Alternate 'Macbeth' Ending

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

I re-wrote the very last scene of Macbeth The whole time I was reading Macbeth at school I thought it would be a great twist for the person who kills Macbeth to be born from a trans guy.
Unfortunately I didn't get to do that in here but I still had fun writing it and I hope you do too!

Submitted: April 22, 2018

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Submitted: April 22, 2018



Macbeth was facing the man he had just slain. “Why should I play the fool and walk into my own death when others have made so many of the same mistakes and suffered nothing?” His mind made up; Macbeth was tired. Just then a voice came from behind him.

“Turn, hell-hound, turn!” He swung round and was confronted with an over confident youth brandishing a sword that was far too big for him. Macbeth smiled wryly.

“And who, pray tell,” Macbeth swung his sword lazily, “are you?” The youth laughed – yes laughed. He shook off his cloak to reveal plain clothes belonging to neither side.

“You don’t recognise your own daughter?” Macbeth froze. His daughter? His daughter? His daughter? The youth laughed again although Macbeth barely registered it this time. “My name is Christian, and I have to kill you,” she said with certainty. Macbeth felt his sword slipping and grasped it firmly, Christian’s words registering.

He shook his head, “It’s pointless – as much as you want to make me bleed you’re more likely to die yourself. I live a blessed life which will never be ended by one born of a woman.” Christian let out a gleeful peal of laughter quite out of place on a battlefield.

“And that, Father, is the best part. I have no mother. She never existed. My parent who birthed me is not, and never was a woman.” Christian’s voice softened then. “You never knew that, did you? That your wife wasn’t a woman? That she kept that whole part of herself hidden from you.”

Macbeth exploded then, “You lie! Elizabeth had no living children. My sons both died! Albert was only three months and Christian died immediately! You stole his name! Be gone with you!”

Christian advanced, her face flushed with anger, “She lied! Bet lied! She knew you wanted a son and was afraid of what you’d do to a girl, so she told you I died but I was raised by the sister of her Lady-in-Waiting.” She raised her sword – my sword Macbeth realised suddenly, the sword he’d fought with in his first battle – and charged with an inhumane yell. Macbeth lifted his sword to meet hers instinctively and they fought. Sometimes Macbeth was in the lead, sometimes Christian. Whoever had taught her had taught her well, he noted. There were tears in her eyes as she thrust her sword forwards, deep into his stomach. She yanked it out and then up into his heart. Tears dripped down her face as she removed the blade and dropped Macbeth’s body gently to the ground, clasping his hand.

“I’m sorry, Father, but I did what I had to.” Macbeth looked up at her, taking in the dark hair swept over her sweaty face, the blue eyes so like Bet’s and the steady strength in them that he’s had as a younger man. Macbeth swallowed one last tie and died looking into his daughter’s face. Christian wiped her face dry then stood up and walked away, leaving her sword stuck in the ground beside Macbeth’s lifeless body.


Christian never claimed her fame for killing “the tyrant”. She did however claim her birthright and proudly introduced herself as Christian Macbeth for the rest of her life, looking straight into the person’s eye as if daring them to confront her. Those few who did usually regretted it.

© Copyright 2018 Oh2e. All rights reserved.

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