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Chapter Text

September, 2009

For one glorious Fall, everything was perfect.

The war was over. The ominous storm that had hung over their skies for years had cleared. Two demigods had arrived from the Wolf House, the first for some time. A new generation – ones who hadn’t had to see the death. Hadn’t had to bury their friends.

Octavian rubbed the top of a stuffed horse’s head. He had named it Elantia. Though he would never admit it. The feel of the fake fur calmed him.

What didn’t calmed him was the words written on the altar, crafted from the stuffing of another sacrifice: Pluto’s children arrive soon.

Children. Plural. Could it be them? But how?

Apollo had told him that one of them was fated to die and he made it sound like it would soon. And that had been years ago.

He sighed and decided it would better to tell Reyna and Jason the news. Reyna would want to know, and Jason would want to think about it.

He just hoped they weren’t both at the principia.

Unfortunately, as he attempted into the main office, he heard both their voices. He sighed. He did not want to deal with their awkwardness. He had seen enough to last a lifetime. She didn’t even love him, even Octavian could tell that. But apparently Reyna had decided that if she was going to have a partner, it would be her fellow praetor. Which was frankly ridiculous, but he had learned long ago not to comment on Reyna’s love life.

Instead, he had been forced to sit through countless hours of her attempting to flirt. It turned out she was almost worse at it than he was – which would have been amusing if he didn’t feel the desperate desire to take notes. That small, extremely annoying part of him that had suddenly, spuriously decided during the battle on Mt Tamalpais that Jason ought to be more than a friend wanted to keep a track of where Reyna failed.

Octavian crushed the thought. He didn’t do romance. Ever.

He pushed open to door into their private dining room. It was a lot smaller than the mess hall, of course, but it had the benefit of being private. Jason turned, offering that ridiculously beautiful smile that reminded Octavian that the world wasn’t about to end. And if it did, that might not have been so bad.

He looked away, too much positively would probably make him sick. He turned to Reyna instead.

She raised an eyebrow.

“News,” he said. “We’re to except some children of Pluto.”

“Children?” Reyna asked. “Plural?”

Octavian thoughts exactly. He nodded.

“Are we to expect a fight?”

“No idea.”

Reyna looked over at Jason. “What do you think?”

“If they were going to be enemies, normally Tavi would know. So I say we trust them.”

Reyna didn’t agree immediately, but Octavian nodded, “Seconded.”

Reyna looked over at him, “These aren’t the same children of Pluto you spent us on a wild goose chase to Maine for, are they?”

“How would I know? And they were there.”

“Except they weren’t.”

“Except we were late.”

“And who’s fault was that?” Reyna said.

Octavian waved away her accusative look. “It’s probably not the same people. I’m sure Pluto has plenty of demigod children.”

“Not recently,” Reyna argued.

Jason stood, distracting them. “Should we go? It’ll be roll call soon.”

Reyna and Octavian sighed at the same time. They looked at each other. They laughed a little. They had been doing that a lot recently.

It felt good.

Jason pulled on his purple cloak and clapped his hands together. “Right. Time to start the show?”

*

As they stepped out on the street, Octavian paused. Then glanced to his side. He raised his hand to the top of his head and floated it over Jason’s.

“Did you manage to grow taller overnight?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just make sure you don’t get any bigger. I like looking down on you.”

Jason shook his head, a small smile on his head. “You’re so weird, Tavi.”

“So you’ve told me.”

The roll call went as usual.

There were no missing legionaries. Though the lack of auxiliaries still felt… strange, hollow even. He tried not to think about their departure. He had wanted to make them official parts of the legion, but most had turned down the offer.

There were too many traditionalists on the Senate – too many who distrusted the auxiliaries to agree to allow them full membership to the legion. And none of the demigods were going to accept some pseudo-membership.

Still, Octavian wondered if it was a mistake not to push for it in the Senate. The legion had lost half its members in the fighting: a quarter died; a quarter deserted. They had all agreed on one thing – the deserters weren’t coming back.

But it left them weak and unstable.

The war is over, he reminded himself. They would have many years of peace to rebuild, to reinforce. It was business as usual. He even had Jason as a friend again.

That…

Well, it was definitely something. Good, or bad, or weird.

The flag bearers displayed each cohort’s emblem – and poor Jacob once more held up the pole missing their eagle. Seven years, Octavian had watched that empty pole rise. And everyday it reminded him of the burden he carried. His uncle had lost that eagle. It was his job to bring it back or his family’s glory would never be restored.

Maybe… maybe, he could step out again. Try and lead a quest. The war was over. And he more than a few promises he still needed to keep.

He suppressed a shiver.

Next year. He told himself. He would handle it all next year. What was Jason also saying? Something about focusing on the here and now.

With the muster over, they headed off towards the mess hall. Mike strode by him. Side by side.

*

Mike was only a little taller than Octavian, but where Octavian was skin and bones Mike was bulk. There had even been a time when Mike had crushed a rock between his fingers. He had arrived at the camp just over a year before – in the height of the war.

He had come to Octavian like many of the others. Tall, a little bit older than Octavian. He had arrived just before dawn, before the morning roll-call and inspections.

Octavian had met him just outside the door of the First Cohort’s barrack. He had been hard to miss. Of all the demigods, Mike looked the most like a god. Strong, lumber, and so good looking it distracted both his enemies and allies.

“Hi,” Mike had said.

“You’re new.”

“I was told to find the senior centurion of each Cohort.”

“Well you’ve found me. I’m the senior for the First. Are you hoping to join?”

“Yes.”

“Right, well. Come with me.”

Octavian started down the street to the Second’s barracks. He had just woken the First up, now it was time for the Second. Ida, their senior centurion, slept like the dead.

Mike had followed after Octavian.

“You have a name?”

“Michael.”

“Do you have nickname?”

“My friends call me Mike… why?”

“I had an uncle named Michael; I didn’t like him. I’ll call you Mike if that’s okay.”

“Sure.”

Octavian crossed into the Second Cohort barracks, unlocking the door with the spare key. The Second cohort had clean and orderly, but the vibe was… well, it was different. The First were the best, and they took pride in that. The Second always got well… the seconds.

“Alright,” Octavian said, walking down the centre of the barracks passed the bunk beds. “Rise and shine! Time to get up.”

He stopped in front of one of the bunks. A half-asleep teenager looked up at him. “I better not see that poster up come inspection time, Marty. You know the consequences.”

“Oh come on!”

Octavian ignored him, crossing over to Ida’s private room. He knocked on the door. “Wake up, Ida. You’re supposed to be setting an example.”

