Chapter Eleven: The Mask Slips
Chorus:
Masks are the true currency of Thebes. Some are painted in gold, others in fear, but all are worn until the sweat of truth makes them slip. Tonight, beneath the shattered remnants of the king's banquet, the city's masks begin to fall—and the faces beneath are not what anyone expected.
The palace is a hive of frantic energy. Servants rush to clean the chaos left by the disrupted feast: overturned tables, goblets rolling across marble, a tapestry torn in the scuffle. The scent of spilled wine and fear lingers in the air.
In a dim corridor, Laius storms away from the hall, his cloak billowing, his face a thundercloud. Jocasta follows, her steps measured but her eyes burning with something new—resolve, or perhaps the last flicker of hope.
Laius (spitting):
You humiliated me!
In front of the court, in front of the city!
Jocasta:
You humiliated yourself.
You let your fear speak louder than your reason.
Laius rounds on her, voice trembling.
Laius:
She's destroying everything.
My city, my legacy, my name.
Jocasta:
Maybe it's time your name changed.
He recoils as if struck, then storms off, leaving Jocasta alone in the corridor. She leans against the wall, breath shaky.
Chorus:
The king's mask cracks,
And the queen's slips gently to the floor.
Elsewhere, The F*** It All and Echo dart through hidden passages, their laughter echoing in the dark.
Echo (catching her breath):
Did you see their faces?
Like someone set fire to their wigs.
The F*** It All (grinning):
Fear is a wonderful teacher.
But tonight, I think they learned something else—
That the story isn't theirs to write anymore.
They emerge in a forgotten wing of the palace, dust motes swirling in the moonlight. Here, the walls are lined with ancient portraits—kings and queens with painted eyes that seem to follow every move.
The F*** It All pauses before a portrait of Laius, younger and proud.
The F*** It All:
He always said the past was a mirror.
But he never liked what he saw.
Echo:
What do you see?
The F*** It All:
A man so afraid of losing power,
He never learned how to use it.
Echo:
And you?
The F*** It All:
A woman who knows that power is just another mask.
Chorus:
In the gallery of ghosts,
The living learn from the dead.
Suddenly, footsteps approach. Echo pulls her sister into a shadowed alcove as a pair of guards pass, muttering.
Guard One:
The king's losing it.
First the daughter, now the queen—
Guard Two:
If you ask me, it's about time someone stood up to him.
The guards disappear into the gloom. The sisters exchange a look—surprise, then a shared, silent hope.
Scene shift: Laius's private chamber. He paces, hands shaking, eyes wild. He tears open a hidden drawer, pulling out a bundle of letters—old threats, secret bargains, confessions never sent.
Laius (to himself):
They think me weak.
They think me finished.
He reads a letter, his own handwriting curling across the page.
Laius (reading):
"To rule is to be alone. To be feared is to be safe."
He crumples the letter, voice breaking.
Laius:
But I am alone.
And fear has brought me nothing but shadows.
Chorus:
The king's mask slips,
And beneath it is only a frightened man.
A knock at the door. Jocasta enters, her face set.
Jocasta:
We need to talk.
Laius:
There's nothing left to say.
Jocasta:
Then listen.
She sits, folding her hands in her lap.
Jocasta:
You built this palace on secrets and silence.
But the walls are thin, Laius.
The truth is leaking through the cracks.
Laius:
What do you want from me?
Jocasta:
I want you to see what you've become.
I want you to remember the man you were—
Before the crown, before the fear.
Laius looks away, jaw clenched.
Jocasta:
If you keep fighting shadows,
You'll lose everything that matters.
Laius:
I've already lost it.
Chorus:
A king defeated not by sword or spell,
But by his own reflection.
Scene shift: The palace kitchens. The F*** It All and Echo share a stolen loaf of bread, sitting on sacks of flour.
Echo:
What now?
The F*** It All:
Now we show them what happens when the masks come off.
We tell the truth—loud, clear, and undeniable.
Echo:
Even if it hurts?
The F*** It All:
Especially if it hurts.
Chorus:
The daughters prepare for the reckoning.
The queen finds her courage.
The king faces his ghosts.
Scene shift: The city square, midnight. The Chorus gathers the people, torches blazing, voices rising.
Chorus (singing):
Masks off, Thebes!
Let faces be seen,
Let truth be spoken,
Let old wounds bleed clean.
The crowd listens, spellbound. The F*** It All steps forward, Echo at her side.
The F*** It All:
The king's mask has slipped.
Now it's time for Thebes to choose—
Fear, or freedom.
The people murmur, the tide turning.
Chorus:
In the end, every mask must fall.
And what's left is the face of change.
The palace looms in the distance, windows glowing like watchful eyes. Inside, Laius sits alone, the crown heavy in his hands, the mask finally shattered.
Chorus (closing):
Tonight, the masks slip,
And Thebes sees itself—
Broken, beautiful, and ready for something new.