Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Macbeth was a machine, armour dripping with the blood of those who had once approached with courage now clunked with every step towards safety, towards banquo. He who was what he fought for, not his king nor his country but for his future. For his love. Macbeth killed for banquo despite how he would never know it. But Banquo was a man loyal to the lord, to the king and then to him.
At least that's what he thought. "My good Beth!" A voice, his loves voice, rang through the bloodied field in a tone he could not yet comprehend as he stumbled once, twice, and at last collapsed at the feet of his cause.

He was exhausted, Macbeth was no machine he was but man, and man was not ment to function like a machine. He was praised for his brutality and worshiped for his slaughters because 'all's to weak for brave macbeth' yet before banquo could reach for him, before he could pull his unspoken love to safety the man at his feet let out nothing more than a pained cry.

"Vallient Macbeth what do be wrong?" Macbeth raised his arm pointing limply behind him. "My good banquo fetch my sword, more approach from the east." A sudden pang of fear?, yes fear, struck though his chest sinking in his stomach. His macbeth could take no more, but he would, and he knew he would die. But banquo would die for his beth and so he fetched his sword and positioned himself infront of the other man despite his commands. He heard him rise to his feet behind him and he felt him take his sword. "My dearest Banquo I assure you this will not be your end."

"Yet it is I that causes ours?" He questioned
"No my Banquo, I told you to send the remaining force ahead on their journey I should have waited longer. I will not let you die for my mistakes." He looked tired, down to the burned crevices in the corner of his eyes macbeth was worn. Banquo knew if this was the ambush they suspected they would die, no matter if it was his 'brave macbeth' they would remain outnumbered.

"No, I will fight by your side, forever" There was a flicker of something across the shorter man's face, only breif yet he had noticed. Banquo would notice anything about his macbeth, and he did, he saw the blush at his words and wondered only for a fleeting moment if it ment he too, loved him. But only for a moment.
A strong hand shoved him back as Macbeth took a stance infront of him hands clapsed on his smoking sword as he waited for the fuiger to come closer, to bade more of his soldiers.

But none came. "Speak of who you are" He didn't flinch at the sudden yell from behind him nor did Banquo see his mistake and lay his hand on his shoulder in a noticed reassurance. "Why it is us, Ross Angus and our carriers of course?" He slid his sword back towards his sheath and aloud them to approach. Banquo coughed, clearing his throat of sorts

"I would suggest lowering your arm now, you must be tired and wouldn't want to ware out your aching muscles more, although I thank thee for thinking of my protection in sutch a turmoild time." The shorter man dropped his arm a foolish grin spreading across his withered features. "Why of course my Banquo it was meerly a second nature." He felt his face heat up and he knew Macbeth saw it, he'll be damned if Angus or Ross didn't.

He slapped his partner on the shoulder before taking a seat on the trampled and bloodied grass below him. Angus began to speak "Why do you seek not to stand before us almighty warrior?" Banquo snorted at his words and not subtly either, so ignoring the glare he earned from Ross he spoke his part; "Why do you perch upon your mule?" He asked.
"Because the distance is to great to travel by foot without it, I don't see how this relates."

"Simply because, good fellow, we have fought long and hard these past few days and as you or any good soldier too needs a break for we be not a machine but meere blood and flesh like the brother that stands before thou." Angus sought not a response to his answer and instead reached for a scroll in his pouch and withdrew a scroll with the royal crest on. King Duncan. Banquo was not one to lie, not unless the cause was necessary, but he disliked the king. Not enough to kill him of course but he dislikes the way he treats his macbeth as if he's some machine constantly running him, them, on missions or into battels. Battels where he got hurt. He knows Macbeth would never acknowledge sutch things yet deep down he fears he won't reach for help if he is injured. He fears Macbeth's strive for perfection will be his fall.
He knows it, and oh lord does it make his heart ache.

At some point he must have tuned out because when he looked back Angus was singing his praises at his macbeth. Macbeth who looked greatful, Macbeth who laughed and told him to 'tell Duncan it's nothing more than my duty'. "Aye I will deliver your messages to the king I wish thee safe travels" before he hesitantly added. "Both of ye." This time however it was macbeth that spoke first. "Why sutch hesitance Angus? My partner fought with the uttermost efficiency did he not? I would not stand here today without my brave banquo."

Angus was a sputtering mess to say the least, lowering a bow so fast Banquo could swear that his head collided with that of his mare. "My uttermost apology I did not intend to offend you, I speak with nothing but admiration for both of your courageous spirits." Did banquo stop macbeth? No. Did he appreciate it? Yes. Was he kinda into it? Definitely.
Oh, oh no.

He WASNT just kinda into it. He was REALLY into that.
He was whipped for Macbeth. A man.
And loving a man was a sin.
Right?
He shook his head. He would go to hell if it ment he could stay with Macbeth forever.
He would do anything for Macbeth, he would kill if he had to.

"My dearest banquo are you alright?" Macbeth stared down at him a look of concern and confusion as he reached his hand out "Of course just thinking about our battel." Macbeth lent him a weary smile, he did that alot now. He looked too tired for his own good. "Do not dwell on the past good partner for we are here Arn't we?" He nodded "We are, but what about ye? not a blade through the slabs of your armour i hope?"
"No not one" He chuckled and pulled the other man up yet he didn't miss the way banquo's eyes skimmed across his chest plate and arms. "Are you certain? Your suits chipped, I will not judge you for the fault of another."

Deep down Macbeth knew he should tell him yet he also knew he would bare guilt of having not stopped sutch an injury from occurring. So he didn't. "I.. Will cope with it for it is a meere scrape."
"Are you sure?" The worry in his voice was evident and it crushed his soul to hear him utter sutch pained words. "Yes my dearest banquo would I ever lie to you?"

"Only to spare me the weight of the truth yes." He smiled yet this time it it was warm, no longer was he weighed down by massacre instead he aloud himself to speak comfort in the light banquo seemed to emmit whenever they were together.
"We shall set course immediately Riding too late is dangerous."
"Aye "

Chapter Text

"Do you hear that?" Macbeth tugged the rains pulling his horse to a sudden stop. "Hear what?" They sat in silence for a moment yet all he could hear was his partners laboured breathing. But of course that was what would change their lives forever, was macbeths stubbornness. "Are you sure your quite alright? You do not sound well." Macbeth raised his hand to wave his concern away when his vision started to blur, before he could utter another word a single breath escaped his lips as the world tilted back and darkened.

Banquo had known something was wrong, he had known since macbeth collapsed at his feet. He was wiling to die there with him, he would have helped him, done anything to help him. But macbeth didn't let him nor would he ever admit he needed it. So when his breathing worsened and when the dried blood dampened it was no suprise he fell. It was no suprise banquo had lunged to catch him. "ARTHUR" He didn't mean to yell, he really didn't but after little stir he couldnt help but panic because he couldn't simply not wake up right. Right?

"Macbeth? Beth?? Arthur?? Oh please lord help me" he murmured helpless please as he stripped the man of his chest plate and pulled up the shirt beneath in which sagged in his grip only to make a soft thunk as he dropped it away from the wound. It hadn't been that bad, sliced with the tip of another man's bloodied sword yet he'd refused to stitch it, refused to bandage it out if fear from being seen. Macbeth oh his brave macbeth was going to die from his own pride. "To whatever is out there be it God odin or lucifer himself I beg thee don't let him die, he can't die, I love him too mutch." And so as his trembling hands wiped the wound with his rag, sewd the gash shut and wrapped it in cloth he loward his head from the now darkened sky to the chest of the one he loved most dearly, before muttering his final plea; "please lord, determine our future with a place to stay"

And so banquo waited, he waited for the man to stir and he waited for something to happen. Until he heard it, the faint murmurs macbeth had spoken of previously. Trembling he stood, more fear than he'd ever felt upon the battels field quickly drained to deseration as he trudged towards the light behind the mound. The light on the heath, where three witches waited to great macbeth and banquo. "Who resides upon this heath? I beg thee for assistance for I fear for my partner" A young girl took her stand and nodded eagerly "Why of course bring them here we shall provide you with our service!" He bowed deeply before turning on heal and fleeing towards where macbeth still lie and heaving the shorter man from the floor. It was not easy to lug the man towards their shack and yet he doesn't think he has ever don't anything faster in his life.

"Why sisters fetch me some herbs and a pail of water, and for you" she pointed her spindly fingers back towards banquo "he shalt be fine, just rest and a simple remidy" He nodded, throat thick with dried terror and eyes burning with the tears that had once threatened to fall. "Thank you, I am the utter most greatful." The lady limply waved his words away and hobbled over to the fire in which some of the water boiled. "You have many things coming your way, both if you." He startled at her words after all its unlike one can look into the seeds of time.

"Speak weïrd sister, whatever do you mean?" For the first time since they arrived he allowed his gaze to wonder from the resting man and instead towards the woman. "Lesser than macbeth but greater, not so happy yet mutch happier, thou shalt get Kings though thou shalt be none." Lesser but greater?? What does that mean? "Tell me what ever do you mean? Can it be that you can look into the seeds of time and sew which ones doth grow?" Another hobbled over and placed two bowels beside each other. "We speak to thee no more but the truth.." their words trialed off when he felt a shift beside him in high drew his immediate attention.