Something hard thumbed against the door on the other side.

Which meant she was now awake.

“Good morning to you too, Ida.”

He walked over to the other side and knocked on the other door. “Got it,” Bryce called back. “I’m awake. Don’t open the door.”

Octavian swung around, back to Mike. “Right, that’s done. What’s your deal, Mike? Tell me about yourself.”

The two of them walked down of the Second’s barracks and returned to the First. In the meantime, the First had finished their morning showers. They had all been up for an hour and half already, having gone for a morning run.

Mike gave Octavian the basics of who he is. That he had lived in Hawaii for most of his life, then he had moved to America and played as a line-backer at his middle school. I was headed to nationals when I heard Lupa’s call. So instead I went to the Wolf House. Now I’m here.”

The trumpets for morning roll call sounded.

Octavian nodded. “Find me later, we’ll go over your paperwork. I should be able to get my other centurion to agree to take you.”

“Really? I’m in the First?”

“Not yet. Go stand with the praetors. I’ll see you after breakfast.”

Later, that day, at lunch, Octavian had been pouring over the budgets. He had been doing to job for years at that point. And for that reason he had intimate knowledge of must things that occurred at the camp. The rest he got from his Sight.

Seated at the commanders table, Bryce played cards against himself. He hated doing his own cohort’s budgets, so Octavian did that as well. Bryce had promised to take over several more unsavoury duties from Octavian's cohort in the exchange. Not that he did any himself.

“You jealous?” Bryce asked.

“About what?”

“Reyna has a crush on Jason, right? Everyone is talking about it.”

“I don’t care.”

“Why not? I thought you liked her. And I know you hate Jason.”

“I don’t hate Jason. And don’t like Reyna. Not like that.”

“You should kiss her.”

“I’m not kissing anyone. Ever.”

“You’re so weird.”

“You’re the one who likes to choke his girlfriend.”

“It’s consensual,” Bryce said with a wicked grin.

Thankfully, Mike decided to show up at that moment. “Ah… Octavian… sir?”

“Not yet. You aren’t a legionary until this afternoon.”

“Do you pay your friends?”

Octavian raised an eyebrow, “Do you want to be paid?”

“I mean…” Mike pointed at Bryce. “Is he getting paid?"

“Please,” Bryce said. "Give my family some credit."

Octavian frowned at Bryce, “I don't though. And since he's asking about money, I doubt Mike can help much.”

"Figure of speech, Octavian. Figure of speech."

"Oh. Right, got it."

Octavian turned to Mike. “I don't pay people just to hang out with me, Mike. People do that for free.”

“Would I have to run errands?"

“Errands? Are they errands, Bryce?”

“Not the word I would use.”

“Me neither.”

“What you want have me kill someone?”

“No!” Octavian said. "Gods. I’m not evil.”

He held his finger up, stopping Mike’s reply. He really didn’t want to hear about the impression the other campers had given Mike in the last few hours.

“But you might have to watch someone for a while. Or squish rumours I don't like. That kind of thing. Though… you don't look built for subterfuge."

“No…” Mike said. “I don’t know if I’d want to do those things. Even if you were playing me.”

“Good,” Octavian smiled. “That means you have integrity. I don’t pay people, Mike. If I don’t trust you, you’re out. I don’t believe in that whole ‘keep your enemies closer’ thing.”

“Right. That makes sense.”

“More importantly,” Octavian stood. Mike might have been bulky and athletic, but he and Octavian was the same height. “Friends can walk away. You'll never owe me anything if we never exchange money. You understand?"

“Do you really mean that?”

“Despite what people think, I don’t lie very often.”

“You mentioned paperwork. I don’t have any.”

“I did, didn’t I? To start, do have a references or know anyone who could give you one?”

“My family lives in Hawaii.”

“Great. Ideal, even. We’ll contact Alex. He’s does a fantastic forgery.” Octavian smiled. “Don’t worry, Mike. I’ll get you into the First.”

“I told you to stop smiling, Tay,” Bryce said, “you’ll send the poor pup packing.”

Octavian glared at him, “Better?”

Bryce offered him a chefs kiss, “Perfect.”

Back in the present, Octavian sat down at the commanders table for the evening meal. Everything was so much different than it was when Mike had arrived.

For one, Bryce had been exiled.

And, for two, Octavian had a crush.

Both things disturbed him in equal measure.

Chapter Text

Octavian crouched in the trenches as poisonous pallets zoomed over his head. The other cohorts always targeted him in Death Ball and it was far harder to avoid them with the limited resources of the First protecting him. Despite the fact it was a five-way competition – half the time it dissolved into a one-v-four situation. Everyone knew if they didn't take him out quickly, the First would win. Of course, what they didn't know what that the First would win anyway.

He pressed his eyes closed listening to the reports coming across the radio in his ear. He had had the children of Vulcan make them for him and his cohort a few years ago, and now they were basically perfect. Built from imperial gold, iron, and the general spare-parts of mythology, they didn’t attract monsters. They had been instrumental during the Titan War and now they were useful in taking down the other for cohorts in every single wargame.

“Third is distracted,” Shaun reported. “They think the Fourth turned on them, again.”

Aula laughed from where she stood beside Octavian, acting as his defence on his left. “The Third are a bunch of idiots. Seriously, again?”

Octavian shrugged, already sending orders to his various legionaries. Most of them knew the plan, of course. But the specifics changed like the wind.

“Incoming,” Mike said, shoving his shield between Octavian and a squad of five from the Second. They slipped over into the trench in what looked like a suicide rush.

Octavian ignored them, mostly, there was a reason why Mike and Aula stayed with him. “Oscar, Linus, Felix, move thirty paces to the north, on your right. You’ll see a corridor. Shoot a volley of acid.”

“Got it.”

Octavian updated the map in his head of the battlefield as more updates came in. Meanwhile, Mike rushed the Second’s squad and Aula repositioned her poison-gun. Mike slammed into two of them, tackling them to the ground without much effort. Aula let loose her weapon, a sharpshooter each landed on their targets. With the remaining through dazed from weapon fire, Mike took them out easily.

Octavian grabbed his own shield, standing, “Let’s move.”

They rushed down the trench, several paces, until he heard Oscar’s report. “Wall down, centurion.”

“Great. Tony?”

“Target sighted,” Tony, Octavian’s younger sister and newest member of the First cohort, replied. A moment later, an explosion ripped across the Field of Mars. There were cries of pain and surprise. And laugher from the First as they watched the Third and Fourth get taken out.

