Myshuno! Prompt: What did you put into these dates?

[fuzzyspork]

Prompt: What did you put into these dates? (from joandsarah)
Rating: Mature.  (Warning: brief language, violence, implied sexuality, crudity)
Word Count:  1330
Notes: This is written in first person narrative, and I rather suck at it.  But it was necessary in this case to avoid using the name of the POV character because I don't want to spoil the story before this situation actually plays out in my legacy.  Be warned, this is drama (written at 4 AM this morning... jet lag, gah) and touches on some things that some of you might find squiffy.  And I must emphasize that there will be NO incest in my legacy!  Marriage for political reasons does not necessarily mean marriage for procreation, and when siblings are acting as co-regents they are usually in a political marriage.  That said...


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Lounging on my couch I casually sipped my wine and watched my younger brother sitting across the table from me as he talked about something that was of great interest only to him.  I knew I was a perfect picture of feminine poise with my bare legs stretched out across the couch, one sandal dangling carelessly from the toes of my left foot and I gave it a little flip every few seconds to emphasize my aloofness.  My fine linen gown had slipped down off my shoulder and I nonchalantly twirled a black ringlet of hair around one of my fingers.

I had learned at a relatively young age that this posture could make even the most mannerly of men forget their own name.  From over my wine goblet I let the faintest of smiles touch the corners of my painted lips.  A smile I had practiced throughout my adolescence in front of a mirror every day until I had perfected it.  I even knew how to hold my kohl-lined eyelids in just the right way, with just the right heaviness to give the impression that the wine had already relaxed me enough to have removed inhibition.  I had to use every trick I had ever learned now - right now.  So I gazed at my younger brother, the king, with a well-practiced look of dreamy adoration.

The effort of this charade caused my jaw to clench so hard that it hurt my teeth.  The wine, which was usually sweet on my tongue, burned a path down my constricted throat and my heart beat like galloping hooves.   The pounding of it drowned out every word Ptahmose spoke.   Ptahmose said something that he himself found amusing so I tilted my head back and laughed at the joke I hadn’t even heard.  I set my wine goblet on the table and luxuriated against the couch cushions despite my next breath having to fight its way past my panicking heart until I felt like it would never come fast enough to keep me from fainting.  I smiled and twirled that ringlet of hair around my finger.

Ptahmose fell silent for a moment as he observed me from across the table.   I looked at him as if I could not wait to hear what fascinating antidote he would delight me with next.  My heart repeatedly flung itself against my ribs.  The sweat trickled down my spine.

He smiled, “I’m glad we have stopped quarreling these past few weeks, sister.  Now that I am a man myself I can finally appreciate why so many other men find your company so . . .  pleasant.”  He sipped his wine and his gaze drifted to my lips.

My stomach lurched and for a second I feared that I would vomit all over our carefully arranged meal.  Ptahmose had had his lock-shaving ceremony only two days ago but he was already strutting around the harem like a rutting stag, with that same hot look in his eyes that all the young men have when they are being led around by the contents of their loincloth.  And now he had turned that hungry look on me.   Surely he was only playing at it -with his own sister! as a way to stroke his overlarge ego.  Oh gods, what would I do if he tried to touch me?   I would likely lose all control and gouge out his vile eyes!

My breath quickened and Ptahmose took notice, though he obviously interpreted it the wrong way because his smile widened further.  “Tell me, Sister,” using the intimate form of the word that a husband would use, “do you find my company pleasant as well?  I assure you that many do.”  He leaned over the table and I had a moment of sheer panic as he reached out, but he simply plucked a grape off my plate and plopped it into his own mouth with a wink.

I gave a breathy laugh which I hoped disguised the sound that had involuntarily escaped my throat, but he seemed to be beyond suspicious thought now that his vanity was in full command.

I reached for a grape myself, “Brother, I would have to be blind not to notice how the women look at you now. “  I held his gaze while I slowly slid the grape between my lips.  It tasted like sand.

Ptahmose beamed and leaned back on his couch as if it were a throne, “Now now, Sister, jealously is unbecoming of a wife.  You have to understand that as the king I am entitled to the whole of the harem, and any other woman who strikes my fancy.”  He reached under his kilt and adjusted himself as if to emphasize what his ‘fancy’ really was, smiling the whole while.

A bead of sweat ran down my neck.  Gods, but this was taking too long!  I affected a coy pout, “Are you going to ignore this beautiful meal that I had prepared by our finest cooks just for you?  I hoped it would please you.  Especially the dates!  I made those myself, because I’m the only one who knows how you like them.”

His interest piqued, Ptahmose pulled the bowl of dates closer to himself.  “Ah!” he exclaimed happily, “Stuffed dates are indeed my favorite.”

He grabbed a handful and a prickly sweat sprang out across my forehead.  He leaned back again, relaxed, and tossed a stuffed date into his mouth, chewing it enthusiastically from behind a victorious grin.  Then a strange expression fell across his face, the grin slipped, and his chewing slowed down.   My breath caught and I began to tremble.

“Curious flavor,” he said.  Then he swallowed and inspected the other dates in his palm, “Garlic and something else I can’t quite place.  What did you put into these dates?”  He slid another one into his mouth and chewed carefully, obviously trying to discern what the other ingredient might be with his tongue.  “Perhaps basil, or-“

He focused on me again and his jaw froze in mid chew.  I had been so intent on him eating the dates that I only just then realized I was violently trembling and my eyes were wide open as I clutched the edge of my couch with white knuckles.  Ptahmose’s expression turned to horror.  He spat the rest of the chewed date onto the floor and flung the others across the room.  He then lurched across the table at me, screeching, “What did you put in the dates, you whore?!”

I screamed and flung myself away from him.  He caught my ankle and we both rolled to the floor as the table tipped under his weight.  I kicked at him and tried desperately to crawl away, but his grip was like a shackle and he soon had a hold of my other ankle as well.

Ptahmose bellowed wordlessly and drug me towards him through the spilled wine and the ruined meal.  He was quickly on top of me with his hands around my neck, his face crimson with rage.

I beat at him with my fists and clawed at him, but his grip tightened and his face grew even darker as his young features contorted hideously.  Pale, foaming spittle sprayed from between his bared and clenched teeth every time he exhaled.  His hands cinched around my neck and I could not draw in another breath.  I tried futilely to pull his fingers off my throat with the last of my waning strength.

Then a strange spasm rocked through Ptahmose’s body and I was suddenly able to pry his thumbs away from my throat.  I arched my back and managed to fling him off of me.  Clutching my bruised neck and gasping for air, I saw my brother jerk and quiver on the floor next to me.  His eyes rolled backwards and more of that vulgar foam bubbled from his gaping mouth.

That’s when I realized with great horror, and with great relief, that the poison was working.