The Cup-bearer

I closed my eyes as his steps echoed closer and closer: The clank of his golden-heeled shoes, the rotten-peach grin. I could feel his hands at my shoulders, at my sack-cloth shirt, pulling me up. I coughed, looking away. 

He handed me a cup of wine. If it was laced with poison, I would die. Usually this job is honored, but not sought after. Mine was neither of them. I was treated like dirt and forced to risk dying every week. 

I took a sip of the wine. Its bitter sweetness stung my tongue and burnt down my throat. The King watched anxiously.

My eyesight blurred slightly. Everything slowed down, then sped up. I heard an angry roar as I fell to the ground. 

I closed my eyes as he held my face in his hands. 

"Toby.... I never told you.... you're my son..."

His face disappeared in shards of gold and red as I fell into oblivion.