Chapter Text
— prelude ;
Long ago, before the world grew tired and heavy with history, there lived a proud king of Thebes named Laius, and his clever queen, Jocasta. They possessed everything a mortal heart could desire, yet their grand stone halls felt empty, echoing with the quiet longing for a child.
In their desperation, the king journeyed to the misty slopes of Mount Parnassus, seeking the Oracle of Delphi—a priestess who could peer through the veil of tomorrow. But the future she pulled from the shadows was not a blessing; it was a curse that chilled the king to his bones.
"If a son is born to you," the Oracle whispered, her voice like wind through dry leaves, "he is fated to become your ruin. He will take your life with his own hands, and steal your crown, and marry your queen."
Horrified, the king fled back to his palace. When Jocasta gave birth to a beautiful baby boy shortly after, there was no rejoicing. Wrapped in the cold shroud of fear, the king decided he must outsmart the cosmos. He pierced the infant's ankles with a golden pin to prevent him from crawling, and commanded a servant to carry the babe deep into the wild forests of Mount Cithaeron, to leave him there to be swallowed by the night.
The king drew a deep breath, believing he had severed the threads of destiny. He thought he had saved his life, his wife, and his kingdom.
But fate is an architect that builds its traps using the very blocks we use to run away.
The servant, moved by the soft weeping of the child, could not bear to leave him to the wolves. Instead, he gave the baby to a wandering shepherd, who carried the boy over the mountains to the kingdom of Corinth. There, the childless King and Queen of Corinth took him in. They named him Oedipus—meaning "swollen foot"—and raised him as their own prince, enveloping him in love.
Oedipus grew up tall, sharp-tongued, and fiercely brave. But when he reached young manhood, a cruel rumor whispered through the court that he was not his parents' true blood. To seek the truth, Oedipus made his own journey to the very same Oracle at Delphi.
The priestess refused to tell him his past, but instead unleashed the same terrible prophecy: "You shall slay your father, and wed your mother."
Sick with horror, Oedipus looked back toward Corinth. He loved his parents above all else. To protect them, to save them from this monstrous fate, he swore he would never return. He turned his back on his home and walked blindly into the wilderness, choosing exile to ensure their safety. He believed he was taking control of his own life.
As the sun began to set, Oedipus reached a lonely place where three roads met. At that exact moment, an old man riding in a grand chariot approached from the opposite direction. Arrogant and impatient, the old man's guards ordered the young prince off the path, and when Oedipus refused to bow, the old man struck him across the head.
In a flash of youthful fury and sharp pride, Oedipus fought back. He did not know his own strength, nor did he know the dark magic of the cosmos. Within moments, the guards and the old man lay dead in the dust. Oedipus wiped the blood from his brow, dismissed the skirmish as a foolish mistake of the road, and continued on his way.
He did not know that the old man was King Laius. He did not know he had just fulfilled the first half of the curse.
Eventually, Oedipus arrived at the gates of Thebes, a city mourning its murdered king and terrorized by the Sphinx—a monstrous beast who devoured anyone unable to solve her riddle. With his sharp mind, Oedipus stepped forward and answered her riddle flawlessly. The defeated monster cast herself from the cliffs, and the city wept with joy.
To reward the stranger who had saved them, the people of Thebes crowned Oedipus their new king. And, as was the custom of the ancient world, they gave him the hand of the widowed queen, Jocasta, in marriage.
For many years, Oedipus ruled wisely and happily, believing he had successfully outrun his dark destiny. He thought he was a hero who had escaped a curse.
Only at the very end, when a terrible plague struck the city, did the agonizing truth unspool. The tragedy he had spent his entire youth trying to prevent was not something waiting for him in the future. It was already behind him. His desperate flight from Corinth was the exact clockwork that placed him at the crossroads at the exact hour his father was passing by. His heroic rescue of Thebes was the exact key that opened the door to his mother's bedchamber.
Every choice he made to save the people he loved was simply the final puzzle piece fitting into place. He never made a mistake. He simply played the part that fate had written for him, executing the script perfectly by the very act of trying to rewrite it.
And that would be the same trap Orelia would fall into.