Chapter Ten: The Banquet of Lies
Chorus:
Ah, the royal banquet—a glittering stage where masks are worn thicker than crowns, and every smile hides a dagger. Tonight, Thebes's elite gather to feast, to scheme, and to pretend that all is well. But beneath the chandeliers and clinking goblets, the rot spreads, and The F*** It All is about to crash the party.
The grand hall of the palace is ablaze with light. Crystal chandeliers hang like frozen stars, casting kaleidoscopes across marble floors polished to a mirror shine. Long tables groan under the weight of exotic dishes—roasted boar, spiced figs, honeyed wine. Nobles in embroidered silks and jeweled collars chatter in hushed tones, their laughter brittle, their eyes darting.
At the head table sits King Laius, his posture regal but his eyes sharp and calculating. Beside him, Queen Jocasta wears a mask of composed grace, though the tension in her jaw betrays her unease.
The F*** It All and Echo stand at the edge of the hall, cloaked in shadows, watching, waiting.
Chorus:
The king's court is a theater of lies,
Where truth is the rarest delicacy on the menu.
Laius raises his goblet, voice booming.
Laius:
To Thebes!
May our city prosper, our enemies falter, and our secrets remain buried.
The nobles raise their cups, but the smiles are thin, the toasts hollow.
The F*** It All (whispering to Echo):
Watch their faces.
They're afraid.
Echo:
Afraid of what's coming.
The sisters move through the crowd, unnoticed but alert. They overhear snippets of conversation—whispers of rebellion, rumors of the daughter who won't be tamed.
Noble One (to Noble Two):
Have you heard?
The king's daughter is stirring trouble again.
Noble Two (snickering):
A madwoman playing at revolution.
She'll be dealt with soon enough.
The F*** It All smiles, a flicker of fire in her eyes.
The F*** It All:
Let them think that.
It makes their downfall sweeter.
Suddenly, the hall hushes as a herald steps forward, unrolling a scroll.
Herald:
By royal decree, any who aid or harbor the traitor daughter shall be punished by exile or worse.
Gasps ripple through the crowd. Some faces pale; others harden.
Laius (smirking):
Let the loyal stand proud.
The disloyal will find no refuge here.
The F*** It All's gaze locks on her father, cold and unyielding.
The F*** It All (to Echo):
It's time.
She steps forward, voice ringing clear.
The F*** It All:
If loyalty means silence in the face of lies,
Then I am disloyal.
The hall erupts in shocked murmurs. Guards move to intercept, but Jocasta rises, placing a hand on Laius's arm.
Jocasta:
Enough.
She turns to the crowd.
Jocasta:
The city is fractured, yes.
But it is still ours.
Let us speak truth, not threats.
The nobles exchange uneasy glances. The tension thickens.
The F*** It All:
The truth is this:
The king's power rests on fear and deception.
But fear is a fragile foundation.
She steps onto a table, raising her voice.
The F*** It All:
We are not shadows to be controlled.
We are the light that will burn away the darkness.
The crowd stirs, some cheering, others jeering.
Laius's face darkens. He slams his goblet down.
Laius:
Guards! Remove her!
Echo moves swiftly, pulling The F*** It All back into the crowd. Chaos erupts—tables overturned, voices shouting, the clash of steel on stone.
Chorus:
The banquet becomes a battlefield,
Where words are weapons and courage is a shield.
Jocasta stays behind, standing between her husband and the crowd, her voice steady.
Jocasta:
Stop this madness!
We must find a way to heal, not destroy.
The F*** It All and Echo slip through a side door, hearts pounding.
Echo:
That was close.
The F*** It All:
Too close.
Outside, the city air is sharp and cold. The sisters catch their breath, eyes scanning the night.
The F*** It All:
The king's grip is slipping.
But he won't go quietly.
Echo:
Then neither will we.
Chorus:
The banquet of lies has ended in fire and fury.
The old order trembles,
And the city waits for the next act.
The night is alive with possibility and peril.
Thebes is changing—
And The F*** It All is the spark lighting the way.