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For what ever reason, you have decided to accept the prince's offer and join him for breakfast. There are many options to choose from. Maybe you want to show him that you trust him. Maybe you just want to know where he got the drug, or maybe you just WANT to be poisoned. Either way, all roads end with taking something off the table and putting it into your mouth.
Since you were an orphan, you started almost every single breakfast in your life with a bowl of oats. No matter where life takes you, a bowl of oats reminds you were you are from. Today you have decided to make up for it by holding nothing back, and eating a lions share. Guarding the prince takes a lot of energy, as does constantly being on edge.
"Leave us" the prince would instruct the hand maiden. "But my prince" she would argue in turn, "I have not yet finished your hair". Annoyed, he would snap back "Ill finish it myself, now go. Don't come back until you are called."
While you have your way with the breakfast plate, the prince has been watching you and smiling. Sometimes he will look out his window, and leave his teacup unattended. Which is odd, since that's not the way the prince handles his tea. He always simply holds it on a little plate in his hands, he doesn't set it down. It may sound odd, but you have spent many days simply watching him drink tea. A Kingsmen is trained to notice such things.
"My prince, I noticed you are not eating"
"I am having a choice biscuit with my tea, and that is enough for me. I am surprised to see you put away so much… You eat enough for a horse. I should have ordered more... Or maybe less?"
Odd thing to say.
"My prince, you said you would reveal the secret of how you drugged the handmaiden over breakfast. Do you still intend to divulge that information?"
"I suppose enough time has passed… And I do keep my promises. Mostly. Its simple, I extracted the venom from my spider. I already explained to you its paralyzing bite didn't I? Mother showed me how to do it, and I took the opportunity to give it a try."
That damn spider, of course. You wonder just how many times this spider has now caused you grief. And to think, he got that damn thing on your suggestion. Perhaps its time for that insect to reach an untimely end.
"My prince, do you not understand how dasasnge…"
What was that? You tongue just sort of gave out on you for a moment. "My prince," you repeat "I thisksnadas"
You look at your hands, and they are heavy. Your arms are having trouble holding them up. To make matters worse, there is a tingeing sensation in your ligaments where motor control should be. Oh no, you have absolutely been poisoned. You try to stand, but the prince pushes you back into the seat.
