said. Hamlet sighed and fell down onto the bed next to him. “Laertes is grilling. Should we go down?”
“Can’t we be late for dinner?”
A pause. Then Horatio said, “We can.” Hamlet prayed Ophelia would never know.
When Hamlet and Horatio finally left their room and took their place in the backyard where everyone was gathered, most people had already finished their dinner and were devouring the desserts that Juliet and Ophelia baked. They had been baked when Ophelia was still trying to get herself invited, but everyone received invitations except Ophelia. She still got swindled into donating her desserts to the party, and Juliet didn’t come in solidarity with Ophelia.
Hamlet and Horatio both took their share of what was left of dinner. Hamlet got himself a cheeseburger, and Horatio, a veggie burger. They sat on the grass somewhere where they hoped that Claudius and Polonius might not see them.
“Everyone say hello to Hamlet and Horatio!” Polonius proclaimed. A few awkward “hello”s were heard from the crowd of people.
“It’s good that you’re here, Hamlet,” Claudius said. He wore no shirt but had one slung over his shoulder, almost as a reminder that he could wear a shirt if he wanted to, he just didn’t want to. “Because there was something I want to tell you. I know you think very highly of Gertrude, that she is like a second mother to you. And that’s why I wanted you to know that she has asked me to go on a date with her and that I have accepted.”
But what about Harry? Hamlet wondered. Harry and Gertrude had been dating for two years, Hamlet thought they would never break up. “So you’re telling me in front of the entire orchestra?” Hamlet asked.
“It’s not the entire orchestra,” Claudius replied.
Polonius finished the thought for him. “Ophelia’s not here. Neither is Juliet.”
“And whose fault is that?” Hamlet asked. He did not receive a response.
“In other matters,” Polonius says, “My brother Laertes has exciting news he would like to share. He just found out today.” Hamlet hoped the news would be that he was moving to another continent and taking Polonius, but not Ophelia, with him.
Laertes stood up and took a spot up front with Claudius and Polonius. “I have been invited to study with the Orchestre National de France this summer,” He announced.
“Oh, thank God,” Hamlet accidentally said out loud. Polonius made menacing eye contact with him.
“Yes, let’s all thank God that Laertes has been given this wonderful opportunity, sad as it is that he will not be playing with us this summer.” Polonius looked specifically at Hamlet as he said the last part.
“But more importantly,” Laertes said, “I think it’s time we get the drinks out. Don’t you think so, Polonius?”
“I know so, my brother,” Polonius replied.
Hamlet dreaded having to deal with the intoxicated members of his orchestra, but he also dreaded having to deal with them without any alcohol in his system.
“Do you want one?” Horatio asked as he got up.
“I would love nothing more, Horatio,” Hamlet replied.
Horatio returned to him with an open can of beer. It was small enough that Hamlet could down it in just three sips. Horatio looked at him concerned as he immediately got up to get himself another. At some point, Hamlet fell asleep in a bed that he wasn’t entirely sure was his own.
Long after Hamlet had fallen asleep, the still conscious Horatio remained sitting outside on the lawn with Francisco, Bernardo, and Marcellus. Everyone else had either gone to sleep or gone inside to play games. When Horatio was mindlessly checking his phone at a silent point in the conversation, he heard a noise from inside the bushes.
“Did you guys hear that?” Francisco asked.
“Hear what?” Bernardo said.
“From the bushes,” Francisco replied, “I think there’s someone in there.”
Bernardo leaned his head closer to the bushes in an attempt to hear them better. “You’re right. I can hear footsteps.”
Horatio shined the flashlight of his phone on the dark bushes. “Is that Harry?” He asked.
Francisco stepped closer to get a better look. “What the hell is Harry doing here?”
“You talk to him, Horatio,” Marcellus said, “You go to college.”
“How does that have anything to do with this?” Horatio asked, “Do you think I study talking to people in the bushes? No! I study playing the piano. Does this look like a piano?” In his rambling, Horatio accidentally met Harry’s eye. “Hello, sir.” Horatio noticed that Harry had painted his face white, as if he was trying to look like a ghost.
“Booooo…” Harry said. Horatio rolled his eyes.
“Do you think I should throw a stick at him?” Marcellus asked. He had picked up a stick from the ground, an admittedly very nice one, long and Y shaped.
“What the hell, Marcellus? Why would we do that? That’s a living person, you can’t just throw sticks at living people.”