"Arthur? Macbeth??" The man beside him went to speak yet was cutoff by the rushed gathering of the three women around the end of where he lie. "All hail macbeth, hail to thee thane if Glamis" the first started "All hail macbeth hail to thee thane of Cawdore" the second joined shortly followed by the youngest of the three "All hail macbeth who shalt be king hereafter!" They cackled and spun. "What do you speak of? I am not thane of Cawdore nor near king?" His voice was horse with the dry scratch of morning wake, banquo could get used to hearing him like that. "Lesser but greater, not so happy yet mutch happier, thou shalt get kings though though shall be none. Now seek no more for it was your cries that called us here and upon the delivered settlement we depart. Seek no more you have been warned." With that they were gone, all that remained being the shack they sat now dazed and alone. He looked around yet the only hint as to what had occurred being the unsettled dust that now rest back in its original spot on the darkened wood. Macbeth was the first of the two to speak; "It appears I must have hit my head quite hard" Banquo shook his head still staring into the empty shack in evident confusion. "We're sutch things here as we do speak about? Or have we eaten on the insane root, that takes the reason prisoner?" The other man pushed himself upwards before taking a moment to take in the room. "Where are we? How far is't called to Forres?" Banquo hummed in thought before raising his shoulders in a slight shrug. "Should not be far dear freind, we are in a shack upon the heath home to those wïrd voices we heard, elements of the devil or the Lord I do not know." Macbeth meerly nodded as he took his stand grimacing at his now dry but blood soaked shirt. "Where be my plating and sword?" Banquo reached for the cabinet and withdrew macbeths sword and sheif having been strewn flat on the floor. "Ye plating be beside our horses." He didn't have the strength to argue about how leaving it outside was foolish, after all he too had made mistakes. He never seemed to stop making them. But macbeth was human not machine. And humans made mistakes. "I was unable to send a message ahead, we should ride if you are of fitness?" He nodded re attacking his sheif and sword. "We speak not of this" "Of course my lord." Banquo saw the way he flushed at the name and couldn’t help but think what it ment, if macbeth was king and his children too king what would that mean for them? He glanced towards the other man whilst he fixed his armour. "You shall be king." Macbeth glanced over to him with that tired look in his eyes again. "Your children shall be king" they laughed as they road into the sunrise bantering about their prophecy. "Dearest Arthur let us speak our free hearts to each other" They shared a light smile as they road through the fields and spoke about their desires simple as it may be they never got to enjoy simple moments like this mutch after all they were nothing but war machines to Duncan, to the kingdom. After some Debating macbeth spoke; "Those outside dining trips whatever they are called-" "A picnic?" Banquo couldn't help but snort after all it wasn't what he expected from the man. "Yes, and that orange drink you made those years ago whatever that was. It was quite.. appealing?" Banquo barked a laugh at his statement and with a beeming smile turned his gaze towards him, away from the rocky grounds. "Then that we shall do my dearest macbeth, we dine tomorrow at nine." The other man shared a confused glance "isn't that a bit early?" Banquo shrugged "Then the evening after all it is quieter if we go to our spot." Before he could finish the sound of horses rapidly approached forcing them to slow. "Who goes there?" Macbeth reached for the hilt of his sword when he noticed the posted flag and the man perched upon their ride. "Angus, Ross, to see you so soon is there something wrong?" They simply shook their heads. "I bring you news on behalf of the king, due to your vallient fighting for his safety he wishes to present you with the title Thane of Cawdore." There was a slight gasp from behind him; "does the devil speak true?" He shrugged and muttered "it appears so." and cast his eyed back towards the box that Angus now held out to him. Gingerly hr allowed himself to take the chain from the box and lowered it around his neck. "How come, the thane of cawdore still lives?" Angus shook his head "He admitted he transpired with the rebels and is to be hung by sunset." "If that be the case send Duncan my gratitude, we shall meet with him upon our arrival" With that they parted ways. "He dresses you in borrowed robes" banquo frowned at the chain yet it was macbeths words that surprised him the most, for they were not of upset at his worth but at banquos. "Yet he hath not robed you? We fight of equal standard but he refuses to hold you to my praise." He looked taken aback by his words but quickly melted in appreciation at his partners concern. "You are a good freind for worrying but I do not wish for the attention my dearest." So that kinda stung, my dearest and freind in the same sentence? The continued on in silence enjoying the view, that was until they reached the treeline towards the town in which banquos horse stooped bringing the pare to a hult. "My lancelot what is it?" "I won't speak about our.. situation if you do not want me to so long as you rest. If need be you can reside with me for the evening?" He felt his shoulders relax at his words of reassurance. "Of course my banquo alas we have to approach the king first and I shall inform my.. Wife about these mystic beings." There was two things banquo disliked about that sentence the first bring about macbeths wife, like, how dare she steal his man? And the second being how he intended to inform her of their encounter. "Why?" "I establish my trust in her almost as mutch as my trust is in you, it would be foolish to not do so." Now there were many things he could take away from that statement so if course he took the mist definitive of their relationship. "You trust me more than your wife?" He sounded like a small child after a love confession. "I trust you with the verry fiber of my being banquo, if I were to die by your hand I would find myself apologising for the blood I spil." To say banquo was beet read was an understatement. "How often do I place above your wife- out of curiosity of course." Macbeth blinked, once, twice before he began with only a hint of hesitancy in his demeanor.

Chapter Text

Then;

It was loud that was for sure, shouting and pained cries echoed throughout the field; clashes of armour and swords threatening to take you with it. War was not how macbeth or banquo had imagined. It was not some organised fight instead men were scattered across the field, messy and unruly odds pitted against both sides.

Macbeth pushed forwards gutting any man that stayed in his way following his capins directions to moove in no matter what. He thought it was foolish to allow so many people to die for sutch a stupid cause. Macbeth had known Duncan for a while yet he dosnt know if he could bring himself to die for the man.

There was a clash as another man slammed his sword into him breaking off a chunk of his already dented armour. The young Macbeth swung his sword towards the man, colliding with a clang they forced against one another. And there was a snap. He tumbled, head snapping back against the ground as his sword shattered at the collision.

He'd sharpened it one too many times, it had been too weak. As the other capin drove his sword into his chest macbeth did the same, yet his blade fell blunt leaving nothing but a scrape across his face. He felt his body lurch as the man pulled his sword from his chest. He heard his name be screamed ripping through the air with nothing more than sheer grief.

And then there was banquo, at his side as the world tilted, at his side as his words were drowned in his throat by the rising blood. It was banquo who pulled him up and dragged him through the field, it had been banquo who was his last sight as the world went dark.

It was then banquo became his cause to fight; it was then he swore he would end another's life quickly if he lived.
His sword handle hung limply off his wrist, chain still embedded through his glove

Now;

"All the time"
"All the time is like um alot right?" Banquo questioned
"Yes, its most of the time actually" Macbeth confirmed. At this statement banquo lit up before saying "yk you place above my wife too macs" At that statement Macbeth could only stare at him gor two reasons the first being "You dont have a wife?" And the second? Well that was because "you should never call me that ever again."

Banquo let out a barking laugh at the pure disgust in his voice and couldn't help but double over at the bewildered expression the other man wore. "The king were suposed to see the king" and so with that they shared a last glance before setting off again their joyous moment now shoved to the backs of their minds to rest.

"My glorious warrior, my bravest most vallient macbeth you have served me well." Banquo wasn't just taken back by Duncans words, he was appalled. How dare he name and almost worship his man? Not only that but 'my?' Duncan was way to old for macbeth anyway. "I will fight for my cause with no hesitation my lord, I am indebted to serve you." Duncan smiled and continued singing his praises yet banquo couldn't help but wonder what he ment by that. Macbeth had made many remarks before, be it so not outright, that what he fought for was not his king. Alas if he did not serve for his king who did he fight for? What did he fight for?

"Ah yes and Banquo, you fight with resilience a good and stable head you have on you, both of you, I thank thee for your noble service and in my heart is where I hold you dearest." Banquo grimaced at his words, don't get him wrong he knows the man means well and would be deeply hurt if he found his praises did more harm than good yet he should at leest Harbour some sense as to their limits. Duncan seems to forget they are human, he seems to forget they need rest.

Which is why his head whipped to face macbeth when he accepted the king inviting himself to his castle. HIS castle. Banquo would never invite himself over on a whim without someone's permission. "Allow me to excuse myself, and inform my wife of your arrival" He looked towards banquo with a nod before leaving upon the Kings permission.

"And this came true?" He nodded at his wife's question "why of course yet there is an obstical that stands in the way, Duncans son is Prince of Cumberland next to be king." Macbeth saw how she stiffened at the words before taking a glance around and saying. "That won't be a problem" Make no mistake macbeth was a smart man yet at that statement he stalled.

"No, that Is a issue if-" She cut him off with a snap. "It will not be an issue if you do as I say, make sure the arrangements are ready and I will explain the rest later. You will be what you are promised." He was silent for a moment before nodding, knowing it was best to agree for now and find out later. "Of course." With that he departed again ready to fetch the servants.

The first thing banquo noticed when he arrived was the lack of Macbeth. Where was he? Lady macbeth greeted guests and the servents rushed about perfecting any details however the air still seemed thick. Banquo was not one to wander around people's homes without permission yet he found himself pacing halls and ducking into every room or knocking on each closed door for macbeth. "Arthur? Macbeth? Ah, your here." The man stopped his mumbling to turn and face him "My lancelot, what brings you here at this hour? Is there something you need?"

He simply shook his head and walked closer towards him resting his hand upon macbeths arm. "I was wondering where you were, why not join the feast?" Macbeth started to speak when footsteps sounded on the landing outside, hurriedly he ushered banquo towards the balcony where he slipped out the door into the cold nights air.

"Why are you stil in your chamber, he hath supe'd?" Her voice was cold, demanding almost, and nothing compared to how she greeted others downstairs. "He hath asked for me?" There was a scoff before the woman, Lady macbeth, stated "know him not, hath he?" Banquo thought that seemed quite rude after all he may not have asked for him at all just yet, mutch like how he seems to forget who's in the room with him and who had already left. He thought about how he could easily get assassinated for he was too nieve and forgetful, it would be his downfall. "Tonight when he rests you shall strike." There was a beat of silence. "Whatever do you mean?" Macbeth questioned, he sounded almost as perplexed and banquo felt.

"Tonight you shall kill the king, if you really love me and want your rightful title of king if course." At that banquo had to try his hardest to with-hold the gasp he almost let slip. She couldn't possibly be serious? And there was no way he would follow through. "I cannot do sutch a thing, it would be treason at the highest command. He hath given me titles, names and drapes plated in gold and I do not wish to throw sutch honors away so soon!" He sounded almost breathless, clearly he hadn't expected sutch convosation or else he would of banished banquo at the sight of him, right?

"Art thou a man? You will shred someone who lies awake who shalt cry at their fall yet you cannot bring justice to a silent man? Preposterous."There was the sound of footsteps pacing with each step that the tiles echoed a moment of silence drew longer. "The- His son! It wouldn’t work not with his son-" There was a smash and all came to a halt. This time the silence was sharper, more drawn out and ever so heavy. "I shalt ask thee once more; Art thou a man? Or does thy quiver in thine boots when greatness is within your grasp? You will not fail me nor make me do the deef myself understood?" This silence seemed shorter, more shallow for it was ended by Macbeth this time. "You be mad woman, this was meerly for convenience for I do not love you let alone enough to kill the king."

"I would never go back on my word, if i had told you id kill our child i would have bashed its skull in then, do you even love me eough to kill that, that banquo or what's it you call him? Your lancelot?" Banquo pressed his hand to his mouth trying to suppress his muffled cry when she spoke of their child, he knew it was not macbeths yet he loved it all the same. She had not cared near as mutch as he did when the situation had struck; as far as banquo was aware they hadn't spoken of having another child since.

"If I will not kill a king I will not harm the one I hold higher than thee for what is thine suggesting? I call one by the name he hath been given and nothing more now leave me woman and regain your sense. Inform the king I shall be with them soon." Footsteps clipped the dark tiles shortly followed by the clicking of the door as she exited.

"By jove she's mad" banquo gasped the words as he stepped in from the balcony eyes scanning macbeth for any sign of joke, for someone to jump out and tell him he's been had. But there was nothing but a pale rigid fuiger of the man he loved held before him. "If a battel does not kill me then this shall, my lord.." He sank into the chair beside him head braced upon his hand. "You cannot talk her down" He said
"No." Macbeth agreed
"Then what hath be done?" He was silent for a moment at banquos question before saying "I do not know my banquo, I do not know."

Chapter Text

He had followed the servents to the chamber he'd been assigned thinking back to their convosations earlier and wondering what would be done. Macbeth wouldn't kill the king, right? He would most likely refuse or she would try find some other way, she had always been a stubborn woman. Banquo thought back to the convosation he'd heard previously, had she really wanted banquo dead too? Maybe she was trying to make him angry, give him a one or the other because (apparently) he would rather kill the king.

What had he ment by 'I will not harm the one i hold higher than thee'? He holds him higher than who?. [Banquo is dumb] Just in case she goes mad and tries to kill him with a hacksaw or something he rests his sword under the sheets and drew the bedcurtain. He would not sleep tonight that was for sure.

Each sound had him on edge, turns out the adrenaline rush from their battel had only increased when macbeth had fallen from his horse, and then again when he found out his wife apparently wants them dead. So all in all he now sat wide awake and trembling ever so slightly as he waited someone's fate. That's when he heard it, the door creak. Him, she had come.

He gripped his sword awaiting for the curtain to pull however nothing happened. "Banquo? Art thou awake, I seek your um I seek your aid." There was a slight edge to his voice, a bite that wasn't there before. But it wasn't malice.
Macbeth would never hurt him.
The door clicked shut.

"Are you quite alright?" He pulled back the curtain and was met with a shadowy fuiger of macbeth leaning on the draws. "No one hath died, she know not however." Banquo fumbled with the matches one finally catching alight and illuminating the room, illuminating the bloody macbeth. "No one hath died or I am not to..?" He chose his words carefully as he assessed the man infront of him in which shook like a wet dog. Bloody shirt and hands but worst of all the dagger that rest there was caked in blood. "No, no one hath died."