“Enough. We will have the Fifth to deal with.”

There was a round of arrogant mockery across the coms.

“Enough.”

They fell silent.

“Full rush, legionaries. There’s nothing the Fifth can do against you all.”

He turned to Mike, “Great, now I can relax.”

“You could, yes.”

Octavian smiled just as a whistle came and the game was called. It seemed the Fifth had resigned before the First could riddle them with poison and bruises. The eagles flying above deposited the medics. Thankfully, this time, Octavian didn’t need them.

He walked past the groaning squad of five from the Second, “Better luck next time, Ida.”

She pointed her middle finger at him.

Octavian headed over to the viewing station where the two praetors watched the games. Unlike with the Siege game, Death Ball was Cohort vs Cohort, so the praetors stayed out. Octavian frowned, “Where’s Jason?”

“A demigod arrived. She calls herself Hazel Levesque. One of our children of Pluto?”

“No idea. I could make a sacrifice, but it would be easier if I see her first.”

“Jason is giving her the tour, since everyone else was busy. They should be back soon. And, Octavian.”

“What?”

“She seems a little skittish so don’t intimidate her.”

Octavian rolled his eyes, “When do I intimidate anyone?”

“That’s an order.”

He gave her a sarcastic salute. “Sure, sure. Anything for my favourite praetor.”

“Don’t let Jason hear that.”

“Jason isn’t here.”

Reyna glared at him, “You’re not winning any favours with me.”

“I’m not trying to.”

She sighed, long and bemoaning. “Jason said he would find you later.”

Octavian looked over his shoulder, “Just the one demigod?”

“She said she was alone.”

“Hmm…” He frowned, seeing his legionaries exchanging waterskins. Expect he was 100% sure the contents wasn’t water. “Well, I’ve got to go. My cohort is in desperate of a hassle.”

“You could be a little softer on them.”

“And let standards slip? Never. Give them an inch and they’ll run a mile.”

“Sounds like someone else I know.”  

He rolled his eyes and waved her goodbye. “Always good to talk to you, Reyna. Now? The laurels.”

She passed the laurel crown over, her braid flickering in the wind. Her expression grew serious, “I want to know if we can trust this girl, you understand? Jason likes her already, but I am not sure convinced.”

“I trust your instincts, but Jason is right. Normally is someone is going to be threat; I know about it.”

“Then you better tell me.”

“That’s my job.”

“Dismissed, centurion.”

“See you tomorrow, Reyna.”

Chapter Text

Octavian sent the First back to their barracks. They knew their duties – now that wargames were over, they had a small break for meals and baths. Then it was time for more training or studying. The First had always been very happy to give the option and Octavian felt no need to change it. He needed engineers and artillerists just as much as front line combatants.

Or – well, he had during the war. He shook his head, forcing himself to remember that it was over.

Reyna was probably right; he didn’t need to push them so hard. But what else was he supposed to do? For the four out of six years he had spent at the legion, they had been at war. Gods, even before that he had been carrying around the burden of the Great Prophecy. The only person who knew what was coming for two entire years.

He could have told someone. Yes.

But then he would have had to admit when he had sacrificed to learn it. And that was a truth he was taking to his grave.

Besides, it’s not like the members of the First would even know what to do with themselves if they didn’t have a strict schedule. You didn’t end up in the First if you had an actual personal life or a healthy relationship with productivity.

He spotted Jason and a girl sitting outside the First’s barracks. Right, the new demigod. He supposed her tour was over.

She had shoulder length curly, dark brown hair. Her clothes struck Octavian as unusual. She didn’t seemed to be wearing them comfortably, like they weren’t her own. And it seemed like she had simply grabbed them off a store rack, not even bothering to check if would fit or match. Still, it wasn’t entirely unusual for kids straight out of the Wolf House.

Octavian headed over to the two of them.

Jason stood, “Victory again?”

“It’s been too easy since you became praetor. You and Reyna should make a sixth team yourselves.”

“You’re going to have to get that one passed Reyna yourself.”

“Hmm… I don’t think that’s going to happen.” He glanced over at Hazel. She looked to be about twelve, maybe thirteen. She shifted back and forth on her feet. “So, this is Hazel Levesque?”

Jason nodded, “She’s a child of Pluto.”

“So you already know? Then why are you here?”

“I mentioned you could see the future and she was interested.”

“Oh, okay… I will warn you; most people find they hate knowing their own future. Demigods especially tend to have… brutal lives and even more brutal endings.”

That being said, Octavian could feel a strong pull on his powers. There was a prophecy connected to her, alright. Something big strung around her, enough that it rubbed at his skin and made him feel sick.

I hate meeting new people, he thought.

“I’d like to see it,” she said through a strong accent. He frowned but nodded.

“Alright.” Octavian walked over to the door of the barracks and called inside. “Stuffed toy, please.”

A toy tiger was flung in his direction. He caught it – just. And turned back to the two of them. “Right. Let’s see if the auguries are good, shall we?”

Hazel’s brow creased at the sight of the stuffed tiger. “You’re going to use that?”

“I am,” Octavian said, drawing his knife. He sliced open the tiger’s stomach and watched as the stuffed fell to the ground.

Daughter of chthonic riches

Maker of burned bridges

Death stains her soul

Reborn yet still hollow.

He frowned. That… He quickly hid his expression. “Right, well…”

He tried to think of what to do with the information he had just been given. What did it even mean. Death stains her soul… had she killed someone? What about the word ‘reborn’?

“Well,” he said, again. He met Jason’s eyes. And realised Jason wasn’t going to accept a bad omen for this girl. “It seems like she’s being to a good addition to the legion.”

“So, you’ll let me join?” Hazel asked.

Octavian shrugged, “You’re probably not about to kill us, so I give my approval. The rest is up to the praetors. And you’ll need to be offered a position in one of the cohorts.”

“If no one else offers, you’re welcome to join the Fifth,” Jason said, smiling. “That’s my old cohort. I can introduce you to the centurions. Unless… Octavian, do you want to make an offer?”

Octavian regarded Hazel, “Do you like being told what to do and having no free time?”

“Ah… not really?”

“Probably avoid the First then.”

“Right…”

“Anyway,” Jason said, shooting Octavian an annoyed look. “We’ll solve that tomorrow. For now, it’s getting late. You can spend the night at the principia. Do you might sleeping on a couch?”

“I don’t mind,” Hazel said.

Jason nodded and smiled. “Thanks, Tavi.”

