This, like The Kaiba Heir, is an assignment I'm doing for school, however this is going to be a lot shorter, just the single chapter. My school (or my English teacher, at least) is amazing for allowing me to write fanfictions for credit, so here is another shout out to them.

As you can probably understand, it was difficult to replicate the exact style of Shakespeare, so I didn't. I do think that I managed to capture at least some of the flowery language that he used, but that is as close as I could get without butchering the original style or laughing out loud at how cheesey what I'd written sounded (it's still pretty cheesey).

I don't own Hamlet.

Claudius paced the garden of his brother's keep, waiting and wanting balancing each other as he continued his rounds below the trees and above the turf. Finally, he heard the soft sound of his brother's love's slippered-feet as the dear lady made her way towards where he'd stridden.

"Sister—"

"Shh, dear Claudius! Shh!" the queen hurriedly quieted him. "We must be quiet, as quiet as the church mice."

Gertrude clasped Claudius's hand and drew him further into the secretive depths of the garden, looking over her shoulder the entire way and causing a spark of hope to flicker in Claudius's chest. The queen led him until they were completely devoured by the shrubbery.

"No one shall be able to approach without us hearing their steps cracking upon the fallen twigs and branches yet to be removed," Gertrude said with her breathy voice hardly more than a whisper.

"What is that you have such a need for concealment before you can tell me?" Claudius asked, his voice just as breathless as Gertrude's, but for much different reasons.

"Do not try to make me believe that this is not what you want, Claudius," Gertrude said, her manner swinging from cagey and reserved to laughing and flirtatious in the matter of an instant now that they were hidden from view.

Claudius swallowed and licked his lips, tasting salt and not daring to truly believe that his brother's wife meant what she seemed to, what he wished her to.

The Queen of the Danes giggled like a young girl, no older than the likes of the lady Ophelia.

Gertrude took a long step and advanced herself until there was only a breath of space between her and her brother-in-law. Claudius, startled and fearing a cruel, sadistic trick, attempted to back away, just a short distance, but was ensnared as Gertrude's arm snaked around his neck and brought their lips to press against each other.

After a second's passing, Claudius gave into the kiss which soon became ardent and devouring on both parts.

This is right, Claudius thought. I should have been allowed Gertrude's hand, not my brother Hamlet.

When the embrace finally broke, it was Gertrude who initiated the parting, struggling slightly against Claudius's wish to continue. "Enough, my love Claudius. We mustn't go any farther, not when I am wed to another."

Claudius stopped breathing. He felt as if he had been thrown from a horse and the air had been driven out of his body. How could his darling Gertrude say such a pitiless thing when she had instigated the kiss? What a heartless, teasing wench!

Claudius was successful in his next attempt to pull away.

"No, Claudius, do not go! Do not turn away from me!" Gertrude cried, almost loud enough to warn any passersby of their whereabouts. "I do not mean it that way. I wished to convey how I wished to be your wife, not that of your brother. Please, Claudius!"

Fatefully, Claudius turned back 'round and allowed a moment of compassion to fill his heart for Gertrude.

"You could change that, Claudius," Gertrude said, quickly making use of the opening she'd been given and speaking swiftly, excitedly. "You could get me as well as the throne of Denmark."

Claudius's eyes became wide and confused. "Whatever do you mean—?"

Gertrude held up a vial she'd taken from a pouch at her belt. "Just take this, my lovely Claudius. Take it and, three days from now, find your brother, my husband, under the leaves of his orchard. Then, pour it into his ear and allow the hebenon to hand you King Hamlet's wife and his crown."

Claudius fastened his gaze onto the vial. "Why do you wish for this? Why do you wish for the father of your son's death?" Why must I be the hand that puts my brother in his grave?

"He does not love me anymore," Gertrude answered fiercely. "He does not love me the way I know that you will love me, Claudius. And, you will be just as good of a king as Hamlet ever was. You must do this, Claudius." Her eyes were sharp and determined as they stared into Claudius's.

