hello everyone! here is your finale!
so sorry it took forever! I was totally focused on my Big Hero 6 fanfics...
but here it is! it's a bit short but i felt that was all it needed to be. Macbeth and Banquo have come a long way, and I hope you enjoy their character development! I very much enjoyed writing them, and if anyone has any ideas for other fanfics please send them my way!
PLEASE read and review! I'd love your feedback!
(i'm very sensitive to criticism but i really just want some reviews, you don't have to review if you don't want to...)
seriously tho plz review
thanks so so so much everyone!
peace out!
-macbeth-
two years later
A scream echoes from the birthing chamber, and I glance worriedly at the door. Kniertje's baby is right on time, but I'm worried. What if Katavid has to take it by Caesarian?
Two-year-old Banner toddles over to me, grabbing my tunic and staring up at me with huge blue eyes. "Dada, when baby come?"
I smile down at my son, scooping him up onto my lap and poking him in his chubby toddler stomach. "It'll be soon, Banner. Soon you'll have a baby cousin, and he or she will be your best friend, I'm sure of it."
Banner grabs onto my tunic and snuggles against my stomach—which is thankfully a little less round than it used to be. I've finally grown out of my baby fat, though it's not much of an accomplishment at nineteen. I've grown about three inches, too, which is impressive. I'm still shorter than Banquo, though.
Several minutes pass, and then Katavid steps out of the birthing room. "It's a boy! You can come in, Macbeth."
I stand up and carry Banner into the room, catching sight of Banquo kneeling by Kniertje's bed. The Norwegian princess cradles a baby in her arms, pale-skinned and rosy-cheeked. His hair is jet-black, and his wide eyes are a beautiful, icy dark blue color.
"He's beautiful," I whisper to Banquo, putting a hand on my best friend's shoulder. "What are you going to name him?"
Banquo smiles up at me, his eyes filled with happy tears. "Fleance. Fleance Banquo Lochaber."
"Fleance?" I ask, bewildered. "What kind of a name is Fleance?"
"It's a great name!" Banquo says defensively. "It means 'brave warrior.' And I think it suits him."
"Fweance?" Banner asks, stroking the baby's dark hair. "I wike it. He so small."
"It does suit him," I tell Banquo, smiling. "I'm so glad you finally have a son. I think Banner really likes him."
"Thanks," Banquo murmurs, pulling me into a hug. "I'm so sorry Skye couldn't be here, Macbeth. But I promise you'll find love again."
"I hope so," I whisper. "Skye was the love of my life, and I've never wanted anyone else—but I know she'd want me to marry again, to have more kids and find someone to help me raise Banner. So I'm going to try. Any recommendations?"
Banquo laughs. "I've seen you with my sister. Elinor is pretty, isn't she?"
"She is," I reply, blushing slightly. "But it's a bit soon for marriage."
Banquo gives me a knowing smile. "We'll see, Macbeth. We'll see."
"Dada!" Banner exclaims. "I pway with baby?"
"Not yet, Banner," I tell the toddler. "He's too small. But you can play with him when he's older."
"But want him older now," Banner says exasperatedly. "Baby no fun if not play."
I laugh, running a hand through my son's already messy hair. "He'll get older, little one. And I'm sure you two will be best friends."
Banner smiles up at me, his sky-blue eyes wide and cheerful. "Today happy, Dada."
"Yes," I whisper. "Today we can all be happy."
I congratulate Banquo and Kniertje again and take Banner outside to give the new family some privacy. My toddler squirms in my arms as I carry him out into the sunlight, and I set him down on the grass to play.
Standing on the lush green hill, I remember how I stood here with Banquo after we took Castle Dunsinane back from Gruoch. I had just gotten married to Skye, and everything seemed so bright and new and happy.
Now Skye is gone.
I take a deep breath and try to be happy, to drive the sadness from my mind, by remembering the song I wrote for Skye's funeral.