Octavian sighed; he was never going to get Jason to stop calling him that. He started cleaning up the stuffed. “Good luck in legion, Levesque.”

*

The next day at the mid-day roll call, there were more than a few objections. Leila from the Fourth Cohort was probably the most notable voice, since she was a centurion, and her opinion would sway much of her cohort.

“We can remember the last chthonic demigod we let into the legion, surely?” Leila said, leveling a suspicious look at Hazel.

She didn’t mention his name, but they all knew she was talking about Bryce Lawrence. Octavian forced a mask of neutrality. He had done his best to keep Bryce’s more… vicious acts out of the rumour mill. They had even avoided Bryce being taken to trial over the unfortunate fate of Mabel, senior centurion of the Second.

But when Reyna became praetor, she had forced everything out into the open. All Octavian had been able to do was get Bryce exiled. Better than dead, but it left his reputation in shambles.

And, apparently, the reputation of every other underworld gods’ children in the process.

Hazel stood by the two praetors, obviously trying to appear strong. But even now, Leila was suggesting they take the matter to the Senate for a full debate. And many people were backing her up.

Octavian noticed Reyna looking his way. She raised an eyebrow. He offered her only a shrug. Hazel seemed like a good kid and her fate was vague enough that he wasn’t about to force her out. But it was definitely ominous. So he preferred to take a neutral stance here.

Obviously, that wasn’t the answer Reyna wanted, but Octavian had learned the hard way to never try to interpret a prophecy in a rush.

Jason stepped forward, looking ready to argue with Leila.

Except shadows began to swirl around his feet. He stepped back, but one’s shadow followed wherever one stepped. Octavian watched with surprise as the shadows rose from the ground and became a person.

A pale aviator goth boy stood before Jason, turning his head. “So this is the Roman legion?”

Immediately, swords were drawn.

“Wait!” Hazel called. “This is my brother!”

Jason held up his hand, “Stand down, I don’t think he’s here to attack us.”

“I’m not,” goth boy said. “My name is Nico di Angelo. I’m here as an ambassador for Pluto. I warn you, trying to kill me would be a really bad idea.”

Nico settled the same kind of intense gaze that often got Octavian in trouble upon Jason. “Are you the son of Jupiter?”

“I am.”

“Well, son of Jupiter, my father, Pluto, wishes for my sister to join the legion. From what I heard as I arrived, that’s not about to happen.”  

“Your sister is welcome in the legion,” Jason gestured towards Octavian, “we have read the auguries and found her to be a strong new addition, and,” he turned to Reyna, “my partner and I agree for her entry. Now, she will just need to join a cohort.”

Octavian felt Nico look at him, though he did not meet the boy’s gaze. Di Angelo? He had heard that name before – three years ago when Octavian had led his first and last quest as centurion. They had gone to Maine on the search for two children of Pluto. Only they had failed, been delayed. And that delay had doomed one of those children to death.

However, Nico di Angelo didn’t seem to realise that, because he turned to Reyna, then back at Jason.

“Great,” he said, though his spooky vibe didn’t wither.

It was true a lot of demigods liked to dress in ode to their parents. Children of Ceres often wore florals, for example. But… Nico di Angelo definitely took it further than most. His black hair was spiky in way that said he cut it himself. His black shirt had a massive skull on it. And he wore a massive silver ring in the shape of a skull. Not to mention the sword at his side didn’t look like it was going to be made of Imperial Gold.

“So…” Jason said, “Did you want to watch?”

“Sure,” without prompting, Nico walked over toward Reyna and took up position beside Hazel. His sister shot him a look of thanks.

In the end, despite of the sudden appearance of an ambassador to Pluto, only the Fifth Cohort offered Hazel a place. She followed Gwen and Jason over to the Fifth’s barracks, while Reyna turned to Nico.

“You and I need to talk.”

Nico nodded.

Octavian joined them, “So, Pluto’s ambassador? You’re a bit young, aren’t you?”

“I’m older than I look.”

Nico shot Octavian a look than didn’t broker questions or argument. Damn, this kid, Octavian thought, more than a little impressed. Fourteen-year-old Octavian could have used some pointers. Then he remembered that the other di Angelo was probably dead. And the look made a lot for sense – not in a good way.

“Are you staying long?” Octavian asked.

“I plan to visit, as the ambassador. But I have… other things to do.”

Reyna led them towards the principia. She looked over her shoulder, “I wish to discuss that situation further with you. Such a title… ambassador for Pluto, it’s unusual.”

“But not unheard of, I know Camp Jupiter once fielded several ambassadors.”

“The old camp did, yes,” Octavian said. “You’ll find that we’re not the same Camp Jupiter.”

“What’s different?”

“No ambassadors for one,” he said.

Nico frowned.

“But we should be able to make an exception, right, Reyna?”

Reyna didn’t look that happy, “I would rather he join the legion and swear loyalty to Rome.”

Nico shook his head, “Not interested. But if you are worried about my loyalty, as long as my sister isn’t mistreated by you R… your camp, then we won’t have a problem.”

“Your sister will be safe,” Reyna reassured.

“I hope she will be more than just safe.”

“Jason has taken her under his wing,” Reyna said. “If there’s anyone who understands what it’s like to be the child of the Big Three, it’s Jason.”

“And if she has Jason as a friend,” Octavian said, “no one will ostracise her.”

Nico’s expression softened for a moment, but it was quickly gone. He nodded.

They stepped into the principia. After a long meeting, where Reyna tried to get more details from Nico di Angelo than the son of Pluto was willing to provide – a frustrating exercise for all of them – they eventually agreed to having an ambassador.

Octavian suspected that only happened because Jason returned about halfway through, having situated Hazel in her barracks and introduced her to the rest of the Fifth. His arrival relieved the tension, if only slightly.

Jason had taken off much of his regalia, leaving just a purple shirt and jeans. The casual attire was a good choice, it seemed, because Nico settled a little. And Reyna seemed to realise she had been borderline interrogating the poor kid.

And as they spoke, Octavian realised that Hazel was not the only demigod with an intense prophecy strung around her. In fact, arguably, di Angelo was worse, thought it wasn’t so obvious as Hazel’s. Nico had several fates completed, but… they clung to him, like old scars. Octavian really wanted to do a reading, but unlike Hazel, Nico’s fate wasn’t… ready yet. Like a sword heating in a forge, if he took it out too soon, it would be next to useless.

At last, the meeting was over. They all shook hands, welcoming him.

“You are welcome to stay here tonight,” Jason said. “In the principia.”

Nico frowned, seeming not to like that idea.