Banquo was confused to say the leest after all the man infront of him was bloody and shaking. "Then why are you covered in blood? Hath she know what you've done?" He shook his head leaving the dagger on the side and staggering over to the man infront him. Then it hit him, he was staggering. "Art thou injured?" He nodded
"The dagger is pigs blood yet my stitches tore upon my travels to the chamber. You were the only one I could seek assistance with, that i trust enough to assist me" Banquo listened whilst he rummaged though his satchel for his emergency supplies. He had brought some with him knowing at some point they would tare.

"Does your wife know your here?" He shook his head "She told me to clean up and made her way to her Chambers." Banquo nodded and pulled the candle closer towards them and pulled the wire through the needle. "Lift your shirt, you can take one of mine." He grimaced as he lifted the blood soaked shirt, the second one he's ruined in the span of the two days.

Despite the pain of each poke, of each pull, he made not a sound. He was a warrior things like this did little to phase him now. But there was something awkward about this one, he had sewn wounds despite how his hands quivered yet Tonight he sought the company of banquo to assist him. He didn't know why.

"Your done, tomorrow seek to leave for some urgent inquirement and come forth to mine. She knows the king will live but that we shalt deal with another time. We fought a great war yesterday and little rest hath come since." Macbeth could only nod at his words his adrenaline dropping rapidly after the turn of events.

"Of course my lancelot, how ever could I repay you?" Banquo thought his words were soft, comforting almost. There was a breif moment of comfortable silence between the two all that stirred being the light flicker of the candle beside them.

Banquo looked beautiful in its warm glow, how his smile seemed to sooth him despite eveything that had been happening. Banquo was his cause, he was why he fought for he would be unable to continue in his position if it were banquo who died. "You have no reason to repay me as I would do this for thou at any time, day or night you could stagger to thine door and I would fold instantly to your assistance."

He felt his face heat up at the statement, their relationship was special something he could not put a name to. Freindship was to tame, too little for what banquo offered him yet lover was something that.. that wasn't as repulsive as it should be. It was a thought he considered before however now, with banquo infont of him illuminated by the warmth of his candle he realised he could stay here forever.

"You should make your way back to your chamber, incase she decides to check. The morning does come soon." Macbeth nodded rising off the side of the bed. "Thank you my banquo, I bid thee goodnight." They shared a final soft smile as macbeth made his way too the door. He couldn't help but glance back into the room, watching as banquo blew out the candle and slid it to the center of the table a ghost of a smile still perched upon his lips.

The morning came with great chaos, at least it did to those who knew. Imagine lady macbeths surprised when she entered the dining room to see banquo to macbeths left and king accords the table, even worse than that was that the table was full. Not a single person had been killed. He had lied, and posed the blood of an animal instead. How had she missed this? How dare he fool her. She saw how him and banquo shared a glance when he entered, she was not stupid. They had conspired, he knew.

"Your here today my love." She said it as a statement yet he knew why she wanted him there. They knew she was angry. "I have an important meeting, to discuss the battels that took place with the east I'm afraid I won't be here for a while." She looked towards Duncan expecting him for confirm or deny yet he did none if the sort instead he took a sip of his drink and restarted convosation with the man beside him.

"Verry well, when will you be home" He sat in silence for a moment "I'm not sure for I'm filing in for banquo." This time she directed her question towards the man on macbeths left "If you were at sutch a battel why not attend?" He simply smiled and placed down his goblet. "I'm hunting with my son on the outskirts of town I'm afraid I am unable to make it." Whilst the story wasn't true it wasn't necessarily an entire lie either.

Macbeth did not have a meeting nor was banquo going hunting with his son however they planned to, instead, go together to the outskirts of Cawdore and simply rest the day. The night before they had agreed to reside at banquos Castle however upon further thought decided that someone would most likely overhear their convosations which simply wouldn't do.

Whist Duncan was dumb he wasn't entirely stupid. He had noticed the slight limp in the step of macbeth yet he also knew of someone decided to send reinforcements he would be safest with this strongest fighters nearby. Yet that night he had overheard lady macbeth asking him if he 'hath done it' and macbeths confirmation. He hadn't thought mutch of it at first after all most wives ask their husbands to do things, he hath many servants and hey his wife still asks him for stuff. He dosnt hate Rebecca but we moove. It wasn't until he heard the knocking and creaking of another door that his curiosity peaked and, noticing his guards were (stupidly) all asleep he lent up to his own door and listened 'Banquo? Art thou awake, I seek your um I seek your aid.'

It made no sense for macbeth to be where the guest Chambers were, he knew their chamber wasn't near those yet here macbeth was seeking banquo for aid about something. The worst part was his soldier- no, a loyal freind, someone known for his bravery sounded almost scared. He waited for any extra insight yet no one came, nothing about a threat nor death. Duncan almost considered awaking his gard to see what the disturbance had been about when he remembered that it simply was not his business. Duncan may be smart but he was (somehow) also idiotic at the same time. So he went to bed. It was that morning that he noticed the spec of blood on macbeths shirt and the faint lines that had cresed into banquos cuticles when he shook his hand in the morn.

He had planned to check in on them at breakfast, to ask about the disturbance in private. Until macbeth said he had a meeting about the battel. It had made the king pause for macbeth had never lied to him before, and neither had banquo, yet here they both were with the same lie almost planned. He suspected it was. Banquo hadn't seen his son in months, him and his past wife weren't even in town, the split had been something the king had helped them keep underhand therefor many didn't know they weren't even living together let alone divorced.

But if there's one thing the king does belive in is freedom of choice. They had both agreed they did not love one another and that was enough for him to allow sutch a thing but now it simply didn't make sense. Why take a son you havnt seen in months hunting on someone else's land? So when lady macbeth seemed to look his way for confirmation of this lie he turned a blind eye, if both do lie their must be a reason. A reason he would seek at a later day.

Macbeth left the servants to clean up whilst he saw the guests out banquo being one of the first to leave. "I hope your wound heals well" Duncan had bid him with a tight embrace when he had whispered the words to him. He knew macbeth sought highly of his reputation however he also knew he was not indestructible. That was really something he would have to mention. Duncan felt how tense he became when he said those words yet when they pulled apart he still greeted him with a smile and thanks. Duncan seems dumb, but on the rare occasion he isn't he tends to pick up on the smallest of details.

The guests were gone, the servants cleared and the castle quiet. "You lie." She began; "Why." He took a breath as he continued to climb towards his Chambers her footsteps following behind. "I cannot kill the king because you want to be queen. As mutch as I would like to be king I am first a soldier. I want to appreciate what I have instead of wishing it away upon material gain." She scoffed at his words and came to a halt outside his door. "So I will have to take matters into my own hands for you are not a man?" She snapped

"Your right, I am not a man I am a human with my own feelings and opinions and most of all choices, I will not kill for greed" She let out a laugh, a harsh cackle in which he swears must of cracked at leest some stone. "Who fed you that sap? Made you go soft? It's pathetic."
"I understand why you want the king gone, but why banquo?" It was something that didn't make mutch sense to him, he assumed it had been a whim, she had been angry and said whoever came to mind. But then she had pressed on.

"His children shall be king, that crown will be stolen from you if you do not kill him." She spat the words at him but macbeth was tired, he would rather die than kill banquo. "I would pass the crown to his child, he would never kill me for it" Yet again she scoffed "Why not our own?" His hand faltered for a moment, she knew at that point she had him exactly where she wanted. "I apologise, I forgot to take that into consideration." His hand remained rested upon the handle yet his head was bowed remorse laced in his voice
"you are soft, don't become an obstical I have to deal with." Her footsteps receded leaving him in an empty silence. He was cooked.

It was one of those rare days that Duncan decided to go to the market himself after all he didn't mind going for walks around the castle grounds however he was in need of a change of scenery. Then he saw him, banquo. "Good morrow my Thane of Lochamber" Banquo lifted his head to see the cloacked man and bowed his head. "If I may ask, what brings you out today?" Banquo picked up two mangoes and inspected a few other fruits whilst he listened to the king speak.

"A change of scenery mostly, what about you; arnt you hunting with your son." Banquos hand faltered for a moment before he lent to grab a woven basket. "Well, I happen to have a son named macbeth who could use some peace and quiet" Duncan chuckled at his words and nodded. "Yes I do hope that injury you helped him with wasn't all to bad?" Banquo shook his head at his question not quite yet realising what he had said. "It could have been worse, only some light stitching" It was then he paused; "I didn't expect him to say." Duncan, yet again, let out a light laugh and shook his head.

"He did not, but I was awoken by him knocking on your door last night but do not fear I didn't eavesdrop, infact I went back to sleep when you must have answered otherwise I would have checked in myself." Banquo seemed to.. tense? At his words despite them being said with a friendly intent Duncan couldn't help but wonder if there was something deeper going on.

"He may of just come for my assistance about a sword or inquiry" Banquo was not one to challenge the king but he needed to know how he knew. And what. "There was a spec of blood on his shirt and your calluses when you shook my hand his morning. He knows I know, so you don't feel as if you've betrayed him of course." Banquo couldn't help but smile at that, as mutch as he hated this king for his nieveness and how he expects them to be seemingly indestructible yet there are somethings which he understands. "You know me too well."

"So what brings you to mangoes, didn't take either of you as someone who enjoys sweet things." Banquo continued on to browse at the stall beside whilst they spoke. "I made a drink with it once, on accident actually, and on our journey back from battel he said he quite enjoyed it so I planned to make more." This time Duncan said nothing only acknowledging his words with a faint hum before turning to banquo with a devilish grin and saying. "When you get married invite me" in which caused banquo to let out an verry audible cry of confusion and drop his shopping causing many head to turn in their direction.

The king simply laughed. "That confirms enough for me, have fun boys and tell him to remember he's not immortal. He is more than just a soldier." Banquo looked at the man who was helping him retrieve all he had dropped with a faint smile. "Thank you, I shall let him know"
"Oh and one last thing" He paused where he stood "if you would ever like to do this undisturbed you are always welcome in my grounds" Banquo nodded once more finally understanding why macbeth held this man to sutch a high standard. "Thank you, again." The king smiled and with that they went their seperate ways.

Chapter Text

"Beth?" He wandered into the clearing, they had found it after one if their battels and fallen asleep, he remembered how Duncan had yelled when they hadn't returned. It took him ages to realise he had just been worried. "Thou art here. I thought you hath forgotten." Banquo shook his head and sat down resting the basket upon their jackets. "The trip took longer than expected and i had to make some bits I apologise for keeping you waiting." Macbeth just smiled and slid some of the things he had brought forward. "Don't worry my banquo, I could never be angry with you"

He paused before adding "but you know who can? My wife. She's not fairing well to say the least." Banquo grimaced at the thought, he had not wanted to leave him alone with the woman yet ot had to happen. And so he did. But he didn't go far, he couldn't even bring himself to leave the grounds for a solid hour. "What did she say"
"That she would take things into her own hands, and not to be an obstical she will have to deal with." Banquos jaw dropped. Did she threaten to kill his man? Like, he knows it's her man right now but he's still technically his man.

"Macbeth, my Arthur, you know that's a death threat." He nodded almost as if this happened daily. "I know" Banquo was more than shook, he was appalled."She could kill you in your sleep" He nodded again and layed on the grass eyes cast up to the tree tops."I know" Banquo layed beside him macbeths head against his arm. "Do you think she'll do it?" There was a moment of silence before he let out a long sigh whilst saying "I don't know" He started "I really don't know" He sounded so tired and god did it make his heart ache.

