Chapter Text
Peter hasn’t eaten anything yet. That doesn’t stop him from emptying his stomach mere moments before he’s supposed to enter the grand hall.
“I’m sorry, I can, uh- ohh…” Peter mutters as his stomach churns and his head pounds. He’s crouching over some fancy plant, clutching the edges of the pot with shaking hands. His first day on the job and the other royal servants are already looking down on him pityingly. Peter shrinks under their stares.
Peter struggles to his feet, brushing some dust off of his pants before joining the other royal servants who are carrying various covered silver trays. Guards swing the double doors open and the procession walks in, Peter bringing up the rear. It’s a small group at this time of day, only three plates of food being brought in for breakfast. Peter wonders what’s under those covers. He’s sure the food for the Prince is fancier than anything he’s ever had.
This hall is absolutely massive and ornate, but Peter knows it’s not even the largest. This one is set up for meetings with important politicians and wealthy people or for meetings with royal advisors. Peter was briefed before entering, told it was a meeting between the Prince and a bunch of the military’s generals, strategists and the royal guard. He is not to speak, meant to take the first bite of everything on the Prince’s plate, wait for a while to see if he keels over, then he’s to leave.
A large table stretches most of the length of the room, but very few seats are filled, at the far end of the table. There are maybe a dozen people, all in fancy uniforms that are mostly the colours of the royal guards or high ranking officials. At the head of the table sits the Prince.
Peter’s gaze is immediately drawn to them because they’re the reason he’s here. He’s seen them before, mostly from balconies while giving speeches or accompanying the previous king. Typically during the recent frequent public appearances they’ve made while preparing for their upcoming coronation, Prince Rumi has been wearing fancy clothing like long, flowy coats and capes with colourful, intricate patterns and abundant jewelry. Today, however, they’re wearing clothing that’s still expensive looking, but it’s more casual than usual.
They’re wearing a deep navy blue blouse speckled with golden, embroidered stars. Their white hair is held partly up and pulled back past their crystalline, iridescent horns. They have golden earrings, necklaces and bracelets and Peter can just barely see a pair of strangely shaped black boots with golden details. They look regal, nodding along to what one of the others at the table are saying.
Peter feels his stomach churn again and a shiver runs up his spine as he approaches. The Prince thanks the other servants as they place the trays of food in front of them, uncovering them and bowing quickly before leaving again. Peter hesitates when he feels the Prince’s personal guard watching him.
Thanatos. A terrifying warforged with dark plate armour and a horned helmet, a dark blue cloak flowing from his shoulders. His eyes glow blue, watching and scrutinizing Peter as he makes his way beside Prince Rumi. Peter has briefly met Thanatos, as he’s pretty sure all of the castle staff have done at some point. He was judging him to make sure he was no threat to the Prince and Peter was deemed not to be a significant risk.
Peter gets a look at the food now. On one tray, pancakes smothered in syrup and fresh strawberries. On another, bacon and eggs, sunny side up. On the last is a teapot and an empty teacup with a small bowl of sugar and cup of milk. The plates, teapot, cups and cutlery are all made of silver, engraved with intricate designs of vines and flowers. Everything looks delicious, better than anything Peter has ever eaten.
He looks to the Prince and finds that they’re smiling at him. Peter jumps when they start speaking directly to him. “You must be the new royal food taster. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Prince Rumi, but you may just call me Rumi. And what is your name?”
Peter feels tears well up in his eyes and he sniffles. The anxiety and the shock of being asked for his name by the Prince of all people is overwhelming and he wipes the tears away, trying to compose himself. “Nobody’s ever asked me that before,” Peter says and sniffles again. He realizes he was ordered not to speak, but he supposes that the Prince themself asking him a question probably supersedes anyone else’s orders. “I’m Peter. Peter Sqloint.”
A few people at the table laugh, but Prince Rumi still has a bright, kind expression on their face. One of the people sitting nearby leans towards the others conspiratorially, blocking his mouth from Peter’s view but still saying loud enough to be heard by everyone, “They really picked an expendable one, didn’t they?”
Nervously, Peter glances between the man who just spoke and the food. “It’s alright, Peter. You’re doing a very noble job that many people are too scared to take on. That takes a lot of courage, don’t you agree, Elotl?” Prince Rumi says reassuringly, casting a sharp look at the man who called Peter expendable.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Elotl says quickly, ceasing a conversation filled with snickering with the person next to him.