“Or you can stay at New Rome,” Octavian suggested. He hadn’t spoken much during the meeting, preferring to take the time to analyse their new ‘ambassador’.

They all turned to him, almost surprised that he was still there. Octavian didn’t not to let it bother him.

Reyna frowned, “Where would he stay?”

“It’s fine,” Nico said. “I plan to return to the Underworld after this.”

Jason shook his head, kindly saying, “You’ll need to be ratified by the Senate when they meet tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Octavian said, as the shadows began to swirl under Nico’s feet. “There are a couple things you need for an official meeting at the Senate. Do you have a few hours?”

“I guess…”

“Great, Jason, will you inform Mike I’ll be missing war games today?”

“Sure.”

Octavian wasn’t really necessary for wargames today anyway. It was Siege. Reyna would be leading the defenders and Jason the attackers. This time, she had gotten the First and Fourth cohorts. And Octavian had no doubt she had her own plans for victory.

“Good luck, Reyna.”

“I won’t need it,” she said, looking over at Jason.

Jason pressed his hand to his heart, “Do I get any luck?”

“No,” Octavian said, standing. “You’re the enemy.”

The two of them made their way out of the camp, following the path up to New Rome. They were quiet, which bothered Octavian, not because he had much to stay, but because he felt like he should be saying something. “So…”

“So you’re like an Oracle?” Nico said.

“Oracle?” Octavian asked, thrown by the question. “No. Not an Oracle.”

“But you can see the future.”

“In a way.”

“So you can’t see the future?”

“Hm… my understanding of how Oracles work is that they get an impression of the future. Like a painting. A… blurry painting. Surrealist? Impressionist? I don’t know enough about art or Oracles to tell you exactly, but – they see the full picture, per se. My powers are more like a… a puzzle. Like a 10,000-piece puzzle of the same painting. And every reading I get is in perfect resolution and detail. But I get one or two pieces of that puzzle at a time. Unfortunately most of the time, it’s random bits of sky, that don’t make any sense until the rest of the puzzle has mostly been completed.”

“That sounds complicated.”

“It’s the future. Of course, it’s complicated.”

They reached the boundary of the city, where Terminus waited. He eyed Nico with acute distrust. “You need a bath, kid, you smell like death.”

“He’s a son of Pluto,” Octavian said. “And he’s going to be an ambassador. So, no, you cannot kick him out, Terminus.”

“An ambassador? But look at his hair! He needs a haircut.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” Octavian said, doubting that the son of Pluto was going to accept getting a haircut. He turned to Nico. “You’ll need to leave your weapons here. You can collect them on your way out.”

Nico glanced at Terminus, then down at the collection bowl at Terminus’ feet. Finally, he drew his sword – Stygian Iron – and set it atop the plate.

As he did, Octavian heard a familiar laugh from behind a nearby tree. He frowned and noted blonde through the leaves.

“Terminus? Is that my sister over there?”

“I believe it is yes.”

Octavian clicked his tongue and started over towards the tree. “Julia!” he said, “You know you’re not supposed to leave the boundary of the city. Gods, you should be a home.”

“Home is boring,” she called back.

She was only five and if either of Octavian’s parents had a bone of responsibility in their body, they would have cared that she was off out here, climbing trees without supervision. But there was one thing that Octavian had learned about his parents, it was that they could not actually parent. They weren’t terrible or anything – they just didn’t bother. It was Octavian who had enforced the rule about not leaving the city.

After all, when he was a child, he had roamed the hills with his equally young and unmonitored friend: Bryce and Jason. Frankly, it was a miracle, they weren’t all dead or permanently injured. You would have thought after Octavian had almost died falling off one of the bridges over the Little Tiber his parents would have changed their ways. But instead, Apollo had blessed him with prophecies – so Octavian’s mother had only see it as a benefit.

“Please come down,” he said.

“I don’t want to!”

Octavian crossed his arms, “I’m going to count to three.”

She didn’t move.

“Unus…duo…”

“Fine, I’m coming.”

He left her find her way down, then walked back to Nico and Terminus.

“Sorry about that. I guess I should introduce you, since I’ve already met your sister. Nico, this is Julia. Julia, this is Nico di Angelo, son of Pluto.”

“Salve,” Julia said.

“Hi,” Nico replied, though he didn’t seem to know what to do next. Octavian suspected he probably hadn’t spent a lot of time with kids Julia’s age.

“Terminus, I have a favour I’d like to ask of you.”

“Yes? What is it! I’m very busy, you know?”

“Can you watch Julia for a bit? I don’t want her roaming wild, she’ll get herself hurt.”

“Won’t!” Julia said.

Terminus looked down at Julia, “Hmm…”

“I’ll find you some marble fruit votives,” Octavian said, “in exchange.”

“What kind of marble?”

“Porphyry.”

“Ah! Fine. I will watch her. But she better make herself useful. Young Julia, collect this centurions weapons.”

Octavian raised his eyebrow, but Julia immediately jumped into action. She had the widest grin on her face. “Ita!” she said, holding out her hands.

“The plate, Julia,” Terminus said. “The plate!”

She spun around and spotted the plate. She grabbed it, then held it out to Octavian. “Weapons please, centurion!”

Octavian might have rolled his eyes if she hadn’t been so gods-damned cute. He set his sword, dagger, and javelin on the plate. She wavered at little at the weight.

“Careful.”

But she managed it, setting it down by Terminus. “Got ‘em, boss!” she said with a salute.

“Good work, Julia.”

Octavian glanced between the two of them, realising only then what Terminus was doing. He nodded, “Right, well, she should be good her. Shall we?”

Nico followed him into the city proper. Octavian heard Julia started chatting to Terminus about her favourite dolls at home and offering to show them. “Boudicca is my favourite!”

“Boudicca!” Terminus said. “That’s not very Roman of you!”

Julia giggled.

And then their voices faded behind bustle of the main street.

“So,” Octavian said. “Do you have any special powers, son of Pluto?”

“I can control ghosts.”

“All ghosts?”

“All ghosts. Skeletons too.”

“That sounds useful.”

“It can be. And I can shadow-travel, as you saw earlier.”

“Between the Underworld and here?”

“Anywhere. As long as there are shadows.”

Octavian’s eyes widened. Ghosts and skeletons were fine – but teleportation anywhere? That was a far more useful power. He felt his mind spin with the implications. Communication and movement were the hardest part of fighting a war. It was useless having powerful demigods if they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

We are NOT a war, anymore, he reminded himself.