Disappointed, Marcellus dropped his stick.
When Horatio turned back to Harry, he noticed that Harry was gone. The spot in the bushes where he had previously stood was now empty, the leaves barely disturbed.
“Do you think he’ll be back tomorrow?” Francisco asked.
“What do you think he is?” Bernardo said, “Some sort of ghost haunting the orchestra?”
“I mean,” Francisco replied, “What else would you call him?”
Horatio heard a shuffling from deep inside the bushes, followed by a voice purposefully altered to sound like a ghost. “I will be back tomorrow night at eleven!” A pause, Horatio and the trumpeters stared questioningly at the bushes. “Bring Hamlet!”
“I think he wants to see Hamlet,” Marcellus said after a second.
“No shit, Marcellus,” Bernardo replied.
“Why doesn’t he just ask us to get Hamlet now?” Horatio asked.
Francisco chuckled. “If any of us were to know, it would be you, Horatio.”
The next day, Laertes returned to his house, Polonius with him, to pack his bags for his summer in France. Ophelia had been home this entire time, and Laertes saw when he got home that Juliet had stayed over the previous night. He thought it was good that she was making friends other than Hamlet, and he respected Juliet greatly. She was clearly harder working than most of the musicians in the orchestra, other than him, of course.
Laertes was finishing up packing his dress shirts when he heard a knock on his door. “Come in,” He said, continuing to pack. In an ideal situation, he would’ve started this the day before, but he found out with such short notice and was on the coast until that morning.
Ophelia walked into his room. “Dad told me to tell you that you’re leaving in five minutes.”
“Thanks,” He replied, then he said, “I wish I’d had a bit more notice that this was happening.”
“And I wish I could go to France for the summer to play with a professional orchestra, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”
Ophelia had been saying things like this a lot recently, these passive aggressive comments directed towards Laertes in particular. It must be Hamlet’s influence, Laertes thought.
“You know, Ophelia,” Laertes began. Ophelia sighed loudly. “You really need to stop hanging around Hamlet. You’ve been so much ruder to me since you two started dating.”
“First of all, we’re not even dating,” Ophelia said, “And second of all, have you ever considered that maybe Hamlet has helped me realize the errors of your ways? Maybe if you spent more time with Hamlet, you’d realize them too.”
“But Ophelia…”
“Just because he broke your heart when we were fifteen, doesn’t mean he’ll do the same to me.”
Laertes stopped in the middle of zipping his backpack. “How the hell do you know about that?” He asked.
“You told me when you were drunk. I wasn’t.”
“So you know what he can do, Ophelia.”
“I’m sorry, but it isn’t a criminal offense to break your heart.”
“Please,” Laertes pleaded, “Just stay away from him.”
Ophelia didn’t respond, and thankfully, she didn’t need to, because Polonius came in to tell Laertes that dad said they needed to leave right that minute. So he slung his backpack over his shoulder and gave both of his siblings a hug before heading downstairs to leave.
“What was Laertes talking to you about?” Polonius asked Ophelia once he had left.
“Oh, it was nothing,” Ophelia replied.
“I wanted to talk to you about Hamlet,” Polonius said. Ophelia made a point to sigh louder than she had when Laertes had brought him up.
“We’re not dating.”
“Good,” Polonius said, “You shouldn’t be. How are you going to ensure that you never date in the future?”
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Language, Ophelia!” Polonius shouted. Ophelia rolled her eyes. Polonius was always acting like he was her dad, and a bad dad at that. “That boy is trouble. If you get involved with him, he will lead you down a path of degeneracy. I’m worried he already has, given you just swore at me. Now, Ophelia, how are you going to ensure that you never date in the future?”
“Maybe just say no if he asks me out? It’s not that hard.”
Polonius shook his head. “I can’t trust you to do that. You need to spend absolutely no time with him at all, with the exception of rehearsals. If I find out that you are at his house or he is at ours, or you are seeing each other in another location, there will be consequences.”
“You’re not my father, what can you even do?” Ophelia asked.
“Your good reeds…” Polonius started.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Ophelia said.
“So stay away from him, Ophelia, and your reeds stay safe.”