His love? Was dealing with this because of him, where he chose to take him, the fact he didn't press more at the field, it feels like it'd his fault. He dosnt think he could take it if he gets hurt because of this. "I'm sorry" macbeths head turned to face him his concern evident and only growing as banquoes eyes glossed over. "Whatever do you mean?" He propped himself up slightly looking down upon the man nexto him. "It's my fault, I didn't press to make sure you were alright, I took you to rest there with fucking witches, your wife god this woukdnt of happened it shouldn't have, if I could fight better Maybe you wouldn't have been hurt and none of this would of happened"

"Oh" He murmured "my dearest its not your fault it never could be, I'm sorry I ever aloud you to feel this way" A quiet sob escaped his lips as the other man pulled him up into a tight embrace. "You are perfect, it was never your fault. The witches would find us if they wanted to, my wife, it was bound to happen I promise thee you are not to blame." And so they sat there, banquos convosation with Duncan long forgotten whilst he sobbed into the shoulder of the one he held most dearest whilst he muttered soothing reassurances and soft praises. "It's okay to let go some times its been hard I do not blame you, not at all." The other man wiped his face with his handkerchief before nodding slightly. "You know that too right" Macbeth hummed in agreement "I know, it's why I came to you that night" And so they lay in silence for a while soaking in the others company.

It had almost been an hour when Macbeth broke their comfotable silence with what was suposed to be his confession "Banquo, my lancelot, I would do whatever it takes to keep you safe I would venture to the ends of the earth to find you, battel thousands of men to retrieve you all to keep you safe you mean the world to me, I lo-" He had not a chance to finish sutch a confession got there was a rustle amongst the trees.

Macbeth stood, grabbing his sheif from the ground beside then he drew his sword pointing it infont of him bidding off any foe that dare approach. "Who goes there, show thyne self" He turned as the grounds rustled behind them. He lowered his voice, there was a select few reasons why someone would be within the woods waiting on them and given the past few days it would not be good. "Banquo, stay low" That was when the first man came.

He ran from behind a thick trunk sword perched high as their blades collided. The unarmoured macbeth against an armoured and unmarked swordsman. Banquo lent for his sword drawing it incase more attacked, as mutch as he wanted to assist he knew how mutch macbeth hated interruptions. He was a precise man whom knew what he was doing, verry rarely did he falter but now if he did it would be fatal. His stitches, banquo thought, oh god his stitches. Sharp metallic clangs cut through the silence followed by a pained cry in which he could only hope came from the anonymous man.

However, as soon as one cried out the next came hurtling from the other direction, this time it was banquo thay caught his sword pushing him back to the edges if the small clearing, towards a tree. He kicked the man in the chest, the rattle of his armour almost as thunderous ay his crash to the floor whilst he disarmed him. For good measure he yanked of his helmet and stamped his head down, once, Twice, a third. The man was unmoving. Yet it didn't nearly feel deserving enough.

He heard the clash from behind him and the thud, and then a second mutch louder one. Whipping around he found three things; the first was the man currently skewered on macbeths sword, the second was the body of another and the third being the decapitated head of that body. "I could kill that guy?" Banquo breathed "I just knocked him out!" Macbeth stood, bloody and panting and banquo thought, he never seemed this worn out in battel. "I had no choice, it was him or me I only had one thought before his slaughter." He pulled his sword from the man's chest. "Which was?" Banquo questioned, there were many things he could have done yet he somehow found himself forgiving his partner; it had taken them by suprise and after all what had to be done is done.

"If I die he'll come and kill you too. I couldnt let that happen" Macbeth sat on the floor beside where banquo stood. "Come sit for a moment we must discuss what to do-" Banquo cut him off as a sudden thought came to mind. "Duncan."
"What? No he wouldnt have-"
"No, no as in we go to Duncan he spoke to me in the market he uh said some things about, about um us" Macbeth noted how banquo seemed to almost glow red at that statement which only piqued his curiosity more. "Yes?" He couldn't help but edge him on, despite the situation they were in he was rather eager to hear what the said about them, alas that was not a convosation for now. "He said if we ever needed anything or wanted to spend some time undisturbed like we'll what this was suosed to be, we can go to his castle. I could, I could seek his assistance." Macbeth blinked, jaw slightly ajar in a flurry of confusion and sheer shock.

"What do we tell him my wife's bonkers wants to kill you him and apparently me?"
"Probably, or at leest someone tried to kill us so they can deal with well, this" He jestured to the bloody mess across the floor.
"I supoes your right, serch their bags for any information as to who could have sent them and then we can go forth with your second option." Both men nodded and set to work rummaging through their statuals.

"I don't understand" Banquo began,"its all empty" Macbeth finished routing through another sautak before turning to the man beside him "this one too" He sighed tossing it down and looking back at the bloody sight. "Whoever sent them must have known they might die." Macbeth paused at banwuos statement a sudden realisation coming to mind. "Tiffany, she burns all her letters after she reads them and look;" He lifted some ashes out a small pocket.

"It's burnt. It wouldn't suprise me; and she seems to see you as a threat to the throne, she may have burnt it expecting me to be here" He took a breath "She may have suspected we would be together and knew if we were they would die, we walked straight into it." At that moment they stood, shoulder to shoulder, hoping for something that would quell this hassle. "I return your feeling" Banquo stated suddenly yet macbeth barky glanced up.

"That's good, though I wasn't necessarily concerned you didnt considering it just tried to kill you" Banquo frowned, macbeth seemed to think his feelings were the reason for sutch atrocitys. "Nonsence, they cannot do harm ti me if you are by my side" With that banquo assessed their situation, pleased with his new found relationship

"I only knocked that one out, we can wait for him to stir and then force him to tell the lady that I am dead." Macbeth glanced towards the man slumped by the tree before ridding him of his weapons. "I supose, if I am beside her when he comes he may not tell. But where will you go?" Banquo glanced up at the man before taking another roll from the basket. "Duncan, he came to me at the market and told me to let you know he appreciates both our work, and wants me to remind you that your not immortal." Macbeth took his seat beside him reaching for one of banquo's mango blends.

"I don't understand how it correlates?"
"He said if we ever needed anything we could come to him, and that we are always welcome in his grounds." He nodded slightly, still considering his words. "We tell him someone tried to kill you and, in the process, was killed. Once that man delivered the statement of your demise to my wife I will track him down and kill him to ensure he does not retreat on his word."

"Why dirty your hands with the blood of another that we can't guarantee will endanger us further." Macbeth grimaced, his lips pressed in a thin line. "I am unwilling to take that risk" Banquo thought back to how lady Macbeth had asked him if he would ever kill for her and his quick and sharp denial. "You would be willing to harm another for me?" Macbeth knew the difference, his lady wanted malice Banquo was safety and he would do whatever it takes to keep him safe. "Yes, well, of course I would my darling." Banquo flushed at his words, it felt almost like a confession. Had he confessed? That's what it kinda was before hand right? Were they together? Wait. Was HE the other man? Banquo shook the the thought out his head because their wasn't another man and he had said it was suposed to be a lavender marriage so it was fine right?

There was a metallic clang as Macbeth lifted his sword from beside banquo's and pointed it at the man which now sat wide eyed and visibly confused. "Who sent you" the man spluttered and let out a series of pleas as macbeths sword drew closer to his throat. "Who sent you, do not make me ask again" Banquo thought this was kinda hot actually, watching his future husband? threaten a man who had attempted to hurt him. "Your- Your wife" By now the man was a blubbering mess hands raised in surrender. "For which one of us?" The man lowered a trembling arm to point towards banquo who looked rather offended by the statement however decided it was best to grab a snack instead. Macbeth sighed and took a seat beside banquo. "What am I going to do with you?"

Both men turned their gazes towards the now sitting man. "Which one?" Banquo questioned and macbeth couldn't help but chuckle at his words. "Well, you will need to seek safty as for him" he jabbed his sword closer to the still slumped and seemingly frozen man "He can die" At that the man shot upwards many pleas escaping his lips "please, I'll do anything!" He threw himself at macbeths feet and honestly, macbeth was disgusted.

"I will spare you for now, not out if my own kindness but his. Now, you will tell my wife you killed him and then you will leave. If you do or try anything else I will see to it that you are made a statement of do you understand?" The man nodded so hard banquo swears he could hear his brain rattling with each swing. "Banquo infrom the king, I will ride to my wife and you" He waved his sword at the man" will come with me. Macbeth pulled his jacket on enfolding any loose items into the basket banquo had brought. "I trust you will journey safe?" Banquo nodded and lifted the basket, coat folded over his arm. "Once I inform Duncan I will send a messenger your way"
"Verry well" once more they departed, once more their was an issue to solve. Once more their love grew.

Chapter Text

Banquo dosnt think he's rode anywhere faselter in his life, sword clipped by his waist clanking with each galop. "I need to speak to Duncan." He had barley dismounted his horse when he'd demanded to see the king. "He's rather bussy at the momemt- are you alright?" A servent rushed forth yet haltered as banquo dismissed him. "It's an personal emergency which macbeth is currently attempting to controll, this blood is not mine." The servent nodded and with a stern "follow me" guided him into the castle to Duncan.

"My king, I wish to speak to you in private. There was a situation involving macbeth." Duncan took one look at the blood on banquos shirt before demanding eveyone to take their leave. All but banquo of course. "What hath happened? A battel between the two of you, an untimely demise? Are you both well?" Banquo shook his head attempting to explain this in a way that didn't reveal eveything.

"As you know macbeth and I met in the forest, we were ambushed by three men all armed with swords. They were unmarked with no information of whom sent us in their bags. Two of them are dead, the third escaped. One revealed they were sent by someone of this town to assassinated me having not expected macbeth to be there." Duncan grimaced at their misfortune but knew what had to be done.

"I will send some of my gards to clean up as for now I wish for you to take refuge within these walls. Where is macbeth I notice you have traveled alone." Banquo knew dunacn would question this the most, especially with their complicated relationship. "He sent me to you whilst he attempts to track down the man, he did not wish for him to get far." Duncan nodded and took his stand making his way towards the double doors. "Come, I will show you to your quarters."

Macbeth waited behind the wall tucked away from his wife's veiw and as listened to their convosation. "Hath it been done?" He hated how her voice seemed full of hope at the question; how could she seek sutch joy in killing for her own gain? "Yes the job has been done, the other two was slaughted by banquo in the process however he is dead." Macbeth heard how she hummed in satisfaction, followed by a faint rattling which he assumed was his payment. "And my husband?" He startled at this question having not been something expected her to actually ask him given the details he just provided.

"Entered the Kings castle this morning, I have seen not of him since and he was no where to be found by banquo." Macbeth lowered his sword slightly, having expected to kill the man incase he attempted to reveal anything and create some fob story. "Verry well then, you may leave. He awaited the other man's arrival knowing what had to be done now. Once the door clicked shut he emerged from hiding towards the man. "Return to the forest I wish for you to identify those men."

But macbeth didn't lead him to the clearing, instead he lead him deep into the shrubs before drawing his sword. "I cannot have you compromising our deal, my freind wishes mercy upon your soul." With that he swing his blade through his throat, watching as he dropped to the floor.
Pathetic, he thought. It angered him they had interrupted their moment but most of all THAT moment; he had been grasping at the ends of finally confessing to banquo when they ruined it and the worst part was Banquo seemed to have no idea. He would have to try again at a better time.

He turned upon the sound of voices in the distance so lifting the bag of cound and dumping it in his own statual he made his way towards them. They sounded formal and with each step they took a metallic clink followed so in short conclusion they were armoured and most likely had swords. They were either gards or more assasins judging by the fact they were in the direction of their clearing banquo must of reached Duncan.