“Well, that is impressive,” he said, trying to force a calm to his voice. “Anyway, we’re here.”

They had passed into the forum and now stood in front of the toga shop.

Nico frowned, “You want to shop? For clothes?”

“For a toga. You should have one as an ambassador.”

“I don’t need a toga.”

“It’s not up for debate, di Angelo. If you want people to accept you, you need to act like they expect you to. What’s the saying Americans always use, ‘when in Rome, do as the Romans’?” he raised his eyebrow. “The more you act like us, the less of an outsider you’ll be considered.”

Nico looked like he was going to argue that matter, but Octavian shook his head.

“Trust me on this one. Romans don’t care where you come from, just if you conform.”

“Speak Latin, dress in a toga,” Nico said listed. “Worship Roman gods.”

“That’s part of it.”

Octavian pushed open the door.

A young seamstress called out to them as they entered, “Salve!” she said, “Tempus unum.”

Long strips of white fabric lined each of the walls. Nico frowned, “I’m not wearing white.”

Octavian sighed, “Well, technically the only colour you’re not allowed to wear is purple.”

“Black. Can I have black?”

“You’ll stand out.”

“I don’t like wearing white.”

Octavian shrugged, “Well, if that’s what you want. As long as you’re wearing a toga, you’re probably fine. White is just traditional. Easier to clean too.”

“But it’s white.”

“Bleach, my friend. Bleach.”

Nico looked like he was going to argue with the word ‘friend’ but then the seamstress joined them.

“Oh,” she said, recognising Octavian. “Welcome, dominus. How can I help?”

“This one needs a toga. Custom, apparently. He wants it in black. Oh, we’ll need it by tomorrow morning.”

“Uh…”

Octavian shot her a look.

“I can do that. Rush order it is. I’ll get you measured up,” she said with a smile.

Awkwardly, Nico let the seamstress take his measurements. As they did, the shop’s owner, an older woman, arrived back from what was probably her break. Octavian considered having the shop bill the legion, but that would cause more of a headache than he needed if he ever had to explain to Reyna. She really hated when he spent money of “superfluous things”. So instead he told the owner to charge his family.

It was only as they stepped out of the toga shop and started towards the rest of the forum that Nico frowned. “Please tell me that was the last thing.”

“That was the first thing.”

Nico’s expression darkened.

“But it can be the last thing for today.”

“Cool, I’ll come back tomorrow. How much is the toga?”

Octavian shook his head, “Don’t worry about it.”

Nico’s frown deepened.

“Gods, di Angelo. I’m not letting you pay for the toga. You’re our guest, let Rome welcome its first ambassador in a hundred years properly.”

“That’s not–”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Nico. I mean it.”

“Fine. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

The shadows once more rose up to meet Nico, then he was gone. Octavian felt his shoulder relax, realising only then how tense he had been feeling.

“Well,  faex.”

A few weeks of peace and the gods decide to send his past knocking. He rubbed his forehead. Tomorrow was going to be along day.

Chapter Text

October 2009

In what had become a weekly ritual, the three of them had gathered near the legion’s stables. Jason and Octavian leaned against the fence, watching Reyna walk the only pegasus in the legion out into the paddock. Today, to Octavian’s surprise, Jason had brought along Hazel Levesque.

“Our daughter of Pluto loves horses,” Jason said.

Octavian raised an eyebrow, horse-girl was definitely not what he would have pinned Levesque as. “Well, maybe you can offer some advice. It’s not like Jay or I are any help.”

“Oh, come on, I haven’t been Jay for years.”

“You resurrect my old nickname, I’m resurrecting yours.”

Reyna ignored them as she paced the caramel-coloured winged horse around the paddock. The horse wasn’t really part of the legion, though it lived in the stables. He had been brought into the legion along with Ellie, a daughter of Epona. Jason and Octavian had met Ellie on their first quest, back when Octavian had been twelve and Jason eleven. Prior to that, Ellie had been living with druids, who had plenty of winged horses and even more hatred for Romans.

Despite the fact her mother was as much a Celtic god as a Roman one, Ellie had found success in the legion. She had been an important member of the First Cohort. A friend.

Since her death several months before, the pegasus had been without a rider.

They watched as Reyna tried to coax and dominate the winged horse. And despite Octavian’s suggestion that Hazel offer some advice, the girl was silent for must of it. Her eyes were glued to the horse, there was a wonder in them. She had fallen for its majesty, just as Reyna had. Perhaps even more.

Finally, Reyna was confident enough to ask the pegasus for a chance to be his rider. But the winged horse just glared at her – if horses can glare – and walked off.

Reyna sighed but didn’t press the issue. “That’s enough for today, then.”

She picked up his reigns and walked him back to the stables.

Octavian shook his head, “That horse is stubborn as Reyna. It didn’t even know that was possible.”

Hazel smiled, “I think he’s just playing hard to get.”

“Really?”

Hazel nodded, “But you are right, the horse is very stubborn.”

Octavian noticed that her accent had dimmed a little since she had arrived. It had only been a few weeks, so it must have been a conscious thing. A way to not draw even more attention to herself.

Reyna joined them, sighing.

“Better luck next week, Rey,” Jason said.

“I’m starting to think I’m going to need more than luck.” Reyna looked over at Levesque, “What can I do for you, legionary?”

“I just came to watch. I’m… well, I like horses. I grew up with them.”

“Oh? Well, perhaps we can work together in the future.”

“I’d like that.”

“Right, I’m going to hit the baths. A pleasure to see you, legionary.”

At that point, Octavian realised that Reyna didn’t remember the girl’s name. He figured he would offer her some help, “A pleasure to see Hazel? What about us two?”

Reyna glared at him, “To say it’s a pleasure to see would be a lie. And I would hardly be a good praetor if I lied to my subordinates.”

“Charming as ever.”

Reyna headed off to the baths after the same time Jacob rushed over. “Praetor! There’s a brawl.”

“A brawl?” Jason said. “Again?”

“This time it’s between the Fourth and Third.”

Jason turned to Octavian, then Hazel, with an expression of apology. Then he was off, headed after Jacob. The legion seemed to have more and more probably with fighting these days, especially as they wound back the number of wargames they hosted for the upcoming winter. Over the summer, they were constant, but in the later half of the year, the legion turned its focus onto academics. After all, there were all still school-aged.

He frowned. It seemed he was not the only one who found it hard to get back into peace mode. Many of the legionaries didn’t remember a time before the Titan War. Not even Reyna. And it was starting to show.