By yon bonnie banks
And yon bonnie braes
Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond
Where me and my true love
Were ever want to gae
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.
Oh, ye'll take the high road
And I'll take the low road
And I'll be in Scotland afore ye,
But me and my true love
Will never meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.
That verse is rather sad, but the last verse I wrote gives me hope. I wrote the song to remember Skye, not to keep mourning over her. It's written from Skye's perspective, to help me remember that I'll see her again in heaven.
The battle is o'er
And the journey is through
And Scotland shall have peace forever,
And me and my true love
Will one day meet again
On the banks of Loch Lomond together.
Oh, ye took the high road
And I took the low road
And I came to Scotland afore ye,
But me and my true love
Are finally here again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond.
I wipe an unbidden tear from my cheek and watch Banner happily playing in the grass. My son is everything to me—he reminds me of Skye more every day. Banner's hair is the same color as mine, but his eyes are still huge and still the color of the cloudless sky above us. When I look into those eyes, I see my wife and everything she stood for. I don't know what I'd do without Banner.
My son toddles across the grass toward me and wraps his tiny arms around my knees. "Hungwy, Dada."
I scoop Banner up, cuddling the chubby little toddler against my chest. "Okay, little guy. You want sticky buns?"
Banner nods earnestly. "Stiiiiiiiiiiiiiicky buns…"
I laugh and carry Banner into the dining hall, then set him down on the floor. The toddler makes his way over to the table on the far side of the room and starts grabbing sticky buns off a platter. I join him after a few minutes, looking down at Banner's round, frosting-smeared face. He's so adorable I can't even.
Banner falls asleep after a considerable amount of sticky buns, and I carry him back to his room, placing him gently in his crib. He sucks his thumb as I pull the covers over him, and I smile. I thought I'd never be happy again without Skye—but Banner makes life worth living. And Banquo doesn't hurt either.
I climb into my bed, which stands next to Banner's, and curl up under the covers. I'm suddenly tired—sometimes I get like that, probably from the effort required for raising a toddler. It can be exhausting, but I love it so much.
Closing my eyes, I let my mind carry me away into visions and fantasies of other worlds, the last words of Loch Lomond playing in my head.
And I allow myself a smile as I fall asleep.
-banquo-
Baby Fleance grows quickly, and before any one of us knows it, he's a bright, happy one-year-old, and he can finally play with Banner. Macbeth's son is so happy to have someone to play with, and he and Fleance get into more shenanigans every day. They're both so cute.
One evening, Macbeth, Kniertje, and I stand at Skye's grave in the Dunsinane cemetery. The dying sunlight casts a shadow over her headstone, nearly obscuring the words.
Here lies
Skyelin Heather Macduff Findlaech
1023-1041
Beloved daughter, wife, mother
May she meet with us again
Macbeth sinks to his knees in front of the grave, placing a bouquet of wildflowers on the soft grass. He whispers a soft prayer, probably asking God if this is the right thing to do.
I place a hand on Kniertje's baby bump, smiling at the tiny kicks that indicate Fleance's younger sibling. I hope Macbeth will marry my sister—then he can have more kids. I know he wants them. He and Elinor have been courting for several months, and I think my sister really likes him. They're so cute together, honestly. We all miss Skye, but she would have wanted Macbeth to get married again. So he's trying to figure out if it's the right decision to marry Elinor.
After several long minutes, Macbeth stands up, wiping his eyes. "It's okay," he whispers. "I'm going to marry her."
I pull my cousin into a hug, patting him on the back. "Congratulations, Macbeth," I murmur into his soft hair. "I'm so happy for you."
"Dada!" Banner toddles over the grass toward us, Fleance crawling rapidly behind him. "We go home now? Is getting dark." He points at the setting sun, then gives a tiny squeak and shields his eyes.
Macbeth scoops up his toddler and puts Banner on his shoulders. "Yes, little guy. It's time to go home."