"But, to kill him…" Claudius blinked widely and felt his mouth dry and open.

"Please, my Claudius, do this one small thing for me?" Gertrude pressed the vial into his numb, open hands, leaning forward and pressing another kiss against his parted lips. "Please, for me?"

But a few days later, Claudius found King Hamlet just where Gertrude had told him he would, beneath the trees in his orchard.

His Majesty lay sleeping, snoring softly but at a rate definitely indicative of a state of rest. He was fair from the realms of the conscious, but soon he would be even further than that.

Claudius took the vial of hebenon from an inner pocket of his robe and strode carefully forward. The king twitched not a muscle as his brother crept closer, and Claudius let a nervous, convulsing smile pull across his face and a quieted, hysterical laugh claw its way free of his throat at the realization of how easy it would be to rid this world of the adored and valiant King Hamlet.

Claudius tripped over his own feet in his sudden eagerness to make his way to kneel by his brother. The sudden fall to his knees jolted the king slightly and King Hamlet let out a questioning groan and resettled himself, but he did not wake from his slumber.

For five minutes, Claudius warily waited for any sign of wakefulness from the king. When he was finally certain that King Hamlet would not stir, Claudius quickly removed the vial's stopper and poured the liquid within into the king's exposed ear. He gave himself no time to think of his actions or how they would be judged in Heaven; he just did what Gertrude had asked him to do… for her.

Once all the poison had been emptied into the king's ear, Claudius stood back watched as the dreadful poison took the life from King Hamlet. He had meant to leave, to avoid watching as his own brother pass from this world to the next. But, the effects were so brisk and colorful that Claudius was trapped by his own fascination and could not leave even to save his conscience from the beating it would take upon his watching.

The first consequence of the poison was King Hamlet's ear and surrounding skin turning a deep, rancid magenta and bulging outward from the skull. It must have pained the king as the sovereign's snores died off and a short, hushed cry of pain emitted from his lips. Nevertheless, King Hamlet remained asleep, or, perhaps, the poison had already taken over his body and any chance of awakening was already passed the ruler by.

Second, the swelling and discoloration receded, but took his natural coloring from him as well, leaving the king gray and gaunt, but his breathing continued, harsh and rushed. It dimly occurred to Claudius that this was the final opportunity to fetch a man of the cloth to administer the last rites to his weakening brother. But, as that would connect Claudius to the death in even the smallest of ways, it could not be done, not even for his own blooded brother.

Lastly, the king's breathing eased and began to fail him. Giving into a perverse and sudden need to see if there was any way to bring his brother back from the brink of death, Claudius hurriedly leaned down and shook King Hamlet by his once-strong arm. There was no response from the soon-to-be ex-king and his arm waggled limply from where Claudius gripped it. As Claudius rattled him, the king's breath stopped, and his soul passed from his body, though not as far as Claudius thought it would, and Claudius was left shaking a corpse.

The corpse of his brother, a man who had once been a husband, a father, and a king.

His own brother, the King of Denmark…

He had killed the King of Denmark… but, soon he would be the king, just like Gertrude had promised. And, Gertrude would be his beloved queen, and Prince Hamlet would become his son.

As Claudius left the body of Hamlet the Elder, he momentarily felt that his actions had been validated and were less than the heinous act that they were. But, after taking a single glance back over his shoulder at his brother, who looked as if he could be thinking, only one word was able to pass his mind, sounding as if it were whispered in his brother's voice: Murderer.

Thank you for reading! This is most likely the last fic I'll ever write for a school project. I'm doubting they'll let me get away with this in college, so you can look forward to more The One Friend of Seto Kaiba and chapter two of Second Chance (which is still coming, it's just taking a while).

If you disagree with the idea that Gertrude was the one to prod Claudius into killing King Hamlet, you can go to my blog (it's on my profile) and see my reasoning in regards to that argument.