Years ago, the cohorts had been locked into an intense rivalry and it had taken three years of war and a complete change in leadership to pull them into the united force that had taken down Kronos. Now, it seemed, without a common enemy that were once more turning on themselves.

The question was – did they let it happen? If it was going to happen anyway, it would be better to control it. But still, that rivalry had cost them a lot of lives. It was had been their ultimate weakness when war came.

He sighed. It was a problem that he didn’t know the solution to – but he also knew that neither Jason nor Reyna would accept a revival of the old ways.

For Octavian, the ultimate question was, how long did they have to the next war? The last time a crisis as been as the one they had faced had been just over a hundred ago. Which made it seem all the likely that the next crisis wouldn’t come for another hundred.

“What’s his name?”

Octavian blinked, pulled out his thoughts. He looked beside him and realised that Hazel was still there.

“Ah… well, he was called Peanut for a while. Ellie – his previous rider – said that he liked being named by his partner in the skies. Her words, not mine. So, with her gone, he doesn’t have a name anymore.”

“Where did she go?”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh…” Hazel said. There was a dark look on her face. And Octavian knew it was probably not the best time to bring up her prophecy – but he never got the chance to talk to the girl privately.

“Do you know you’re cursed?”

Her eyes widened and she drew her legion-provided dagger with a swiftness Octavian hadn’t expected. He raised his hands.

“I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’.”

“What do you want? How do you know about it?”

“I learned about it went you first arrived.”

“Then why did you let me stay.”

“Because I don’t judge you for it. A lot of good people find themselves cursed. That’s just the unfairness of life.”

“You… aren’t cursed, right?”

Octavian shook his head. “I thought I was when I was a child. Normal kids don’t see the future written in toy stuffing. But eventually I learned to control it. And it became a blessing. A gift.”

“So?”

“So, if you are ever want to try and turn your curse into a blessing. Let me know. I can help – or at least I hope I can.”

“I… I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chapter Text

A storm was rolling in over the bay, and while the rest of the legion came under shelter Jason was more restless than ever. They had tried to play Mythomagic on the principia’s coffee table, but Jason wasn’t about to focus. Octavian’s gaze followed him as he paced back and forth, shaking his hands, trying to release the excess energy.

“Do you need to summon some lightning or something?”

Jason sighed, “No. I think… I’ve been thinking about something else. Something better.”

Octavian frowned, disliking the tone in Jason’s voice. He stood, circling around so he could see Jason’s expression – though it gave something away.

“What is it?”

“I’m thinking about retiring – resigning from my role as praetor.”

Octavian had no words.

“Don’t look at me like that. I’ve served my ten years, more. At least officially. And now that the Titan War is over and there’s peace. I can go. I can attend a regular school. I can be normal again. Maybe even… maybe even find my family.”

“Does Reyna know?”

“Reyna wouldn’t understand.”

“But I will?”

“You don’t?”

“I…” he bit his lip. How many times over the years had thought about running away? About giving up – cutting all the ties that bound him to this town? Jason was suggesting something different. But, “Yes, I understand.”

“Tay… do you want to come with me?”

Octavian looked away.

He had known Jason the longest of anyone at the camp – a full decade. They hadn’t been friends all that time. It had taken a war to bring them back together. But Octavian remembered the days when Jason would talk about his family coming for him, his mother and sister. He didn’t remember them well, of course, but he dreamed about them anyway. Jason had always wanted to be something over than the prince of the Camp, the Roman paragon.

“I still have three more years,” he said. 

Jason didn’t say anything.

It wasn’t an answer, and they both knew it.

The door of the principia open and Reyna stepped inside. The rains had begun, it seemed, because Reyna’s cloak was dripping water. She hung it from a coat rank and turned to the both of them.

“I need to speak with you, Jason.” She looked at Octavian. “In private.”

Octavian didn’t know whether he was thankful for her arrival or hated her for it. He needed time, yes, but he also thought he should give Jason his answer now. A proper one. Yes or no. Simple as that.

He sighed and nodded; the choice was gone now anyway. It would have to be made later. He walked out of the room without a goodbye to either of them.

It was the greatest regret of his life.

*

He went to the Temple of Jupiter, despite the wind and the rain. Despite the rumbling thunder above. It was the one place he could think without anyone bothering him.

He sat at the base of the altar. The shadow of Jupiter’s statue flashed in sudden acute as a lightning bolt struck.

Stay or go.

Decisions – always decisions. Was it so binary as that? Jason would leave, he suspected, with or without him. They were just friends after all. And friends walked and out of your lives like fickle spirits.

And he didn’t want to be anything more than that.

Would it be worth it? He would be a deserter, unable to see his family, his home, ever again. Would he truly trade that for a chance to live forever at Jason’s side? Was that even what Jason was offering?

He ran his hand along the smooth false fur of his stuffed animals. Elantia, the horse, named after his dead friend Ellie. Sebastian, a little bear, after an ex-centurion of the First and his mentor. Junia, a fish, daughter of a river god and his rival for so many years. He had once believed they would serve as centurions together. But it never happened.

The war had taken them all.

He wanted their advice. And none of them were there to give it. All he had was the stuffed animals that represented them.

No one knew, of course, not even Jason, the names he had given all his stuffed animals. They didn’t know that he sewed each and everyone up after gutting them.

It was like talking to… well, it was talking to something. They gave him answers.

He asked them then.

Instead of words, he got images. Sitting on a beach, watching a sunset. Tracing the lines on Jason’s hands. Looking in the eyes of someone… someone that maybe he could love and never lose.

“Thank you,” he whispered, restoring each of the stuffed animals. By the time he was done, the storm front had well and truly passed.

And he had made his choice.

He walked through the camp, going to the Fifth’s barracks first. Dakota met him at the door, glaring at him. They had improved their relationship since Jason and Octavian had become friends again. But Dakota had met Octavian and Jason just at the beginning of their years-long fight. And well, Octavian may have insulted Dakota a few times after being asked if he was Jason’s younger brother.

Yeah. He hadn’t been the most mature kid.

Nor the calmest.

He still wasn’t calm. But that didn’t matter. “I’m looking for Jason.”

“He’s not here.”

Octavian frowned but nodded. He had assumed Jason would tell Reyna, then the Fifth Cohort about his plans. But perhaps he wasn’t leaving just yet. Octavian walked to the principia next.

No one was inside.

It was at that point he started to get worried. Where were they – Jason and Reyna? They had been talking to each other before the storm, right? Had they gone somewhere? He had just been on Temple Hill, so… maybe into town?