“Wonderful. Now, there’s nothing to worry about Peter, no harm has befallen many people before you. I am sure that you taking this position is a relief to many others, we had other staff volunteering for individual meals for a while before you stepped in, so I would like to thank you on their behalf as well. Shall we start with the pancakes? I see you looking at the strawberries and they do look wonderful.”
Peter nods and focuses on the pancakes. He takes the cutlery and hesitates, looking at the Prince for permission. They nod encouragingly and Peter cuts a small sliver off of the pancakes. He debates taking a strawberry, not wanting to eat too much of the Prince’s food, but he reminds himself that he needs to eat enough to check for poison. He stabs a strawberry on his fork alongside the pancake and lifts it up.
Everybody is watching him intently and he feels like he’s going to throw up again or pass out. The conversation at the table has ceased for now, some people looking on with boredom, waiting for Peter to hurry up, while others, Elotl included, are curious and waiting to see if Peter’s throat is going to close up. Prince Rumi’s expression is still reassuring.
Peter eats what’s on his fork, trying his best to swallow it down as quickly as possible so he doesn’t struggle to force it down once he’s chewed it more thoroughly. The short time it’s on his tongue is enough to taste it. The pancakes are the fluffiest he’s ever had and they almost melt on his tongue while the strawberries are incredibly fresh and sweet. His eyes widen at the taste, part of him wanting another bite, but he knows that’s all he gets.
“What do you think?” Prince Rumi asks.
“Very good,” Peter says, surprised by just how good it was. His stomach is churning again, knowing that there’s a non-zero chance he just ate poison. Pancakes and fresh strawberries isn’t the worst way to go, he supposes, but that thought doesn’t stop his panic.
“I’m glad you enjoy it. How about some tea now? I believe it should be chamomile.”
“Ok,” Peter says quietly. Tea, bacon and eggs. His job isn’t done yet, the pancakes were only the first thing.
“You’re doing amazing, Peter,” Prince Rumi says. They smile at him once again, but then their brows furrow slightly. “Are you feeling alright? You look quite pale.”
“Y-yeah, I’m ok,” Peter says, grabbing the teapot to pour a cup and get this over with more quickly.
“Are you sure? You’re shaking Peter, if you’re not alright then you do not need to continue.” The others around the table have very mixed reactions. Elotl continues to watch in curiosity while most of the others have faces of concern or shock. Most are murmuring to each other, which makes Peter want to curl up in a ball in a corner. He continues to pour the tea, nearly spilling as he adds a small amount of sugar and milk to the teacup.
He takes a sip of the tea and feels more tears welling up in his eyes as he sets it down. He doesn’t feel very good. He’s pretty sure it’s not because of the food, but he knows for certain that he’s not cut out for this kind of job.
The Prince stands and puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Peter, I need you to look at me, ok?” Peter does, albeit shrinking under their gaze and wiping away tears as he fights back sobs. “What’s wrong?”
Peter just shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry…” he says.
“It’s alright, there’s no need to apologize. Do you feel sick?”
Peter nods hesitantly. “I’m- I’m scared.”
“It’s alright to be scared but you have to tell me what’s wrong so I can help you. Was there something in the food?”
“I don’t-” Peter sobs. “I don’t think so.”
Prince Rumi puts their other hand on Peter’s other shoulder. It’s a small relief, they’re blocking Peter’s view of the rest of the table. The food and the people being out of sight helps him take a moment to steady himself, his stomach settling a bit and tears not flowing as freely. “Thanatos, please send for a medic for Peter just in case. Hopefully this is just nerves, but I would much rather have somebody check him over to be sure.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Thanatos says, then orders another guard to run off and fetch a medic.
“Are you feeling any better or worse?” Prince Rumi asks.
Peter nods, murmuring “better.” He wipes away a tear, thinking it’s the last one and that he’s managed to compose himself, but then thinking of his composure triggers him to lose it again and resume crying.
The food remains untouched until well after the medic arrives and has checked over Peter. Everything seems to be alright, no signs of poisoning to be found, but the trays of food are brought away anyway.
Peter feels eyes on him as he leaves the room. He failed to do his job, even if the food wasn’t poisoned and he’s feeling mostly alright. Elotl says something he can’t quite hear and the others at the table laugh, Peter shrinking in on himself and the doors to the grand hall shut, leaving him in the hallway alone.