Hello, ModernDayBard here! Welcome to the first chapter of Upon this Blasted Heath, my Macbeth fanfic. So yeah, this chapter is sort of an unofficial prologue, with more character and world backstory than actual plot, but I feel it's still necessary. Besides, I wanted a perspective on Duncan as a daddy, in addition to being a king or general.
Remember: I don't own Macbeth (plot, dialogue, or characters), and anything in bold and italics are words that are either Shakespeare's or part of the prologue of Regent University's production of this show. However, the words with which I narrate, non b-and-i dialogue, and the new direction this story takes are completely my own.
Never since the crown had been placed upon his head had Duncan, king of Scotland, felt so helpless. Though three Thanes had risen in rebellion at the start of his ten-year reign, intending to block his ascension and take his life, he had never felt so sharp a fear threatening to cut so deeply into him.
The fear had begun several months ago, when his queen had informed him that the child they had longed for—the heir to Duncan's crown and throne—was conceived at last. As joyful as the news was, the king knew full well that so much could happen in the post-catastrophe society to threaten both mother and child. Duncan's dread had only increased when it became undeniably clear that his wife was carrying twins—childbirth was dangerous enough without the added complication of a second child. The final blow had come in the past few weeks, as the queen's health had begun to decline. At last, the royal doctor had insisted that they had no other choice—the twins had to be delivered to have any chance of saving either child.
It had not been lost on the king that nothing had been said of saving the queen.
Duncan's pacing and introspection was interrupted at last by a loud, sustained wail from behind the chamber door. The king froze, daring to hope—the cry was a child's, and it was quite strong. Determination to be with his family overcame his resolution to follow the doctor's orders to remain outside, and Duncan entered the chamber only to be met the physician's assistant, who thrust the wailing firstborn into the stunned father's arms.
The king spared a moment to watch the doctor and his assistant as they were busy about the queen, trying to safely deliver the other twin, before looking down to the infant in his arms. She'd been cleaned and wrapped in a blanket, but Duncan found himself marveling that she still carried on her robust protestations.
*She's a strong fighter, this one.*
Instinctively he tried to calm or quiet his daughter, even as he returned his attention to the two medics. He knew little of their field of expertise, but even he could tell that things were not going well—that there was a real possibility that both child and mother would be lost. The minutes stretched on interminably, each passing moment making it more and more unlikely that the second child would survive.
There was one moment when he noticed the doctor and her assistant hesitate, hands still for once as they both glanced over at their shoulder at the warrior-king, who was still holding his daughter. Duncan knew then that the queen had been lost, and though his sorrow pierced him deep, yet he kept his expression blank and voice level as he intoned, "She'd want you to save the child, if you yet can."
In another minute, the younger twin was at last delivered. This one was a boy, much smaller than his sister and, it was easy to see, much less healthy. He could scarce manage more than a whimper, and his movements were weaker, less defined. That night, as the king watched the two of them laying side-by-side, he knew he had to face the very real possibility that his son—his heir—would not survive the coming weeks.
The doctor glanced over at Duncan, taking in the weary, lined face and dark hair beginning to grey as she searched for any sign of what he was thinking. Unable to determine anything, she asked at length, "Have you thought of names yet, my lord?"
"Malcolm," Duncan all but whispered as he gently placed his hand on the small head of his son, who moved only a little at the contact. "... and Donalbain," the king finished, moving his hand to the girl, who flailed her fist at first touch, then returned to a peaceful sleep.
The doctor ceased her attempt to determine the king's mind at that point, simply accepting from his calculating expression that he had a plan.
He did, indeed. At the time, Scottish law dictated he acknowledge Malcolm as his heir—as it stood, Donalbain could not succeed her father, elder though she was, because of her womanhood. Quietly though, Duncan began to plan how to change the laws should something happen to Malcolm, allowing Donalbain to become his heir and keep the family line secure. At first, the preparations seemed necessary for, during the first few years of the twins' lives, Malcolm's survival continued to seem in question. Donalbain, on the other hand, fulfilled her father's expectation, growing strong with a fighter's spirit.
Duncan never voiced his doubts or plan aloud, vowing to himself to only make such a potentially politically damning move if Malcolm proved an incapable heir. He insured that both children were trained from the earliest point possible as warrior-nobles in the new tradition. For the moment, Duncan knew, Donalbain would face less resistance, as while it seemed a female heir was unthinkable, yet paradoxically a female Thane or general was not only a theoretical possibility, but a reality in several cases.
For their part, both twins were well aware of their father's supposedly private doubts and the reasons behind them—there was no escaping the fact that for years Malcolm was smaller than his sister and not as strong or healthy. Donalbain privately concluded it was her duty to protect her brother, to ensure he would live to take their father's place when the time came, and thus became a skilled fighter, able to wield many weapons, but preferring the dirk. Malcolm, for his part, felt it his duty to put to rest the doubts of the Thanes and even his own father. Therefore, while he did request to be trained as a battlefield medic, he did not neglect to learn the necessary skills of combat, specializing in mace-and-chain fighting.
Thus over the years, the prince grew strong, and while any who saw the two together would still consider Donalbain to be healthier, Duncan no longer feared for his son's life, and began to make plans to formally acknowledge him as the Prince of Cumberland and the king's official heir.
In the twenty-seventh year of Kind Duncan's reign, when the twins were nearing the age of eighteen, Macdonwald, Thane of the northernmost fiefdom, rose in rebellion, aided by the forces of Ireland and Norway. Duncan rallied his loyal Thanes and generals to meet the threat, and as Malcolm and Donalbain were old enough to join in the battle, they were assigned to be under the command of the king's most capable general: Macbeth, Thane of Glamis.
Well, now the stage is set for the story to unfold! If you like it, or if you see something that I can improve on, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!
Oh, and if the titles of the chapters look or sound weird, all of them are lines or phrases from the actual play (with the exception of 'Prologue,' of course).