"Who goes there?" One of the men- gards macbeth concluded, shouted out towards him. "It is I, Macbeth." He trudged through the grounds towards the gards; some of Duncans personal gard by the look of it. "There's another back there." One of them nodded and made their way towards where he jestured. "I shall take my leave, I trust this is in safe hands?"
"Of course, I shall let your majesty know they hath been seen too" with that macbeth docked his sword and made his way back to his mare.

"Your home" his wife greeted him, pulling him into an embrace. "You are bloody, why?" She eyed his shirt obviously weary of her previous actions. "A woman found two dead assasisns and.." He swallowed, god it made him sick to the stomach just to imagine it. "And Banquo. We were sent out with the Kings gard to investigate, I found the one who killed him a while later with a small sack of gold on him. Someone wanted him to die and he did." He took a seat by the dining table and rested his head in his hands. "Days previously he offered to take me with him, I can't help but wonder if this would have happened if I had gone"

His wife snaked her arms around his neck leaning into him in a hath hearted embrace. He wanted to throw up, the thought he could have died, her cold and empty words whispered in his ear, it all made his stomach churn and his throat burn and clog. "I wish not to sup, I will retreat to my Chambers tonight." He couldn't do this, he was unable to live like this. "I too would like an annulment you would do anything for that power tis would not suprise me if you hath sent for his demise yourself. Maybe if I do this you shall stop in understanding you will never be a queen." Lady macbeth however, was not fooled by the link in subject. There were only two reasons for this, macbeth was there and knew she had sent them or killing banquo had resorted him coming to terms with the one thing she had wanted to avoid yet either way prooved badly for her.

Her arms unlaced themselves from around his neck as she took a step back. "I can assure you I would never send for sutch a thing, I have been thinking the words I spat at you were cruel and injust and I'm terribly sorry" There was a wavour in her voice as she spoke, followed by a hiccup which signified the start of her tears. Macbeth was tired, tired of this all. Yet he nearly reached to pull her closer, that was until he remembered if he were to pull a snake close it will only bite its poison into your throat

"Maybe you'll think more clearly in the morning." He just shook his head and placed down his ring. Since the first day him and banquo shook hands it was bound to happen, he was bound to fall in love with someone eventually. Yet it just had to be like this; and he couldnt help but wonder if he was cursed.

It didn't take long before it happened. Macbeth awoke to the sound of his bedcurtain being dragged back across the rail, to the matrice weighting down at a side and something wasn't right. "Ti's not be morning" He murmured helpless to how he desperately wished to succumb to sleep. He felt a hand on his chest, forcing him down as its grip tightened and someone, a woman, straddled across him. He felt groggy, his movements sloppier than they should be thoughts dragging slower than they had before. It scared him, how he struggled to react, how he couldn't think. Maybe that's what he needed, maybe the fear is what caused the adrenaline to fire up in time; or maybe it was the person who's weight tried to force him to his matrice. But it was most likely the sight of the dagger glinting in the moonlight as she lifted it.

TW: major charictor death, murder ----------

Macbeth was going to die, he had come to terms with it once before when he had been struck in the chest just like this in one of his first battels. He had dropped to the floor as blood gushed from the wound, he recalled banquo screaming his name; recklessly barrelling towards him and pulling him off the ground, dragging him backwards. Away from the front line. It was then when he realised he was more scared of leaving banquo behind than death itself that he realised he had loved him.

It had been his cause to keep going, so now as the dagger collided with his shoulder in a messy and un-co ordernated attempt on his life he too remembered his cause, his why. And so as the dagger reared upwards in a desperate attempt to strike again he pushed and he swung causing the woman, in which he now recognised as his wife, to fall and entangle in the bedcurtain with a loud crash. "Why won't you just die already" She screamed.

Dragging himself off the other side of the bed, chest and shoulder bleeding he fumbled for the draws, for his dagger. He had never wanted it to come down to this yet it was always a possibility. He tried to make his way around the bedframe, towards the door, yet she was already atop of him. His hand gripped her wrist as he attempted to fend of the blade whilst she screamed incessant words. It hurt, his own blood fought against him gushing down his chest and making his grip weak. He was brave, vallient macbeth he who cannot be weak. Yet here he was about to be murdered by his wife.

She kicked at his leg forcing his knee to bucle dropping him the floor by the balcony with a loud thud, he scrambled to maintain his footing dagger now long dropped. Neither noticed the door open, nor did they see one if the servants flee upon the sight of the tragedy unfolding before them, no, Lady macbeth was to focused in dragging her ex? Husband up by his bloody shirtand slamming him into the outside wall dagger posed at his chest. "Your purpose is void, you have nothing to be here for, no ruling, no petty banquo, you don't seem to care about yout riches"

She screamed her words at him blood coating her hands the harder the pressed against him the more leaked between her fingers, yet the dagger only hovered. It gave Macbeth time, time no one else would have given him, it gave him the time to kick her in the chest forcing her to stumble backwards. Backwards over the railing, in which she fell. Macbeth knew she was dead before she even hit the ground. He slumped down the wall the metallic taste in his mouth becoming one of his only remaining senses. His vision seemed disorientated, his hearing as If he was underwater. Macbeth raised a trembling hand to his numb face and wiped the blood from his nose.
Unaware of the hands upon him he felt peace for once, a cold and inviting rest in which he couldn't help but sink into.
Banquo, he thought, he would like to see banquo.

Chapter Text

It was none of their business as servants if their employers had arguments as mutch as it was their convosations, yet when the lady had come down asking for his dagger with the excuse that he "hath asked for he needs it in the morn" it hadn't sat right with many of them. One of the reasons was that macbeth personally retrieved any of his weapons as it was known he disliked having them passed through hands and well, the second was that she took his hunting knife. That evening most of them had been told to leave early or return to their quarters but any that were still awake by midnight desperately trying to clean up before they awoke in the morning would of seen her climb the stairs knife in hand.

She had heard the commotion a few moments later, the yelling, the thuds and hath screams. She had seen the brave and vallient soldier many dreamed about slumped against the wall in a bloody defeat. At that she had run down the stairs yelling for anyone who could hear to wake up. The castle was in chaos after all what do you do when two people try to kill each other? There was no sutch thing as police in 1032 nor a way to call anyone to your assistance. She was screaming at him and her words nothing more than mocking bragging about the perfect execution of his freind how his purpose was void. It was appalling to say the least. Then there was silence; the kind that made her sick to her stomach.

"She hath slain him for sure" she turned her eyes towards one if the other servants beside her whilst he opened the door. The room was a mess to say the least, the bed was caped in blood, its rail torn of the frame and curtain strewn across the floor. Draws were open and raided, bloody handprints scattered across the handles and walls, more blood littered the floor and smeared across the wall towards where the balcony door was wide open. There sat macbeth, slumped against the cold stone wall, trail of blood signifying where he was once held against. "Beth? Son can you hear me?"

She tried to wave her hand infront of him yet he registered no response. "What's wrong with him?" She glared at the guy stood beside her. "I don't know! If I tried to kill you in your sleep would you be coherent!" The guy shook his head whilst the older woman continued to attempt to gain a response going as far as to slap him, causing more blood to poor from his nose. "You did not, he pays us generously you know, many barly pay there servants" Macbeth however, raised a shaking hand towards his face and wiped the blood that fell. "He's responsive okay um go find someone, banquo the other thane" Sarah ushered the boy away.
"He's dead, she said he was killed"
"Oh god" She breathed "go to the king"
"The king?" The man exclaimed
"Yes the king what else do we do? Oh and tell him sarah sent, its urgent Inverness is in dissary."

Night shift, as if the afternoon hadn't been eventful enough with thee banquo racing in demanding to speak to the king. Alas its night, its always peaceful at night. Not tonight though, apparently tonight a messanger decided to ride in and declare another emergency. "We've had alot of emergency's lately I doubt it's this important" The gard groaned stepping forward to meet the slowing fuiger. "Macbeth wounded, his wife decesed we seak aid as we have not guidance on what is to be done." The gard turnt back to face another. "Awake the king and banquo."

The king had always been an odd one, oblivious to those who will betray him until to late and unwilling to be bothered about anyone unless it was a relative. Then he recruited macbeth. He was barely 16 when he joined as a soldier and quickly flew up the ranks banquo beside him. Duncan thought they were just young and stupid, fighting recklessly just to get the job done, but after a while he started to see more potential in the two if them and dare he not say favour them.

He lent quickly that Macbeth did not favour riches and remained work driven. When he was 19 he sustained his first majour injury, despite broken armour he fought on until the near end. He was implailed by the leader of the opposing battalion and left to bleed. He knew banquo had seen it all, he had heard roumers of how the 20y old and screamed for him, barreled recklessly through the battel towards him and dragged him from the field. It was banquo that went back into battel just to kill the man who had done sutch a thing. Duncan knows macbeth did not know that, he would find out one day.

He had demanded macbeth take some time away to focus on himself and banquo the same. It had left a void in his army, something so little as their constant banter and visits to him became another thing he missed dearly especially after the messy divorce of his first wife Berlinda. In a way it had been macbeth who had made him realise what she was, power hungry constantly wanting more and more and it had gotten to the point where she made more choices then he ever did before they divorced. It had been for the better, and he left feeling mutch lighter than before.
When macbeth got married he was glad for him, the boy had found something in life other than the brutal grounds of war and fighting yet after a while her coldness became concerning and in a way it reminded him.of his ex wife but many told him he was just projecting.

As time went on he too became colder, more brutal, and it never went un noticed. Whilst macbeth grew colder and Duncan re married Banquo got divorced, he knew it was more than just growing apart. Duncan had seen how Banquo looked at Macbeth and who was he to judge? Though the ten years the pair had worked for him they had gained a place in his heart and almost eveyone seemed to know it.

Maybe it had become evident when they hadn't arrived for a day after a particularly brutal battel and he had sent his entire gard searching for them, or perhaps it was how he frequented their castles almost entirely unguarded.
Macbeth and banquo were particularly important to him, after all he had practically raised macbeth due to him frequenting the castle when his mother was a servant.

"Sir, sir I'm terribly sorry to wake you at this hour but there's an issue" Duncan groaned as he sat up beside his wife "someone better be dead" He instantly regretted his words as he saw his servants demeanor change followed by perfectly timed shout from banquo a few halls down. "Macbeth sir, he is claimed unresponsive and his lady dead" The 42 year old had never moved faster in his life.

Banquo arrived first, there in the grass bloody in her long nightgown lie lady macbeth, the hunting knife banquo had gifted macbeth a few years ago rested bloody a few feat away. He didn't have time to stop and analyse the scene ,however, as he tore after the servant in which led him towards his macbeth.
"He called for you"
"What?"

"We were trying to ask him questions anything all he said was banquo" he could only nod in vague recognition whilst he raced up the stairs. The bedroom looked worse than a battel field and if he's honest it took every fiber of his being not to throw up right there. He would have to do that later. There was blood on the bed, broken bedframe and curtains cast in a tangled heap. The draws were strung open his bloody hand prints on the walls, on the sheets and thick patches from where he'd been forced against the wall. From where he'd been hurt. For the first time he found himself unable to moove.

"God what happened?" The words were thick, hard to roll of his tongue fearing nothing but the worst as he looked at the wreckage. "She stabbed him a few times." He looked at the walls, the curtains, the sheets. "Is, is that all?" He stuttered and the servant just nodded their head. "Why?" He regretted asking as soon as the words left his throat. There was panting behind him, Duncan was probably here. "He wanted an annulment after he told her of your apparent death, he seemed really shaken up ive never seen him like this."

