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Hamlet

"Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother’s death the memory be green... we with wisest sorrow think on him together with remembrance of ourselves." Your uncle, Claudius, is giving a masterful speech. He is met with roaring applause. He's always had a way with words, just like your father had had a way with blades. You suppose you could've respected him for this, as a scholar yourself. Maybe.

Aye, uncle, except you think of yourself a little too well.

You are Prince Hamlet the second, of Denmark. You've grown up with a happy childhood in a loving family before you were sent abroad to study. When you heard that your king father was dying from a snake bite, you hastened back. You docked a day too late for the funeral, but you were somehow just in time to see your uncle crown himself king. And now for this grand feast to celebrate his new marriage to your mother, not even two months after your father's death.

You've never been very fond of your uncle's glib, slippery ways, but you've never loathed him as much as you do now. Something physically pains you to see him laughing and enjoying himself in your father's throne, with your father's queen at his side.

Claudius has apparently moved on from making pleasantries with his trusty adviser, and is now making comments about your lack of cheer. It seems he's also denying you permission to return to university in Wittenberg because he can't stand to be away from you - which is unfortunate, seeing as you can barely stand the sight of him. Why do you suppose he's keeping you here?