That afternoon at Polonius’ father’s vacation home, Hamlet and Horatio were basking in the joy of not having Laertes around. This left them with a room to themselves, and somehow, with even more space in the room, they always found themselves closer together. When Hamlet decided he needed a break from the noise of the orchestra with no adult supervision, Horatio would follow him up to their room and they’d sit on the bed that had once been Laertes’, it was the nicest one in the room. Laertes had claimed the real bed that was there all the time, leaving Hamlet and Horatio with the makeshift cots, but Laertes wasn’t there anymore.
The old piano that Horatio used to practice on during these youth orchestra outings was still exactly where it was last year, the basement that no one else liked to spend time in. But Horatio considered this all the more reason to take Hamlet down there and practice duets. That’s what they did after they had eaten dinner until ten at night.
“We should go to sleep, ‘Ratio,” Hamlet said, loosening his bow.
“We can’t yet,” Horatio replied.
“Why?” Hamlet asked, “You waiting for a good night kiss?”
“No,” Horatio said, “No. It’s…it’s…Harry showed up last night.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I have no idea. But he wants to talk to you.”
“Where is he?” Hamlet asked.
“I don’t know, " Horatio responded, “Last night, he said he’d come at eleven.”
“Couldn’t he have promised to show up earlier?” Hamlet said, “I want to sleep.”
“I don’t know.” Horatio picked his sheet music up and held out his hand for Hamlet. “Let’s go get the trumpets and wait for him outside.”
Hamlet slung his violin over his shoulder and took Horatio’s hand. “Why do we need the trumpets?” He asked.
“They were there when I saw him yesterday, so I guess they need to be here when we see him tonight as well.”
Once outside, Hamlet and Horatio sat together on two of the lawn chairs, facing the woods. The trumpet players eventually joined them, pulling up chairs of their own to sit on. There weren’t enough, so Marcellus sat on the ground, picking at blades of grass.
It was exactly eleven when Horatio heard that forced “boo” coming from the bushes. “Harry?” He asked.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Harry replied from inside the bushes, “Listen, I need to talk to Ham by himself. So if you guys can, like, leave, that would be great.”
At the slightest hint of frustration, a skeptical “um” from Horatio, Harry took a quick step out of the bushes to retrieve Hamlet. He dragged Hamlet through the bushes to somewhere where the others would not be able to hear them.
“Claudius bribed the committee,” Harry said. It was technically a whisper based on the quality of sound he produced, though it was still louder than his regular speaking voice.
“I assumed so,” Hamlet replied. He knew Claudius was not a good enough conductor to get the position based solely on his skill, and the rumor had been circulating among the musicians since he was announced.
“You need to avenge me!” Harry held his hands up to the sky in a dramatic gesture.
“How do you expect me to do that?” Hamlet asked.
“I don’t know, kill him?”
“But you’re not even dead. I don’t think I have a right to kill him.”
“Fine, get him out of his position, then,” Harry said, “Maybe, if he’s no longer conducting, they’ll choose me to conduct the rest of the season.”
Hamlet chuckled before it hit him that Harry was probably right. If Claudius were to lose his job as conductor, Harry would definitely be chosen to fill his shoes. He had plenty of experience conducting the DNYO, having conducted it for two years, and the administration already trusted him.
“I’ll do it,” Hamlet said.
“But there’s one more thing,” Harry said, “You can’t let anyone know about this. If your friends ask you what I was telling you about, you can tell them the truth, but you must swear them to secrecy.”
Hamlet agreed to Harry’s conditions. They shook hands, then Harry disappeared further into the bushes. Hamlet made his way back to the yard.
“What did he say?” Horatio asked as soon as he saw Hamlet.
“He told me to avenge him,” Hamlet replied.
“What does that even mean?” Marcellus asked.
Hamlet shrugged. “He wants me to get rid of Claudius. He told me I should kill him, but I said that that seems like a bit much when all he did was bribe the committee to take the position of conductor. We settled on simply getting Claudius kicked out of his position.”
Hamlet got no response for a few seconds. When he did, Francisco simply said, “Wow.”
“But you can’t tell anyone,” Hamlet said, “Harry made me swear you all to secrecy. No one else can know about our plan to get rid of Claudius.”
“I swear,” Horatio said.
“I swear.”
“I swear.”
“I swear.”
“Good,” Hamlet said, “We can’t draw suspicion. We should end our meeting here.”
And with that, the meeting was adjourned. The five of them went inside. As they were getting ready to go to sleep for the night, Horatio asked Hamlet if he really intended to go through with this plan.
“Yes,” Hamlet replied.