Malcolm II
Malcolm II, King of the Highlands, was a warrior without a war to fight. Eager to prove himself and his family to a kingdom which had looked upon his weak father with scorn and derision, Malcolm spent his long reign looking for some reason—any reason—to invade or crusade or otherwise call his people to arms. And yet, for 35 years, he found none.
Born just before his mother went off to fight in the battle between the Seven Queens and the False Kings, it might be said that a life of conflict seemed pre-ordained for young Malcolm MacMalcolm. But whether it was or it wasn’t, the boy’s feisty older sister would make certain he knew how to defend himself—whether sparring with fists or with words.
Brought up on stories of his mother’s exploits on the battlefield as well as the lively debates she held in the halls of power, Malcolm trained both his body and mind for a future where he might follow in her footsteps. After all, until the establishment of male-preference primogeniture in 164, he was the spare and not the heir. But once his mother struck the deal with the rebellious and misogynistic nobles that elevated Malcolm above his sister in the line of succession, everything changed. Soon enough, his father was dead and Malcolm was the king.
At his coronation, seeking to make a clean break from his father’s legacy of weakness and indecision, Malcolm invented the tradition for which he is now best known. Calling back to the wild stories of his grandfather, Malcolm established the practice of the new monarch beheading the body of their predecessor. It was said that Grandpa Hamish believed you could inherit the power of a person only by parting their head from their body, and so that was just what Malcolm and every future King or Queen of the Highlands would do until the dissolution of that office—and what every Queen of the United Kingdom of Wonderland would do after that.
Fortunately for the kingdom and perhaps unfortunately for the battle-ready Malcolm, that was the only act of state-sponsored violence which he would ever be called upon to commit. For over three decades, the Highlands remained at peace with all of their neighbors and suffered not a single rebellion within their own borders. Fate refused Malcolm even the gift of a modest uprising. And in 201, at fifty-seven years old, he departed peacefully from this life.
Another "there can be only one" fella! Love these guys!
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