He forced himself to moove, to walk towards the balcony where two others sat, where macbeth was. "Macbeth?" There was little recognition to his words. He took a seat infont of him ushering the servents away. "Arthur? My beth? Can you hear me?" There was a moment of silence before macbeths hand tightened slightly around banquos. "Lancelot?" Banquo could almost cry at the sound of his voice. "Yes, I'm here do you think you can tell me a few things you can see?"

Macbeth glanced around registering his surroundings slightly, "Railing, you, floor, clouds, my trousers" banquo nodded slightly relived he was responsive. "Where did she hurt you?" He felt as if he was speaking to a small child, all he wanted was to hear his voice to know he isn't lying here dead. "My stitches tore, I'm sorry" Banquo shook his head dismissing his lives words. "Nonsense did she stab you in the chest at all?" Banquo was scared, scared she had hit something vital that was bleeding out within him.

Something that was going to cause him to die. But he shook his head. "My shoulder, she tried to get my throat." Banquo nodded and lent towards him "I'm gunna cut yout shirt there alright" He didn't want to make him think he would hurt him not did he want to find out what would happen if he randomly pulled out a knife. Macbeth nodded, Banquo placed the knife in the slit of the shirt and pulled down allowing the arm to be cut off.

Duncan watched as he wiped the gash and demanded water, cloth and bandages from the servants, he had never seen him to carful before. "He will be alright." Banquo nodded. "I fear there is more to this than I may realise." Again banquo nodded. Duncan moved to sit beside the two of them for the first time taking in the scale of his injury, the scale of what had happened. He almost died tonight by the hands of someone he should of been able to trust. "You are strong, but you are not immortal you are both people who need rest and I feel like I don't tell you this enough"

"Thank you" It wasn't banquo that said it though, it was the harsh and grating voice of macbeth. With all that had happened Duncan excused himself, walked through the bloody room and cried. He couldn't imagine what he would do if that had been his son, yet at the same time it felt as if it had. "Send note to my wife that we will have an extra visitor and that his quarters shalt be beside banquos." The servants meerly nodded and rushed off to find their messanger, all the servants but one. "Sarah, I apologise for sending you tonight. I thought some time here may do both of you well" the woman shook her head visibly shaken yet denying his fault. "Nonsense, I am happy I was there for him."

"Do you think you can stand?" Macbeth frowned at Banquos statement and attempted to pull himself upwards only to stumble into banquo, who too stumbled backwards. Both servants rushed to grab them, especially as the former lady had toppled in the same manner. "Thank you" Banquo loosened his grip on macbeth ever so slightly and guided him away from the edge and through the door. "I couldn't moove" Banquo ripped his gaze from the room towards Macbeth. "I woke up when she pulled the curtain open but eveything was so weird, it's as if the world was underwater. I remember thee um"

He paused for a moment attempting to regain his words "the matrice moving and seeing the knife and I couldn't do anything. It hit my shoulder and all I could think about was when you dragged me off the field those years ago. How I wouldnt see you again. She went to strike again and only then did I do anything." They trudged down each step Duncan on his left and Banquo on his right. "I know my love, but you did moove and you are here and that is all that matters"

Despite their heartfelt moment Duncan had to with-hold a snort at the way a servants head whipped round when banquo had said 'my love' he would tell them another time maybe. "Did you tell him about our market convosation?" Banquo yet again seemed to glow red and lowered his head. "Not, not entirely." Macbeth looked between the two of them a small sheepish smile spreading across his face at the sight of banquo. "I've been dying to know" He vaguely jestured towards his injurys in Ill humor "what's got you so red." Banquos face, although still glowing, showed nothing more than mortification which only grew as Duncan laughed at his joke.

"That's not funny you could of died!" He cried but macbeth could only nod. "What else am I to make of the nights events if not a little humour, now before I do die I want to know why he's like this." Banquo dropped his gaze to the floor in a mix of pure humiliation and horror. "I told him when you get married to invite me and he went as read as he is now cried out 'what!' all shocked and dropped all his shopping on the floor and lodes of people turned to look at him." Macbeth flushed, but only briefly before decending into hysterics at Duncan's story. In hindsight you probably shouldn't tell a bleeding out man sutch a story. The humour was short lived as he fell into a rather harsh coughing fit. "You are a funny man banquo" the words were faint whilst he still gasped for air but god that dumb smile could make banquo fold.

"How are your stitches?" Banquo asked, the last thing he wanted was for them to pull and him bleed out. "They are firm, thank you" Banquo nodded glad he was alright. Macbeth cast his focus towards Duncans incessant rambling about how they should take more time off things, at first banquo was confused after all there was nothing to bring sutch a subject about. Banquo glanced around and that's when he remembered, to his right lay lady macbeth twisted and crumbed on the ground. That's why Duncan started speaking, he wanted him to look the other way. A part of him still admires Duncan for that.

"Wait" macbeth started "Why doth thou propose marriage if we arnt together?" At that they both glanced towards him as banquo questioned "we arnt?" Both boys looked as confused as the other. "We were?" Macbeth asked. Banquo paused for a moment in silent consideration. "Since your soliloquy in the forest yeah?" Duncan was with-holding another laugh and to say the leest it was hard. "I thought you didn't realise since I did not finish?"
"I did which is why I said that I return your feeling"
"I thought you said that because I said I hated the men?" Duncan couldn't help it anymore, at banquo's confused expression and Macbeths exasperated voice he burst out laughing. For the first time this evening macbeth was thankfull he hadnt died.

Banquo couldn't moove, he was frozen in the doorway watching as she loomed over macbeth and drove the dagger into his shoulder, into his chest, into his throat. He watched as he coughed blood, how his body jerked with each hit and pull. He watched as his arm dropped limply of the bed which it's once white sheets were now crumpled and soaked with blood. Banquo could only watch, its all he ever did. She caressed the side of her husbands face now pale and shattered with blood.

"Why did you let him stop you from being something great" She stepped back blade still clutched in hand and wandered towards banquo. "Why did you stop him frim being somethinh great? Why did you let him die? Why did you kill him, why did you kill my husband?" She was screaming now, crying and begging clinging onto his blood soaked shirt. He shot up a damp and panting mess cold sweat soaked his shirt as he pulled the covers off with his clean hands. No blood.

He made his way to the room next door, pushing the door open slightly to see a sleeping Macbeth. He stood for a moment reminding himself he was indeed sleeping, not dead before stepping back out into the hall and closing the door. It was dark again, and he was alone. It became frequent, traveling to his room once or twice in the middle of the night to check he was alive. Sometimes he wondered if macbeth had the same thing. He went to macbeths Chambers when he heard the sound of movement, knowing he was awake he knocked upon the door awaiting his answer. "You may enter" It had been a few days since the incident and each morning banquo visited. Then banquo finally asked the question that had been gnawing at the corner of his mind.

Chapter Text

"Do you ever have dreams of.. the incident?" Macbeth stopped at banquoes question before nodding slightly. "Which one?" Banquo turned his gaze towards him in slight confusion. "What do you mean?" Macbeth pulled his shirt on, carful not to tare any of his stitches. "Sometimes it's her and sometimes it's the forest, that I'd been late and they had killed you. Those nights I tend to check if your ever really here." Macbeth sat beside him allowing his head to rest against the other man's shoulder waiting for banquo to speak.

"It's her, I open the door and I just freeze I just watch as she stands beside your bed and just plunge the dagger in over and over." The other man hummed in thought before muttering. "There's your difference, she was never beside me" Banquo's expression contorted into one of confusion. "I don't understand." Macbeth shook his head and did not continue.
"We should dine." He placed a subtle kiss to banquos cheek and left without another word.
Banquo, through his flustered state, decided it was best not to push. Not yet.

Rumours circled quickly around the town, that Macbeth had killed her or that she had stumbled to her death in nothing more than mere tragedy or the truth, that she had snapped and tried to kill him but plunged to her death in the process and banquo well he wasn't sure how he would tell macbeth. "I shall go to the training grounds for a while, a change of scenery would be most beneficial." Duncan nodded at his words. "Good, routine will do you well." Macbeth nodded and, odd as it seems given the situation, he would be glad to get back to fighting.

"Be carful if you go near the border, there are roumers the east are re building their army." Macbeth placed down his goblet "They have a plan of attack?" Duncan shook his head "we know not of their intention" Macbeth nodded sitting in silence for a moment for saying "I shall be in fitness to continue training the others and by the time they assemble their forces I will be well enough to fight" Duncan merely shook his head. "I will not have you on the field until I can ensure you are of fighting capability. Whilst I will alow you to pursue your training I cannot have you in an actual battel, its too risky."

"He's right," Banquo began "recover properly and you will be able to fight." He groaned, like actually let out a teenager style groan. Both men let out barking laughs at his reaction "That's the first teenage thing I've ever seen you do" The man shrugged "Well I never thought I'd see the day that you take away my fighting privileges" he paused before adding "again." Laughter echoed from the dining hall and for the first time in forever it felt like he had a true family.

By the time he arrived at the grounds he was a conflicted mess, would he even be able to fight without thinking of the way the knife came down upon his shoulder? There was no room for error, no time to freeze. Yet here he stood, sharpening his sword and practicing technique bathing himself in the familiarity of each slice, with every jab he doubled down on his strokes. He cannot miss, He cannot fail. Macbeth does not die at the hands of another. There was someone there. He swing on hilt, his sword stopping a mere few center meters from a man, a soldier he concluded.

"Commander!" He chipped the words despite the fact Macbeth could of killed him there and then. Eveyone seemed to know not to interrupt him yet here this boy was, in his way. "Yes, what about it?" The boy grinned at his recognition before starting "Well, I was hoping you could help me with my sword whenever I sharpen it it seems to well sharpen the stone and not the sword. I don't even know how that's possible!" He cried. Macbeth thought it to be quite amusing all whilst knowing he used to be the same.

"Art thou sliding froward or sideways?" The boy paused having expected him to yell at him and send him away after all the brave macbeth would not waist his time on someone who could not do a simple task. At leest that's what some others say. "Um, sideways?" Macbeth nodded and jestured for the boy to sit and lay down his sword. "It's quite alright it's a fairly common mistake which I used to make, Duncan had to teach me how, it was mutch like this." You could say the boy had stars in his eyes with how he lit up at those words. "Really! Wait, Duncan? As in the king?" Macbeth couldn't help but chuckle with how the boy was almost vibrating in his seat infact it was as if he was radiating his own light.

"Well yes, he mentored Me in alot of things; same with my fellow commander" Macbeth continued to guild the boys sword each hit sharpening the edges with smooth defined hilts."Can you teach me how to fight? You leed so many things and push through its like your immortal!" He couldn't begin to name the amount of times he'd been told this and honestly it was beginning to be a bore. "Where's your capin? Shouldn't you be training?"

The boy stilled having obviously taken his change if subject as dismissal. "no he doesn't like training me" His hand hovered above the sword having stopped midstrike. "Oh?" He turnt his focus towards the boy. "Why is that?" The boy looked towards his lap diverting his eyes from his commanders perplexed gaze. "Because I can never get my swings right and I'm too slow." They sat in silence for a moment before macbeth hummed turning his attention back to the sword. He knew all to well whay that was like after all it took him years to find someone willing to stay.
That had been banquo.

"You know when I was training at first I would repeatedly hit myself in the back of the head with my sword, I didn't have verry good spacial awareness." The boy laughed having imaged a young macbeth going to take a vital swing and instead hitting himself yet he quickly stiffled his joy in understanding that his captin would have been furious, let alone his commander of all. "You haven't got yout initials in the handle" The boy glanced over a look of sheer confusion crossing his face. "Why do I need that?"

