Advanced chapters on my P@treon.com/Saintbarbido.
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-Iphicles' P.O.V-
The air in the banquet hall feels suffocating as the weight of betrayal presses against my chest.
The laughter of Herakles grates on my nerves, a mockery of everything we've been through.
I struggle with disbelief, the need for truth occupying my every thought.
Fists clenched at the sides, nails biting into my palms, I step toward him.
"You?" My voice cuts through the room, sharp and bitter. "You of all people? My own brother would conspire against me?"
Heracles shrugs with a lazy smirk, the picture of arrogance. "It's not conspiracy, brother. It's the will of the gods. Perhaps you should accept your fate rather than fight it."
"Fate?" I spit the word out as though it's poison. "Is that what you're calling it now? The gods seem to favor men who prefer taverns over thrones. How convenient for you."
Before Heracles can reply, the Priest of Athena steps forward, his golden robes gleaming in the torchlight. "Careful, Prince Iphicles. You speak out of turn. The voice of Zeus himself spoke through the Oracle. Heracles is the chosen one, destined to lead."
I glare at the priest, my anger bubbling over.
"Destined?" I roar, sweeping my arm toward the crowd. "What of the rest of you? Are you all so quick to bow to the idea of fate just because Heracles can punch a hole through a wall?"
The hall falls silent. My mother, seated next to the king, rises with a trembling hand. "Iphicles, please, calm yourself. This isn't Heracles' fault."
My gaze snaps to her, years of frustration pouring out. "Why, Mother? Why have you never spoken up for me? Why have you allowed him to overshadow me, even when I deserved better? Am I not your son as well?!"
Her voice falters, but before she can answer, my father slams a fist onto the table.
"Enough!" His voice rings through the hall, silencing the murmurs.
"Iphicles, your defiance is an insult to the gods. Do you mean to tell us you would stand against their will?"
I look to Chiron, standing in the corner. His eyes plead with me to keep my temper, but I've had enough.
"Perhaps I would," I say, my voice trembling but unwavering. "If this is their will, then maybe the gods are wrong."
Gasps echo through the hall like a thunderclap. The Priest of Athena recoils, his face twisting in outrage.
"Blasphemy!" he cries. "Seize him!"
Before I can react, soldiers surge forward, yanking me to my knees. I feel the cold bite of steel at my neck, but I lift my head defiantly.
"Do your worst," I hiss, staring at the priest. "Prove to everyone here that you're nothing but cowards, hiding behind divine proclamations and glory you've never earned."
"Enough!" Chiron's voice booms, cutting through the tension. The soldiers hesitate, and the centaur steps forward, his presence commanding the room.
"King Amphitryon," Chiron says, bowing his head slightly. "You are a wise man, and I trust you will see reason. Let me remind you, the gods do not need mortals to defend their honor. Assuming otherwise is the true insult."
The King of Mycenae growls from the royal table, but Chiron continues, addressing father. "And while your devotion to the gods is commendable, your majesty, there is one thing we have yet to hear."
The king narrows his eyes. "And what would that be?"
"The prophecy itself," Chiron says, turning to the Priest. "Let us hear the Oracle speak the words of Zeus so there is no doubt of its meaning."
Murmurs ripple through the hall, and my father hesitates, stroking his beard. Finally, he nods. "Let the Oracle speak."
The Priest of Athena scowls but steps aside, revealing the veiled figure of Tiresias, the Oracle of the Gods.
The room holds its breath as the seer steps forward, her voice hollow and otherworldly.
"Two sons of Royal flesh, one twin born of divine blood, one mortal. One will fall to madness, bringing ruin to the kingdom. The other shall rise, a champion of Olympus, tested by twelve labors to reclaim his throne and lead Mycenae to prosperity."
The words hang heavy in the air. Chiron frowns, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"Well?" the priest sneers. "The prophecy is clear. Heracles is the champion, and Iphicles the harbinger of ruin."
Chiron's gaze sharpens, and he steps forward again. "You presume much, Priest. The prophecy states one brother will face twelve labors. Has Heracles completed these tasks? No? Then it is premature to claim his destiny."
The priest bristles but falls silent under the weight of Chiron's logic.
King Amphitryon exhales heavily. "Prophecy or not, Iphicles' defiance cannot go unpunished. But I do owe him a boon. He saved my life, and debts must be repaid, or the goddess Dike herself will demand balance."
The hall erupts in whispers, and father raises his hand for silence. "Iphicles, you will be stripped of your royal lineage and banished from the palace. Your life is spared, but you are no longer my son."
A wave of dejection crashes over me. I stare at the floor, my heart a whirlwind of pain and anger.
He cast me out...if so, I rebuke him as well. He's no longer my father.
"Get up, my prince." Chiron's voice cuts through my despair, calm and unyielding. "A king never bows or kneels before anyone."
I meet his eyes, and something within me stirs—pride, determination, and the faintest spark of hope.
As I stand, the weight of my new reality settles over me. I am no longer Prince Iphicles of Tyrnis.
"Bold, as the tales say," The King of Mycenae sneers at Chiron, his voice dripping with mockery. "But if you were in my court, Centaur, for your insolence, your hide would be stripped clean and sewn into a robe fit for a king."
The court murmurs, a mix of amusement and unease. My hands curl into fists at my sides, anger simmering low in my chest.
Chiron, though, doesn't flinch. Instead, he grins—a slow, deliberate baring of teeth.
"And then," Chiron says, his voice calm but cutting, "you'd be known as the King of Fleas, scratching your arse before your court because my hide would have you itching for eternity."
The room freezes.