Now in a direct departure from what ( very little ) I know of book canon, I need to discuss Horatio and his relationship with music. Amid my searching I learned that book Horatio is in fact tone deaf to the point he didn’t even recognize England’s National Anthem -and while this struck me as positively hilarious in such an absolutely patriotic young man – it didn’t fit at all with some of the notes and thoughts I had been compiling whilst going through the film series because I wanted to scream @seafaired about her son ( and consequently ended up adopting him. Whoops. )

Horatio is probably the most introverted person I have ever seen portrayed so adeptly on screen, and it immediately set me to wondering what outlets this young man could possibly possess that would allow him to stop being Atlas for a goddamn minute and just breathe – and being the lover of the most universal language that I am, my thoughts immediately fell to some sort of musical outlet.

That said, as much as he looked like choir boy material, I could not for the life of me imagine Horatio Hornblower singing in any capacity. I tossed around a few ideas before finally settling on something that would make sense for his upbringing as the son of a reputable, wealthy doctor and his background as a man of higher education – but simultaneously, something he would not have any form of easy access to while serving the Navy.

The reason for a lack of access is simple; Horatio’s growth ties directly to his achievements within the Navy and every single one of those achievements stems from him in some way overcoming social anxieties in patriotic fervor to relay plans of action. It’s easy for him to open up and socialize when there is work to be done – but he is still utterly reticent when it comes to anything about himself. If an outlet as simple as a violin or flute could be utilized, then doubtless he would have socialized all the better as music brings out passion in all souls, and ditties and shanties are all quite a bit more lively than contemporary pieces of the time. I wish to be able to explore Horatio’s journey into overcoming some of his internal convictions without an easy fallback.

Which was why I settled ultimately on piano. His access to this is limited, but it still provides an added element to him that can be used as a means of dropping his guard under the right plotted circumstance. As I said to Mani:

Everything falls away from him the moment his fingers settle upon the keys. Restraint, responsibility, propriety, inhibition — all slide from his shoulders and so long as he plays there is an exhilarating sort of passion, the unbridled, untamed tumult of his emotions bared free. It is the most honest anyone will ever see him – but when the last notes are fading there is a stillness, and a quiet.

Every single time, a soft sigh before he straightens up, stands ( bows if there is an audience ) and when he walks away he’s locked once more inside that stiff and perfect shell of a boy who would be a gentleman. Watching him play is like realizing full on how alive he truly is inside, and how much he holds back. Watching him get up again lays witness to that wildness draw back and there’s an understanding that for all the times he loses his tongue, there must be a thousand more in which he bites down until it bleeds.

And this was – to me – an intrinsic element to displaying the dichotomy between all Horatio thinks and feels in comparison to all which he actually displays and states. My threads with him are already winded things – lengthy internal exposition before one or two sentences can be wrangled forth – and I needed something that could oust him at appropriate moments, which lead, ultimately, to all of this.