"So if you loose your sword or die we can identify who's it is?" Macbeth stated it as if it was supposed to be common knowledge. "First I want you to stand and hold your sword like your about to run into battel see how the weight is." The man and the boy stood as he began for the first time to mentor another, like Duncan had him.
It was the most relaxed he had felt in the past week.

Meanwhile banquo:

"This is the most stressed I've been in the entire week" Duncan glanced up at banquo who was now nervously pacing by the window. "He is quite responsible I am sure he is fine young banquo." He spun on heal to face the king back to the now setting sun. "What if he's torn his stitches and is bleeding out alone! What if he's been ambushed? What if his wife's not really dead and she's killed him." Duncan chuckled at that statement knowing that banquo didn't really mean it and was more off track.

"You may go to the grounds locate him" Banquo nodded and started to make his way towards the door. "However;" Banquo stopped. "do not make him feel restricted it will be a downfall." With that banquo nodded and made his way outside to his horse. He of all people knew Macbeth had most likely lost track of time yet in the light of recent events he wouldn't want to take any chances.

Within hath an hour Banquo was tearing through the grounds serching for Macbeth and to most if the higher-ups this was a normal Tuesday. "Have you seen Macbeth?" One of the capins turned her focus from her students and towards banquo. "Ground delta, who knows he may have wacked himself in the head with his sword" Despite his frenzy banquo couldn't help but laugh at their joke, Eliza had been one of the few to train alongside them when they had first started out too and, well, she had seen it all really. "Why so panicked? Were you two supsoed to meet?"

She winked causing banquo to glow two shades brighter than the Ruby crest on his jacket. "Good luck with your students I'm going to go and not get my head chopped off" She laughed and waved him off as he now walked towards ground delta (the third and smaller training grounds of the four) ready to slaughter his going-to-be husband for causing him so mutch worry. He's going to makr him go grey before Duncan.

"Arthur!" There was a clatter, most likely a sword, as banquo swung open the door. "The night grows old where hath you been?" Banquo glazed passed the boy having not noticed his existence instead opting to place a hand upon macbeths side the other resting upon his shoulder. "I've been here, where I am stood right now. Exactly where I said I was heading to." Banquo snorted at his matter-of-fact tone before reaching for his dropped sword. "Before you ask I have not torn anything and I have eaten" Banquo studded his face for any sign of a lie before going to speak, only to be interrupted by the boy stood behind him. The one banquo in his hurried rush had glazed straight past.

"Is this why you left mum?" His tone was nothing more than confused with a slight playfulness. "Fleance?" The boy looked between both men, banquos hands still on macbeths waist before questioning; "dad?- dad's? Plural?" Macbeth burst out laughing whilst banquo could only stare, mouth agape. "Is this what eveyone thinks of us? How long have people thought this of us!" To say banquo was shocked would be an understated, the man was agast and yet macbeth? He was too bussy leaning on the man beside him wiping tears from his laughing fit. "Well then it's nice to finally meet you Fleance" Macbeth chuckled.

Chapter Text

I AM CONTINUING THIS FIC

alright so ao3 curse got me and I'm pretty sure I broke my foot td (or at leest a bad sprain) and I'm in horrible pain atm so I'm (hopefully) going to get to the hospital soon

Unfortunately that will mean there's no chapter tonight and maybe tomorrow (unless I can speedily wright that is) you may still get one tomorrow just not today as I planned

Greatest apologies for now but yet again this is being continued I promise you no curse will stop me

UPDATE: they didn't take me to the hospital and have refused since its still bruised and swollen and killing me but my freind brought crutches to me and her mum offered to take me to A&E so I now look like Dr House
No boot nothing medical just persevering

My family are going on a WALK today (ironic right) but you should hopefully get the next chapter tn if it dosnt play up
Love you guys <3

Chapter Text

"And then it turns out he's banquo's son" Duncan was smiling fondly upon the exchange watching as his wife laughed at their story, how macbeth lent his head on the table as he wheezed and of he was honest he was sad to see them go so soon. "Are you sure your alright to go back in the morn?" However this time he asked more out longingness for their company. "My servants say all is well and ready" Duncan nodded and glanced towards banquo. He knew he would visit often after all it was a situation they had struggled to shake. "Verry well, you are always welcome here my son" Macbeth nodded
"I am forever greatful"

With recent events the castle felt empty, a shell of what it used to be. He climbed the stairs the same ones she would of climbed dagger in hand towards him. He clenched his fist. There was a scuff on the corner of the door from when banquo had shoved it open. His hand traced the handle, the knob he once turned for refuge now a cold reminder of his newly found solitude.

The door glided open a pale light slinking round the cracks as he stepped into the room. Deep blue curtains hung around the bed which held no visible reminder of the tradgic event that had unfolded, the only thing that remained being the faint handprints and smeres which had been eradicated in its entirety and painted over. But in his mind they were still there.
In his mind she was still there.

He lent on the balconies rail, taking in the sheer hight and wondering if he too fell would he die? Or would he find the unfortunatism of surviving somehow. He shook the thought out his mind. Dying wasn't fortunate, it was a cowardly way out. He walked away for the first time yet a part of him knew it wouldnt be the last. Pulling back the drapes he lied upon the matrice eyes fixated upon the ceiling.
His final sight, what should have been his final sight. Why did he moove? It was a selfish thought really considering how the taking of his life wouldnt have been beneficial for many, especially banquo.

Macbeth had fought hard to stay alive, so why did it feel as his efforts had gone to waist? He breathed in the slickly air allowing its icy crystals to shread his lungs before slinking to the floor head rested on his knees. He rolled his aching shoulder each click a subtle stab at his misfortune, a stab at his unworthiness. "Sir?" There was a knocking on the door each hit feeling as if it was upon his skull, every strike felt as if his bones shook.

Macbeth stood and made his way inside. "Yes?" The opened the door to be met with the young servant girl, one who was there that night. He tensed as each memory flashed back, the weight, the dagger, the witches, the fall, the battel, banquo being implaied, him being cornered each battel rushed to mind evey slice and stab evey poke and prod worming their way to the front of his mind at that verry moment.

"-is outside" He nodded having barly registered he words. "I shall be downstairs to meet them in just a moment Anne thank you for informing me" If macbeth wasn't so tired he might have noticed how her face lit up at the use of her name or remembered the formalities he usually cared so mutch about. But macbeth was tired, so these things went un-noticed. By the time he'd made his way down the stairs he considered flocking down and sleeping on the sofa, far to many steps, however against his better judgement he followed a servant through to where whoever the girl had said awaited. "Fleance" the boy smiled sheepishly

"I'd this a bad time?" He murmured the words having taken in the state of his commander, messy hair and loose jacket; a state of terror and panic a meere ghost in his eyes. The man may not have noticed, but the boy did. "Of course not, what do you need?" He glanced out the window behind the boy freshly registering the fact it was still day, he just wanted to sleep.

"Um well there's a problem with my sword" Macbeth nodded remembering the hours he spent training him. "It can't be that bad." Thoes were the famous last words he spoke an awful lot lately their irony further emphasised by the sword, or lack of, that was pulled out the boys sheif. All he could do was stare.

"If I may ask..." He began slowly trying to choose his words carefully. "How did you, uh, how did this come about?" Macbeth had done many things with his sword, lent on it embedded it in trees and killed most likely hundreds of men yet he had never snapped the thing clean in hath. "I stabbed the target and it snapped" He simply stared at the boy mouth slightly agape whilst he attempted to work out quite simply how sutch a thing was possible. He nodded. "Right, and you want me to..." No offense to the boy but not even the three witches would be able to fix this sword let alone allow it to be useable afterwards. "I was wondering if you would be able to mend it? I uh I have the other hath" At that the boy held up the rest of the blade.

What Fleance expected him to do was beyond him yet he found himself nodding and taking both pieces and setting them down upon the dining table only now realising his ring still lie untouched from the last time he was here. Grimacing he pocketed the silver ignoring how it seemed to weigh more than it used to. After a solid 20 muinutes of just staring at the sword the boy started to snicker.

"What is it?" He did not turn his gaze towards him instead he opted to lift the sword again and inspect the break. "I might be able to have it guilded back together" He sighed before continuing. "I havnt seen anything like this since, well, your father." The boy let out another laugh before walking closer towards him to take a look at the sword. "I'd recommend gilding in the rods to support it first" Banquo added, Macbeth simply nodded. "That would be a wise idea"

"Wait just a moment I'll see who's here today" With that macbeth left leaving banquo and fleance stood alone in the dining room. "He hath noticed me not?" The boy laughed at his father's misfortune talking whilst they waited for macbeth to return. "I can have your sword mended however you will be unable to use it in a battel its too mutch of a risk. You should really get a new sword every few battels."

The boy nodded eagerly hanging onto every word he said. He took care to inform Fleance of the propper procedures of sword care for your safty as well as execution instead if lecturing him. "Getting new swords is rather important, I replace mine depending on how harsh the battel was. When did you last replace your's?" Macbeth stated at the sudden realisation that banquo was speaking, mainly for the fact he hadn't even registered he was there.

"You are in my castle, how did you get in my castle?" Banquo meerly jestured towards the door and jingled a set of keys. "You still have those?" Macbeth questioned, after a while he'd forgotten banquo even had a set."Why wouldn't I?" Banquo questioned.
"You never used them"
"I couldn't your wife was a-" he paused his words at the sight of his son and instead opted to clear his throat and say "naughty bad woman." Fleance gave him an odd glance before muttering "I'm 17?"

☆°○☆

Fleance snorted before glancing around and saying. "Yeah, where is she, i haven't seen her yet." He'd forgotten that she was known to the boy as the angry abrasive woman macbeth knew, he had returned home with Fleance one evening due to banquo being injured after battle and with his partner out of town, banquo had entrusted him with a four year old Fleance.

Lady macbeth had not been happy, they had both agreed not to have children yet it didn't mean he disliked them, he vaguely recalled the young fleance padding into his room in the middle of the night and tugging on his shirt asking to stay with him. Macbeth knew how to look after a child as mutch as he knew how to climb a smooth stone wall. He didn't. However banquo had told him a few days later of how the young fleance had excitedly bragged out his stay with macbeth, the things he took him out to do.

He was brought out of his moment by banquo awkwardly changing the topic leaving the question unanswered. "Why don't we all go and get some new swords" The other two looked towards him with with opposing expressions; where fleance wore one of excitement macbeths saw nothing but dread. "But I've had this sword for years" Banquo looked at macbeths sword, why did he have it on him?, and pointed out that it indeed was paper thin.

"Itle snap like his, last thing you want is hath a sword" He knew his logic sure, but he didn't want to accept it. "We don't have mutch time to waste getting a new sword feels wrong" Banqo nodded in understanding but this time he would push. This time he wouldn't risk it. "Then you should get starting soon" In all honestly he expected more of a push after all the man did not mess about when it came to his swords. He nodded. "You have a point"

"Is there something going on?" Both men turned their heads towards the boy, their son, the boy who had joined the gard. "There is rumours that the East are assembling an army, the last attack was the Irish and Norwegians now however it appears the east are conspiring with Norway again. We are not sure what is going to happen." There was a moment of silence, their confidentual information spilled at a whim for their son, his safety.

"Are you sure you wish to remain here?" Fleance nodded nothing but determination plastered across his face. "This is what I chose, its what I'll do."
He saw how both men looked at him with concern and whilst he knew it wasn't due to his ability to fight he couldn't help but feel sick knowing if this happened they might not all make it out.
"Fine, we shall go now. And fleance not a word if that to anyone else." The boy nodded and macbeth set off to get ready.

Chapter Text

"Macbeth" He glanced up at the call of his name a familiar voice in which beckoned his attention towards her. "Yes?" The woman sat down beside him, running her hand through his hair and cupping the side if his face. "My child are you quite alright? I wished not to intrude thoes few days yet I fear for your heath." He pulled her into a tight embrace, he didn't wish for her to worry. She shouldn’t have to. "I didn't know you were there, not until I saw you stood behind banquo."

