I didn't know what I was expecting after that. I hoped that I would just get out, even though I knew that wasn't possible. How could it be? Fortinbras had to find who did it, and we both knew that if Claudius was smart, which I knew he was, would have told his assassin to get out of the country as soon as the goal was accomplished. And since the goal was not, in fact, to kill the leader of the country, but to get me out of the way, it hadn't been that hard. And here I was, out of the way.
Every time I fell asleep, I woke with a tray of food just inside of the cell, and a large cup of water. I don't know how they were able to time it so well, but I never saw anyone. After Fortinbras came to see me, I was left with my thoughts, and they were not good thoughts. If Claudius had done this, then he hadn't given into Horatio's demands, and that meant that Horatio was either dead or in a similar situation to mine. All because of my stupid plan. If only I had convinced Horatio to let me talk to Claudius. He would have been able to get out of this.
Well could he have? Would he have been able to convince Fortinbras to help him, or would he have been okay blackmailing the prince, if it had been necessary? I wasn't sure. But there was no point worrying about it now. There was no point worrying about anything.
My fingers ached, and so did my head. Even my nose had an unpleasant feeling after a couple more days, despite the fact that I couldn't smell the urine anymore. When I closed my eyes, I could see Horatio, in a cell just like mine. Did Hamlet know what was being done on his behalf? No, of course not. But if his best friend was, at best, in prison, did he know why? Maybe Hamlet had been able to get my lover out of the dungeon of Elsinore. He must have. Claudius had to listen to Hamlet, at least for now. He might have had the nobles on his side, but Hamlet was still a prince. Perhaps I should have taken him into my confidence about all of this.
No. He wouldn't have let Horatio and I risk ourselves if he knew, and he would die as scheduled.
The next time I saw light coming from the doorway, I felt a shiver of fear. There was the clank of armor. This wasn't the prince. This was... soldiers, and it couldn't be any good. I took a shaky breath. If this was the end, I would go down with as much dignity as I could muster. I stood on shaky legs, clasping my hands together. My dress was dirty and ripped, my hair a mess, but I would be strong if I was about to die. I just had to hope Fortinbras would still go to Denmark, despite me being gone. I would have no other hope.
I didn't know where my courage came from, to be honest. This was a story, and I was going to die in it. No one would know what happened to me, or why I never came back. But for some reason, despite how frightened I was, I just felt... alive. My whole life had never felt purposeful. I had always felt like nothing really happened for a reason. Everything was random. But here, here I was working to save someone's life, and it didn't matter that Hamlet wasn't a real person, because here, he was. He had always been real to my father, and maybe that was what Dad had really wanted me to learn. Maybe he had never really expected me to save Hamlet, but that the act of trying would bring me closer to him. And it had.
I had known going to Norway would be dangerous, but I had gone anyway. I could have just run away. I could have told Horatio what the king had done, and if I had asked him to go away, to run, he would have. Instead, I had kept going, and that's how I ended up here. But I was so much calmer than I'm sure you would have thought.
The clanking came closer and I did my best to stiffen my back. I was not going to allow myself to be shaky. A key turned in the lock, and the door opened with a loud clang. "Lady Corrine, you have been sentenced to death by hanging for attempting to kill our prince. Come with us." The man who spoke was indeed a soldier, and I took a deep breath. Hanging. That didn't seem like a pleasant way to do, and that's coming from a girl who almost drowned. Not like I had much of a choice here.
"I didn't try to kill Prince Fortinbras," I said. It was worth a shot, right? Maybe not, I thought, as the soldier grabbed my arm, tugging me out of the room. I shivered as we left the dungeon. I wasn't religious, but I will admit that I prayed to be saved. I wanted to be able to go home. I wanted to see Horatio again, and Ophelia. I wanted to see Hamlet saved.
They led me outside, where the wind was blowing fast. There was a platform set up right outside the dungeon, convenient for executions, I supposed. There was already a rope ready for me, and it swung in the breeze, just like my body would soon. I closed my eyes against the view. I knew how I had gotten here, and I could take pride in the fact that I had done the right thing, and I would see my father soon. I could tell him I tried, and I could tell him I was sorry for leaving like my mother.
As we got closer to the platform, I wasn't shaking from cold anymore. This was fear. I think we all fear death. All humans anyway. Even those with faith, there's just no way to know for sure what will come after, and if you can see your death coming, it all comes to you. If there is a life after death, will I have done a good enough job to go to heaven? Did I live a good life? Did I change lives for the better or worse?
The soldier that had talked to me shoved me up the stairs to the noose. No. I didn't want to die. There had to be a way. Where was Fortinbras? He had to stop this! I fought against the man, who wrapped his arms around me to keep me still. Still I kicked against him. If I just had enough time, surely they would realize.
Then I felt rope, rough against my neck, and someone pulled it tight. Up I went on a stool, and I knew it was too late. They would kick the stool out from under me and I would choke until I died. It really was over.
"Wait!!" I heard a familiar voice call out just as I fell toward death.
