Born Of Two Mothers
Continued from here…
Darkness consumed the land as Evyavan set foot on the old familiar soil. He knelt down and dug his hand into the earth, picking it up and watching the grains of sand seep through his fingers. He looked through his long black hair over his face to see the kingdom before him, the castle in the distance. The sun had hidden behind the clouds, and the sky was coloured a dark, dismal grey. He thought of how he would rule his kingdom in darkness. An evil smile crept onto his face.
Evyavan and Aryavan were born of two mothers, and shared very little in common. From the time they were children they would constantly break into fights over the silliest things, Evyavan starting most of them. Aryavan was more civilized and thereby respected by both his father and his mother. Evyavan’s mother had died while giving birth and the king had remarried in order to keep his throne. Aryavan’s mother was known as the most beautiful woman in all the lands, as all the princes had fought for her, but only their father had succeeded in making her his queen.
When Aryavan became king, it was not due to his father’s death, but the mysterious death of his mother, the queen. The kingdom was in shock as her body had been found lying on the ground after falling many feet from the top of a tower. No one knew what she had been doing there, but Arvayan knew that Evyavan would often hang around that tower. He questioned his brother over her death but found out nothing. It was only after the king announced the heir to the throne that the truth came to be known.
Aryavan was chosen to be the next king and his father called upon the neighbouring kingdoms to bring forth their princess’s as his son was ready to be married. Evyavan was furious at his fathers decision and immediately protested in front of the entire kingdom. His father was put to shame as Evyavan called him out for choosing his weak, and inexperienced brother over him. It was true that Aryavan had done little work in the castle, and Evyavan was far more suited, but the king knew that Evyavan would get up to no good.
That night Aryavan found it hard to fall asleep, and this just might have been a premonition of the danger that was to come. As he slowly fell asleep a shadow crept through the window, approaching him ever so slowly. It was a familiar figure, one that he had known since he was a child. The figure approached, slowly yet steadily, carrying a sword in its hand. As it reached his bedside the sword was raised high into the air, preparing to plunge into Arvayan’s chest.
He woke up with a start to see his brothers face, and a sword hovering above him. Evyavan brought the sword down quickly, but not quick enough as Aryavan managed to roll over, missing the razor-sharp steel by mere centimeters. He got onto his feet and dodged yet another attempt. “What are you doing, brother?”, he asked, confused as to why his brother would do such a thing.
“The kingdom belongs to me!”, he replied, “you know that. And yet you stood there as our father did the unthinkable.”
“He did what he felt was right and only in the best interest of the kingdom and its people”, Aryavan responded, “you know otherwise it would have been you!”
“I should be their best interest! The people of this kingdom are fools that are swayed by their emotions. They do not understand the way I think, and that is what sets me apart from these imbeciles, and most of all, from you!” Evyavan exclaimed, thrusting the sword towards his brother.
“If our father finds out you killed me you will never rule this land”, Aryavan cried in desperation, his brother was faster than him, “how will you feel then?”
“Our father will meet the very same fate as you, dear brother”, Evyavan said with a grin on his face, “and die of the very same blade”.
Aryavan felt a chill run down his spine as he realized his brother was not kidding, his father would die if he didn’t do something. He looked around for anything he could use to defend himself. There was nothing. It was then that he noticed the window was still open, and from that height any fall would be fatal. He kept his distance from his brother whilst slowly moving closer and closer to the window, hoping his brother would attempt another thrust forward.
Once he reached the window he stopped and looked straight in his brothers eyes. “There is no use of me running from you”, he said,”if you want me dead then so be it. Come, kill me.”
Evyavan charged forward, screaming as he thrust the sword towards Aryavan, but this time his brother was quick. Before Evyavan could react his brother had already moved, leaving Evyavan to run into the open window, his body and the sword flying into the air. He couldn’t bear to watch his brother fall, and quickly ran to his fathers chamber to tell him of what had happened.
The king was shocked to hear of Evyavan’s intentions, yet ordered Aryavan to find his body. Amazingly, he still lived, though his body had taken a beating. His face was scared and no longer looked human, and his arms and legs were badly bruised. Evyavan hated his brother for letting him live, as he had no hope of finding a queen when he looked as he did. From then on he was looked at with scorn and often even spit on as he walked through the kingdom.
Evyavan swore that day to avenge himself and become the ruler of the land, the heir to his rightful throne. He would kill his brother if he had to, nothing would come in his way, not even his own flesh and blood. That was just the way he was.
He stepped forward through the gates of the kingdom, taking in the sight of what he knew in his heart was rightfully his, knowing what he had to do.