She nodded a sollem look in her eyes as she rested her head against her son's shoulder. "I see you two finally worked it out" He allowed himself to relax, to enjoy the calm convosation; one he hadn't got to have in a while. "If your talking about our relationship then I supose so, how long have you suspected?" Sarah let out a light chuckle before saying "Since the day you met Marcus and I knew there was something between you, yet I do fear it will be your downfall."

Macbeth nodded at his mother's words acknowledging the fact it wasn't out if hate yet fear, fear of loosing them both. "There is rumours of another battel, if sutch were to take place I fear it may be my last. I plan to wright my will and strey ahead of banquo for I wish not for his fate to be but of my own." Her hand tightened around his followed by the brush of her head against his shoulder as she nodded.

"You have come to terms with this fact why, my child, have you accepted this?" They sat in a sollem silence for a moment nothing but silent tears left upon his mother's face. Macbeth knew he was destined to die; he had bitten the ripe fruits of death herself that verry night and by escaping had soild the room in its seeds only to grow his inevitable fate in the verry room he slept.

"My moovements are not of standard my shoulder weighs me down and every breath that is drawn only serves to suffocate me. I should not be here today and if that is what the Lord sees fit than that will come about." She could only sob at her son's words, she had always told him to be truthful with her yet now she wished for nothing but a lie. "You were suposed to bury me"
"I know"

☆°○☆

"Dad" The man smiled at his son, door open wide as he invited him inside. "My banquo it has been too long, how are you fairing?" Marcus shut the door behind his son and drew another chare up in the living room. "In all honestly I am here in I'll conscious, I wish to ask a favour of you." He looked up at his son confusion and hesitancy interlaced with each glance he took whilst pooring the glasses.

"What ti's be?" Banquo did not speak, not straight away, as if contemplating weather this was the right course of action. He drew a scroll from his bag. "I want you to take care of Fleance when I die, I entrust all my titles and part fortune towards him. Part of that fortune will be yours and my proprietary I trust in your hands until he is of age, it will not be long, but I'm sure I can ensure his safty with not just my father but a fellow thane?"

The silence that followed his words was heavy, suffocating to say the least and only the more emphasised by Banquos outstretched hand offering the scroll, his will. "If I may ask, why when all is at peace do you hand me sutch a sollem inquiry?" He had a point, they had fought many battels before and never did either wager at the prospect of death.

"There is roumers of another battle, I fear in the light of recent events we may not make it if appart each skill one lacks the other possesses which would explain our joint in roll. If one fall I fear the fate bless'd the other." His father nodded, taking hold of the scroll yet not opening it. "I understand. Macbeth, what does he make of this?"

Banquo meerly shook his head. "If I was to tell him sutch thing he would ensure I do not fight and ultimately we would fail." Once more he nodded a look of sollem understanding meeting banquos exasperated self. "You look tired." Banquo nodded. "I am."

☆°○☆

"My lancelot" Macbeth smiled as his love approached him, something heavy weighing in his chest at the thought he may never see him again. "My Arthur, what brings us here?" They took their seat against the base of the tree, in their clearing. "I have drawn up my will, I wish for Fleance to have all my titles properties and wealth. Duncan has ensured he will do Sarah well."

Banquo didn't quite know what to say, he knew he had drawn up his own yet hearing Macbeth had surely done the same? It meant they both knew what was coming and with that they were sure to die. "Why Fleance?" Macbeth lent his head on his partners shoulder gaze still fixed in their interlaced hands. "Because as mutch as he is a son to you, he is like the child I never got to keep to me. I wish to do good by him if not as a mentor but as your partner."

He knew macbeth never spoke of the child, it had been tradgic, something he had never recovered from. It was the only time he had known him to never show up to work. "I am glad you have found family, I am glad we get to send our days together even if it is to end so soon." Macbeth nodded at his words leaning in to place a kiss upon the man's lips. "Come to mine, I think we should wright some letters just explaining." Banquo nodded yet neither made a hint to moove.

They sat together warm against the cold winter air silent tears threatening to fall at the thought they would both loose this.
"It's never to late to leave" Macbeth said.
"We can't do that." The words came out nothing more than a pained breath, but it was the truth; they both knew it.
"I know" He whispered "I know."

Chapter Text

It had been one month since the battel, 29 days since the witches, 26 days since the attempt on banquos life, 25 days since she had died. Since he almost had. Now they fought here against an army double their size, but they could take it. They had to. It took macbeth 72 hours to push the front back; 73 hours before he found their commander, and so they fought. Snow fell in thick freezing lumps only to be dislodged by each step. Macduff pushed forward blade pulling away from macbeths sword as he landed a kick to his chest, sending macbeth stumbling backwards.

Macbeth landed a kick to his wife's chest, sending her stumbling onto the balcony in which she fell over. He kept his footing firm and pushed forth ignoring the thoughts that clawed their way to the front of his mind. "Why won't you just die already?" The man spat "Why won't you just die already?" She screamed. Macbeth didn't answer, instead he took another swing leaving himself open for the hit that collided with his skull sending him hurtling towards the ground.

He went to push back, he really tried to. Oh god banquo please belive me. But the man straddled him his free hand patching around his throat. He was tired, I supose that's what the nights torment brings you. The world swam "Not so brave macbeth is it?" He choked attempting to reach for his sword as Macduff taunted him leaning closer to observe the man he would soon kill. He expected a retort, a plea just anything. But macbeth said nothing. Macduff meerly stared and opened his mouth to speak again when he was cut off by one word, a name. Something that threw him off entirely. "Tiffany?"

He seemed almost confused as he whispered the name, falling limp shortly after. Macduff had heard the roumers, a wife gone mad and attempted to kill everyone and then herself in their sleep. He remembered looking at his own that evening and deciding; that wouldn't happen to someone like macbeth. But here they are now, both men bleeding laying in the snow, one conscious the other not.

He stared down upon the man, the man that could of been anyone. Yet he was determined to have killed him because it was macbeth. The witches had told him it was what made him king but looking upon the situation it didn't seem right. Macbeth was not the king, but to King Duncan he might as well have been.
He continued to stare at the man who was fighting for his king and not against him. He loosened his grip around the mans throat.
And he reached for his sword.

☆°○☆

Banquo pushed forward having recived word that macbeth had found their commander, now all he had to do was find him. Young snow fell from the sky only to settle in the mist of battel, where most have been now lie empty all that remained being their shredded bodys and blood. And two men in the snow. Macbeth. He ran, uncaring as to how his amour clashed giving his position. "Get off him!" He screamed sutch useless words with a horse voice, greeting a love he had already lost.

Macduff reached for his sword, and plunged it deep into macbeths chest. Banquo watched as his body learched upon impact, each stab and pull causing his body to twitch in recognition of the atrocitys being committed. Banquo could only wayvh, it was just like his nightmares for he only stared in horror as macbeths blood seeped into the snow and his head limply shook whith evey slam of impact.

The man took a few steps back and observed as banquo dropped to the side of macbeth an icy hand cradling the side of a warm face. "Oh god" his words came out a strained and twisted mess as he shook the man infront of him. "Arthur? My dearest she-" banquo was cut off by the man who still stood behind them. The man he should of killed. "You are foolish, I could have killed you." Banquo looked back towards the man "You fool, you have killed me, why not take the rest upon your sword?" He needed to stabs, he knew he needed to fight- for Fleance, oh god Fleance. But he had said his words, and it was too late to remorse over longcomings.

☆°○☆

Macduff scoffed at his words and raised his bloody sword. "I plan too" and with that Macduff plunged his sword through banquos back forcing him to drop facedown in the snow beside macbeth. Macduff expected him to try get back up, to retaliate. But he didn't. Instead he lent over, a hand gripping macbeths shirt as he pressed his head towards his shoulder and whispered; "I love you, Im sorry"Macduff stood watching as the two bleed out beside each other in an oddly romantic jesture.
Your honour there gay.

He pulled his sword from banquos back only to be startled as scream cut through the air followed by a sharp clang as a boy ran forwards. "The war is over, leave" but the boy dropped to his knees and sobbed, rolling over the man which grabbed onto the other long dead commander begging him to wake up. "The war is over." Macduff sent for the rest of his soldiers to retreat, for the rebels to be left. They had held their part of the deal, that's all they needed. He took in the boys appearance and how he resembled the older commander slowly putting the pieces together, his son.
He did not appear a threat only a pathetic and blubbering mess.
Macduff did not have to worry about him; just like how macbeth hadn't worried about his wife.

Chapter Text

Fleance had learned not to forgive the hard way, when he had held his father cold and bloody in the snow. He lost eveything that day, his father's, his mentors his family. His father had died with the vision of his wife whilst his dad morned for the loss of his love. He did not have to kill them both, he wasn't suposed to. Yet he did. Macduff had simply walked away after all someone like that couldnt care about someone like him.
Not back then; but he does now.

He cares as he kneels infront of him bloodied and broken. "How do you feel? Having to live for months on end without your wife, without those close to you?" Fleance had sent for them to be killed through malcoms command after all his father, Duncan, had resented the man since that day. He remembered how the kingdom had drowned in black for months and sometimes he swears it never went back. "I had to live like that every single day of my life after that battel, consider it mercy that I'm killing you." Macduff spat on the ground infront of him "they would hate you" Fleance nodded pressing his sword into Macduffs stomach. He remembered how his father had killed people in the war.

"Maybe so, but I'd rather ask for forgiveness than spend eternity wishing I'd done it." He drove the blade into Macduffs stomach only to wrip it up through his chest only stopping below his chin. He stood as the man gagged and coughed bleeding out slowly into the snow. Bleeding out how his parents did. "Forgive me later but I had to do it." He had inherited titles from both macbeth and banquo after their deaths, it had caused many to question their relation after all it was known they had died in each others arms. It was known Fleance was banquoes son; so why did he get macbeths titles?

Whilst many were confused it only confirmed it for Fleance. He had never been told personally and if anything it hurt more, because they never had the chance. He had read the letters they sent each other regularly along with each of their diarys detailing every convosation and feeling that could never be expressed outloud. Fleance recalled how he had told his mother, they had ensured they were buried beside each other and all these years later fresh flowers still litter their graves.

Macduff was dead, his parents had had their justice. Fleance could rest.
He layed his bloodied helmet upon the counter placing an arm around his partner. "Is it done?" He nodded at Malcoms words leaning in closer to see what he was cooking. "Yes, he is delt with" Malcom nodded before shrugging him off. "Go get cleaned up I don't want you trapsing mud and," He glanced at the helmet and sword "that, in my kitchen" Fleance could only smile a sense of relief washing over him as he placed a kiss on his partners cheek. "Of course my dearest" with a scrape from his helmet and the clinking of his sheifed sword he made his way towards the stairs.

Somewhere upon a heath a few miles away some witches sat agast at their prophecy, it had been fulfilled to its fullest but not how they expected. Macbeth was seen as king to many despite never owning the crown, banquo had got kings despite having none. He had always had mutch lesser yet he had been happier than macbeth. He had been richer in family and trust, in those little moments that round the edges of a person; macbeth had been carved through with stone up untill the verry end, untill Duncan, untill banquo.
Macbeth and Banquo rested together, hands intertwined in their shared coffin headstones beside each other.

Macbeth had always wanted to die, and because of it his love died with him. Hearing was one of the last things someone dying lost, so whilst his consciousness slipped he had heard Banquo scream his name just how Banquo had heard Fleance. Dying was sutch a selfish act for someone so vallient.