A/N: This's my first fic on here. I'm worried. O-o So worried.

Anyways. This is a Macbeth fic, primarily contrived due to absolute boredom in English.

So, please, R&R.

Your comments are greatly appreciated!

Oh, and this is just a prologue, so it's supposed to be short.

Broken Crown, Dented Scepter

Prologue

"Who're you?"

"Thane of Cawdor, Master."

"Why have you been sent here?"

"To look after my lord and master."

"Geez, do they think I need another babysitter?"

"Apparently so, Master."

Duncan sighed, pulling pale fingers through the curled blonde locks upon which his crown was placed. True, he was only seventeen, but he was the goddamn King of Scotland! He didn't need any more bodyguards. Especially this "Cawdor" fellow. Duncan didn't really like the way he looked- all shifty-eyed and whatnot. "So what's your name, worthy thane?"

"Macbeth, Master," the brown-eyed man continued," sent to be your guard after defeating the traitorous past Thane of Cawdor."

"Oh, that was you?" the young royal asked in excitement. "Oh I heard that was an amazing battle. I do admire you so." Mabye this man wasn't so bad. He had helped save Scotland after all.

"Thank you for the compliment, Master." Macbeth tossed his tree-bark hair out of his tanned face. He slowly approached the young king, taking Duncan's pale face into his own dark-skinned hand. "You're rather cute, Master. I think we'll get along quite well." And with that, the older man brought their lips together into a chaste, and brief, kiss, and then left the throne room to explore the rest of his new home.

Duncan could only blush. What kind of man was Macbeth?