Kevlan ascended the stone stairway. Reaching the top, he spied the slumped shoulders of his elder brother, Rayan, who gazed out from the tower upon the lands of the kingdom.
“Still mourning father?” Kevlan asked.
“Yes… and no,” came the reply.
“What troubles you then?”
“The coronation is tomorrow. Since I was a child, I knew one day I would be king. But that was always a far off dream. It’s not even resting upon my head, but already the crown weighs heavily upon me.”
“You’ll be a fine king, ” assured Kevlan.
Turning to regard his younger sibling, Rayan asked “Will I?”
“You will with your loyal brother by your side,” smiled the man who had always been second in line.
Kevlan embraced his kin. The dagger slid between Rayan’s ribs easily. As he tossed his brother’s body out the window to the rocky shore below, Kevlan replied “You’d have been a good king. But I’ll be a great one.”
As Kevlan descended the stairs, he could already hear the crowd hailing his name.
Word Count: 177
[This is my entry this week into the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge, hosted by Priceless Joy. A photo prompt is given and writers are encouraged to create a short story of 100 – 150 words, + or – 25 words.]