I pick up Fleance and hug the one-year-old against my chest. My son puts his thumb in his mouth and promptly falls asleep—he's exhausted, poor little thing. Playing with Banner can be tiring.
See, Banner does indeed have magic. Sometimes weird things happen while he's around, like flying platters of sticky buns or falling objects. But the power hasn't caused anything bad to happen, which is good. It looks like Gruoch was only partially right about it—Banner seems to have the power to manipulate things, not people. And he hasn't had any mental problems or developmental delays like Gruoch said he might, so that's good. He might need to learn to control the magic when he's older, but hopefully that won't be for a while.
We carry the toddlers back into the stables, then saddle our horses and ride back to Inverness. The sun sets quickly, and the sky turns a dark royal blue and then deep velvety black. Millions of stars peek through the darkness, shining like tiny diamonds. I take a deep breath of the cool night air, letting it soothe my excited brain. I'm so excited that Macbeth is going to get married again—I wouldn't want him to be lonely all his life. And raising Banner will take at least two people, possibly three or four. That kid is a handful.
When we reach Inverness, I head back to my quarters with Kniertje and Fleance. The toddler is fast asleep, still sucking his thumb. I stroke his soft black hair as I place him in his crib, looking down at my son. I love Fleance so much—I'm so glad Kniertje agreed to have kids. And soon Fleance will have more cousins to play with, what with Macbeth's marriage to Elinor. I wonder when he'll propose—if she doesn't say yes, I'll jump off the top of Ben Lomond. Although I've already done that, so the roof might be a better idea.
I curl up in bed with Kniertje, placing a hand gently on my wife's stomach. She's only just starting to show, but I somehow knew long before she told me. Also, Katavid thinks the baby is going to be a girl, and he's never wrong, so Fleance can expect a baby sister. Hopefully they'll get along well.
Sleep takes me quickly, and my last thought is of the peace we've had lately. No Gruoch. No saving Scotland. No kingly duties to fulfill—at least until Fleance is old enough.
I hope it never ends.
Macbeth's and Elinor's wedding takes place at the height of summer, in the chapel at Dunsinane. Banner carries the rings, and I'm the best man—again. I didn't think I'd get to do it twice.
After the wedding, we all go back to Inverness for the reception. The grass is lush and green, and the sky is pale gray, lightly sprinkling rain down on us. I breathe in the damp air, calmed by the scents of the highlands. I reflect again on my joy that we managed to save this beautiful land, and how glad I am that I was able to be a part of it.
"Treat her well," I whisper to Macbeth as we enter the castle. "My mother always felt that her youngest daughter deserved the best."
"Of course," Macbeth tells me. "Nora is the light of my life. I'm always going to miss Skye, but I know this is what she would have wanted."
I smile at my childhood nickname for my sister. Elinor looks fondly into her new husband's eyes, her soft brown gaze warm and deep. There's no denying that my sister is beautiful, with her soft figure, full cheeks, and dark curly hair. Macbeth is hopelessly in love—when he falls for a girl, he falls hard. Gruoch, Skye, and now Nora have proved that.
Banner has completely accepted his stepmother, and he toddles as quickly as he can beside her. Kniertje carries Fleance, who's already tired from the wedding. My son sucks his thumb as he rests on Kniertje's chest, his eyes still open but beginning to close. Poor little guy—Banner tires him out.
The wedding feast is plentiful and filled with a sense of exuberant joy and deep contentedness. For three years, we've had peace in Scotland, and it will endure forever. I'm certain of it.
Though we lost people on the way, I know they sacrificed their lives for a better cause. Lennox, Ross, Malcolm, Donalbain, Duncan. Even Gruoch.
And Skye.
Because of them, Scotland is what it is today, and this land will be preserved for millennia.
And one day, we'll meet them again.
Oh, ye took the high road,
And I took the low road,
And I came to Scotland afore ye,
And me and my true love
Will one day meet again
On the bonnie, bonnie banks
Of Loch Lomond...
al fine