One day, while they were at a small fair, and their wives had paired off to admire the handmade goods, Banquo and Macbeth found themselves lured into the tent of a supposed psychic.
Once inside, the flaps fell closed behind them, further darkening the already dimly lit tent.
The intricately dressed woman sitting behind the table looked up from under the layers of cloth, she beckoned them over and motioned for them to sit.
She grasped each of their right hands and stared at them intently. After several moments of silence, she dropped their hands.
"I sense that you both are being untrue to yourselves. You share a secret that no one knows about, and it hurts deeply."
She said,her voice thick with an accent neither of the men could place.
"I see great things in your futures. You shall soon become a leader," She said, pointing at Macbeth.
"and you, you shall also rise to power, but in different ways."she said, pointing towards Banquo.
"However, both of you shall be left and lost, but for the better."
She sat back down, and after several moments of silence, both men left the tent and the strange woman behind.
They regrouped with their wives, who were carrying several handmade items. They parted ways and returned to their respective houses.
Over the next few days, both men dwelled on the words of the fortune teller, but didn't speak a word to anyone else.
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The Macbeth Where Nobody Dies
FanfictionA surprising twist on the classic story of Macbeth.
