At a palace in Alexandria, early that morning, a man dropped off a basket of figs. “For the Queen,” he commended, with a deep bow, before he left.
* * *
She hurries up the flights of stairs, in fear. Her breath catches in her throat. It is dark and she cries out. Her maids run after her, torches in hand, but she cannot stop to wait for them. There is no time. Tears stream down her face as she hurries, panting. She must get away from him. Her dark wig makes the heat unbearable and she tugs it off, flinging it down to the maids following her, her people.
Her people. She traded in her dignity for them and where has that lead her? This is not their fault, she disputes. It is mine, to have fallen for that brute of a man. The tears that fall from her eyes are those of anger, sorrow, regret and passion. Yes, there had always been passion.
She closes her eyes tight for a moment and stops.
* * *
His body heaved upon hers and he groaned in pleasure. She moved with him, their bodies’ rhythm completely in tune with one another’s. As her eyes bore into his, she knew: she hated and loved him.
He was a strong, powerful man. He would make a good leader. She smiled and, from between her teeth, hissed.
* * *
“Mistress, please hurry!” she hears from behind her. The two of them have caught up. She breathes deeply and continues to climb until she reaches the sought after landing.
“Down the hall, hurry!”
She does as requested. They only fear for her safety.
The wall’s beautiful mosaic seems to mock her panic-stricken look. The air is too sweet.
She looks down from the palace and sees no one below. Everyone is asleep and blissfully unaware: unaware of her danger. This is Alexandria, her home, and at one point, all she had known. She lets out a sigh, allowing herself to break the drowsy silence. She wants to scream, to wake everyone. The ground seems impossibly far down. She wants to jump. She looks out at the ocean, the slumbering ships in the harbor which rocked gently to and fro. She would like to plummet into that water, allow it to swallow her, and sink below the ships.
Her maids stare at her in fright; one of them comes toward her and wipes away the kohl that has run from the tears. “Mistress,” the other hisses.
“I know,” she replies and turns to her chamber’s door.
The two of them push it open. She hurries inside and watches as her maids’ barricade it. One begins to speak, “You are safe now.”
The other cuts into her speech, “You should forge—perhaps—a suicide note. Surely he would do it if you proposed to wait for him in the afterlife. He can’t be trusted while he lives. We must write him one. He’ll kill you, Mistress.”
It brings tears to the Queen’s eyes. Still, she nods in agreement.
* * *
Awake. Her lids slid back, the warm air rousing her. She saw, as the sunlight revealed him to her, his soft brown eyes gazing at her limp form on the bed. A smile casually smoothing his lips, but as she lazily returned it, he quickly turned away.
The children filtered into the room and began to pester him. “Leave your father alone,” she murmured, her eyes closing again.
“That’s all right,” his warm voice resonated. And it was then she knew she loved him.
* * *
She sucks in the air, it sweetness turning bitter in her mouth, as she reaches for the papyrus and cringes. “You will write it. I will sign it.”
The two imminently set to work, fussing over the contents.
She weeps on the bed, in the center of the room.
When it is finished she signs her name clearly and blindly. She is signing over his life. She looks away after it is done, not wishing to read the thing, not wishing to read her own falsified suicide note.
“It will do,” one of them says.
She sits up and looks around the room for comfort but only notices a swirl of color before she collapses back on the bed. “Bring my pipe,” she asks, closing her eyes and wiping at the kohl, smudging it further. She notices the weight of it as it is handed it to her. She inhales and feels calm wash over her. The room’s colors begin to grow dull, soft, and pleasant. The air allocates a soft breeze. With one hand, she ruffles her short hair.
* * *
His boat was before hers, protecting her. But as Octavius’* ships came into sight, she felt nervousness build within her.
“My pipe,” she demanded and waited until it was given to her. She closed her eyes and sucked on it a moment, holding in that singular, relaxing breath before releasing it and looking to the sky. Nothing to worry about, she reassured herself. But her puff of smoke wound its way into her sight.
On the clear, blue backdrop it transformed into a shape, drifting in the breezed to make a skull: an omen. A shudder darted down her spine. In a cold voice, she ordered to everyone that they must retreat. Her ship began to wind its way around, heading back to Alexandria. Behind her she could hear his voice calling after her. She did not know he would follow her; she had only hoped he would.
* * *
From below there is a noise. She sticks her head out of her chamber’s window. “What is it?”
His wail reaches her ears, “I’m dying. Let me see her body, once more. Let me say farewell.”
She lets out a loud cry, like a banshee. “Oh love, I am that body. But I am not yet dead. I have betrayed you twice over.”
“It does not matter. I am too close to death to do you any harm. I must come up, my love.”
She nods and looks around her room. She grabs the sheets from her bed as a maid helps her to knot them together and toss them down. She forces herself to listen as, with every strained pull toward her, death grunts closer to the man she loves. When he is up she turns away from the blood soaked sheet-rope and from the hopeful stars.
He collapses onto her bed and she collapses onto his breast, despite the strong smell of death, sweat, vomit and wine that clings to him. “Some wine,” he calls, his voice already drenched in the substance, and the maid bustles off. She wraps his limp, muscular arms around her, embracing his scent and his feverish heat.
She allows the heat to rise within her but orders the moon’s light be banished from her. As the window’s curtain is drawn, she embraces the darkness and its pervasive feeling. The maid returns with a cup of wine for him and a basket of figs. He gulps the wine down with a deep thirst and she reaches for a fig. She retrieves one. But from within the basket two yellow eyes glow in the darkness, staring at her.
* * *
She had agreed, she remembered, to meet this new Caesar, to hear his proposal. Octavius, he had called this Caesar. He had called him a coward of a man. She agreed with him, the man was different, certainly not a great ruler by nature and no Alexander.
“We have an understanding?” Octavius’ eyes were much too cold and empty and his voice was hollow.
She nodded and moved her lips, but no words came. Betrayal created a lump in her throat. I agree to play this man’s political pawn, while it is this man, who has caused the ruin of my husband, she thought, but she kept herself calm.
Like Octavius’ words, the man’s hand on her shoulder caused a sickness to rise within her, revealed only by a small shudder.
* * *
Gazing into those snake’s eyes, she realizes, “You were right, my love. It was I who betrayed you. If only I had protected you from me. If only I had not deserted you at the battle. If only you had been able to make me stronger. I played the queen but was the coward.”
And she knows those eyes belong to an asp*. “But in death I will become the Queen.” She grabs the asp’s long black form and squeezes. Its eyes blink. She feels its fangs pierce her wrist. She lets out a sigh and this time it raises the volume of the room.
Gasps, accompanied by a hum of voices, seems to surround her.
“Shush,” she commands. Antony’s body is cold but she pulls him closer. “The crown,” she croaks between gasps. And as Cleopatra’s crown is placed on her head, she takes her last breath.
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*Octavius: part of the Second Triumverate, which at this point in time was ruling Rome. Antony and Lepidus were also part of this Triumverate but were ruling other parts of the Roman Empire.
*an asp: a snake, more specifically (and also known as) an Egyptian Cobra.
) I'm assuming that if I knew about her, it would explain why it sounded like she wasn't going to kill herself, and then did so anyway. Without any background knowledge, that part's a little confusing.
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