AN: This is a story written to follow the conclusion of the 2015 Macbeth film. Hope you enjoy it. Please leave constructive criticism and tell us if you like the story. Sorry if we are slow between updates because there are are two of us writing the story together and we both go to separate schools. As usual, we don't own anything.

Dunsinane and Hereafter

Chapter 1

The smoke drifted in through the windows of Dunsinane castle, making it difficult to see the edges of the chamber. Malcolm, the soon-to-be king of Scotland, stood in the center as he wiped his sword off with a rag. He tilted the blade, studying it in the torchlight. The blade flickered in the haze. The sword was similar to the one his father had once carried. It had the same slim build and perfectly shaped handle. Crafted for his hand and even in this the two blades were alike, for his father's hands had been very much like his own.

The door creaked and an armored silhouette appeared. "A report, Your Majesty."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Macduff lives, barely."

"And my brother?"

"Prince Donalbain is returning from Ireland."

"Excellent." Malcolm sheathed his sword and made towards the door, the soldier falling in behind him.

The smoke was thicker outside, and lit up orange from the flaming Birnam Wood a several miles away. The battlements of Dunsinane castle were covered in soldiers, most with minor injuries but few dead. When Macduff, the Thane of Fife, had challenged and killed the tyrannical king Macbeth, most of Macbeth's soldiers had immediately disbanded. They had no loyalty to their former king, only fear of him. With so few guards, storming the castle had been easy.

In the fight, Macduff had been badly wounded. However, Malcolm was forced to leave him on the ground as he led the attack. He hoped the thane would forgive him.

Malcolm strode down the stairs and over towards the gate. " Abram!" he called to one of the senior English officers.

The man turned. "My lord?"

"Where is Macduff?"

"He is being taken inside. In what condition, I can't say."

"Thank you." Malcolm moved over to the gate and looked out. Emerging from the smoke he could see four figures struggling to carry a fifth between them. He ran out towards them. Malcolm's eyes widened as he saw the blood-soaked figure. Macduff's nose was horribly broken and blood seeped from a wounds in his side, chest, and arms. Despite the gruesome image, the king-to-be grabbed the thane's unwounded side. "We need a stretcher!" he bellowed to the guards by the door. They scurried inside and returned with one, which they held while the men placed Macduff on it.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Malcolm looked anxiously at the other men.

"Best leave him to the surgeons," replied one of the soldiers, an old toothless man. "And to God."

Malcolm nodded tensely. Although the two men had never been close, Macduff was a highly accomplished warrior and thane; the king needed his counsel in matters of both war and peace.

But nothing more was within his power. Instead he must turn to matters of the coronation.

Before the traitor Macbeth had murdered him, Malcolm's father, King Duncan, had named Malcolm Prince of Cumberland, making his eldest son the heir to the throne. But when Duncan was murdered, Malcolm had fled to England in fear for his own life. The respect Macbeth had earned through his prowess on the battlefield meant that he was given the throne. For, of course, nobody at that time knew the name of the murderer.

Malcolm had taken back the crown by force, allied with scottish thanes and the English king. He would now, as all Scottish kings did, go to the city of Scone to be crowned. Afterwards, he would travel to Forres castle, where the king lived.

Malcolm slammed the lid of his trunk closed after making sure everything was in place. His servants could have packed his trunk for him, but Malcolm wanted to make sure nothing was forgotten. After all, it was not everyday that you were crowned and it would not do to leave something behind.

Then on his chamber door someone knocked once, twice then silence. Malcolm started up, he had not been expecting anyone. "Enter," he called out, the grip on his sword pommel tight. Donalbain stepped in with a small smile on his face. "Donalbain" he cried out his tension vanishing, " how are you I was worried for I heard no word from you since we parted."Donalbain's face darkened a bit at reminder of their father's untimely death. "I am well the O Maolalaidh clan in Ireland let me stay with them. And how are you? The battle went well, I see."

"Yes, the battle was a victory," Malcolm said, "but I still do not know how I will be king the people might hate me and I might make taxes too high or…."

"Stop," Donalbain said sternly, "you will be fine and you will have advisors to help you." Donalbain made his way to the door and turned around. "I should be going now I am going to go help some soldiers look for Banquo's son." With that he pulled open the door with a little more force than necessary and shut it behind him with a click. Malcolm sighed. Donalbain had been close to Banquo and Malcolm had wanted to be the the one to break the news of his death to him, but obviously he had already heard. No matter, he thought to himself, What is done cannot be undone there was no use to try and figure out who told Donalbain, unaware he was repeating the same words that the former Queen had spoken only yesterday.

AN: Thanks for reading and remember to review.