Danish royal councilor – NOT a fishmonger.

I am aware that everything I write here is subject to general scrutiny and criticism. I fear not, because whatever words people say cannot fare more offensive than Prince Hamlet's own. Should the Prince himself delegate to respond to me, all the better, because I can then report to my liege Lord Claudius.

I was at the parade this year, as I have been since I was first appointed advisor some several decades ago! Though, I did not play in the troupe's show on the present occasion, for increased business in stately affairs. Still, Quince was quite able to put on a good show without me.

Now, I also celebrate pride month with the king in private, but that is another matter entirely...

The beauty of theatre is not knowing, is it not? Did you not find it jarring that Kent stated himself to be forty-eight in King Lear?

Nevertheless...if you are so curious, I could indulge you. On the day of my death in my particular iteration of Elsinore, perhaps, then:

-I was sixty-three.

-Hamlet was twenty-one. Ignore the Gravediggers.

-Ophelia was nineteen, Laertes was twenty-two, and Reynaldo was forty-nine.

-Claudius was fifty, Gertrude was fifty-eight, and Hamlet the First would have been fifty-four. His birthday passed between his death and mine.

You would assume so, reasonably, but I did not have much hand in their marriage. I was aware that Hamlet searched for a certain calibre of lover after the war - one that grounds him and stabilizes him, perhaps, patient above all, and Gertrude proved to be proficient to him, and to me also.

We had...a fair measure of stories, some fun, some decidedly less fun. When we were actual children - or, more exactly, when I was a teenager and when Hamlet and Claudius were not yet so - Claudius would fall asleep whenever I attempted to converse with them, which annoyed me greatly and amused Hamlet greatly. Frankly, we only grew closer around the years when the war with Norway started. We spent quite some time on the battlements stargazing, and we may have huddled together on multiple occasions not solely for warmth. There was also that breakfast when Hamlet declared to me abruptly that he considered me 'part of the family' now, whatever that means...and we engaged regularly in pillowfights, believe it or not.