He asked people on the street is they had seen the praetors, but everyone said no. He arrived at the boundary of the city, “Lord Terminus, have you see the praetors? Have they come into the city today?”

Another no.

Where is he?

Octavian bit his lip. Then he shook his head, why was he looking around? He could just see into the future. He drew out one of his stuffed animals and ripped it open.

YOU WILL NOT INTEREFERE.

He flinched, as if he had just been shouted at.

“Are you okay, augur?” Terminus asked.

Octavian looked at Terminus then back at the stuffing, but the message was gone. And there was nothing there at all.

“What?” he whispered.

“I asked if you are okay. You see I’m patting you on the back. It will be fine.”

“I would rather not be touched, Lord Terminus.”

“Oh, right. Very well then.”

Octavian collected the stuffing before it would blow away, shoving it into his pocket. He walked back at the camp, feeling frozen. He pulled on an impassive expression like a favourite coat.

Back at the camp, he found Reyna seated on the coach of the principia. She was slowly flipping over the Mythomagic cards, but it was clear she wasn’t planning. Or even really looking at them.

“Jason is gone,” Octavian said.

“He’s just out for a walk.”

“What happened?” he demanded.

Reyna looked up at him, frowning. “If you have to know, I asked him out and he said no.”

“Oh,” he stepped back. “When was that?”

“Before the storm front hit.”

“And now? Do you know where he is?”

“He went for a walk.”

“He’s not on a walk.”

“What are you talking about, Octavian?”

“Jason is gone.” And he left me behind.

Chapter Text

Jason is better off.

Octavian told himself again, scourging for a conviction that wasn’t there. He remembered the warning he had received the first day. Do not interfere.

But he wanted to know. Needed to know.

Jason wasn’t the kind of person to just leave. Right? He would make an announcement. He would make a speech. There would fanfare and tears.

Was that why he left without a word?

Jason is better off without you.

Or had Reyna asking him out on a date sent him running?

He’s better off without her too.

Is he?

He ignored the voice, the doubt, for a week. The legion was wretched with Jason’s disappearance. They had lost their prince. Their figurehead.

Even more fights broke out. Reyna could intimate the cohorts into obeying, but Jason had been able to talk to people. He had found the source of the problems and been able to fix them.

And now he was gone. Octavian realised just what burden they had placed on their friends shoulders.

He’s only fifteen.

He’s better off gone.

But then the voice came again: is he?

Reyna didn’t believe so. She refused to believe he had chosen to leave. It was that day, a week after Jason had gone, that Octavian decided to tell her about what Jason had said.

But she didn’t believe that either.

“He wouldn’t have said that. Not to you.”

Octavian stared at her. “Did you think he would make the offer to you instead? Isn’t this your haven, Reyna?”

“Isn’t it yours?”

“It’s my home. But it isn’t Jason’s. It never has been.”

“I’m not listening to this. I know Jason better than you. He and I are partners, friends.”

“Am I not your friend, Reyna? Am I not his?”

“If you truly believe he abandoned us. No, you aren’t.”

“If I had proof, would you believe me?”

Reyna shook her head, “Just go, Octavian.”  

“Reyna–”

“Dismissed!”

“You can’t just dismiss me, I’m not some–”

“Dismissed!”

“Fine. Whatever. Just thought you should know.”

He was hardly aware of where he was going until he was back at the Temple of Jupiter. His place to think. He stood at the steps. He heard a couple voices, people making an offering. It seemed they had made the assumption that Jupiter would know where his son was.

If only.

Octavian walked inside, attracting their stares. He raised an eyebrow and without a world they quickly packed up. No one disturbed him when he was here. They wouldn’t dare.

He ran his hand along the altar, whispering a prayer to Jupiter. The sky father was his great-great-great-grandfather, though he had never been considered a legacy. Legacies were only ever assigned to a god if they gained what was known as bargained power.

A legacy might have small gifts, like how Octavian’s mother always looked beautiful. Stunning even. Despite her age. But she had never completed a trial set by Apollo. Thus, she did not have a true gift.

Something of substance and power.

Though, if Octavian had completed one of Apollo’s trials, he didn’t remember it. One day he had woken up with the gift of prophecy. A once in a generation gift, they said. And everyone dubbed him a legacy of Apollo.

He had never thought that the trials would come later. And that he would still be trying to fulfill them even now, ten years later.

Still, it was useful power.

And maybe with it he would find Jason.

Do not interfere.

Well, screw you. He thought. He had to know what happened to Jason. He had to know Jason was safe and happy.

Octavian felt the storms begin to rise around the temple. He could only ever summon something like this with Jupiter’s aid. But that fact calmed him. The cold winds felt like a hug, comfort, reassurance.

Jupiter wanted to know where his son was too.

There was nothing.

Then there was the visions he had before. Sitting on a beach, watching a sunset. Tracing the lines on Jason’s hands. Looking his electric blue eyes.

Only this time, Octavian realised it was not his hand holding Jason’s.

Oh.

He took a deep breath and sat on the floor. Then he lay down, feeling the marble under his fingers, the words he had carved across the space years ago. He had written out every section of the Sibylline books they had on these marble floors. He had turned the temple into his sanctuary.

But there had been place he had visited before.

Will he know? Octavian wondered, tracing the decorations on the ceiling with his eyes. Then he sat up. He better.

Octavian walked a path he never thought he would tread again. Not in a million years. Memories of that night haunted him with each step.

Shouting. Pleading. His own voice echoed through him, until he was almost back in the memory. He hunted the future so much – but the past? The past could say buried.

Except Octavian needed more power.

He needed to know.

He arrived at Apollo’s shrine.

Chapter Text

It had only been two years, but if felt like a century.

In the beginning, it hadn’t even been about Apollo. Not even really about Octavian. It had just been a mission.

Go to Maine. Pick up some demigods and ferry them to Lupa. They would not make it otherwise. One of them would die. And Apollo believed they needed both.

But in the end, they were two late. The two demigods were gone.

And the mission had cost them to lives of Ida’s elder sister, Mabel, and Apollo’s daughter, Jackie.

They return to camp in defeat.

And since it was his mission – he had been blamed. And he didn’t understand why. Why had it failed? They had gone. They had done everything right.

They had…

He had gone to the shrine that night, on the eve of Saturnalia.

He had wanted answered.

Mabel was dead – and Ida’s tears had made it all the more painful.

Jason had tried to claim ownership of the mistake, but everyone knew Octavian had been the one in charge of the mission.

If he hadn’t listened to Bryce… would Mabel still be alive?

If he had convinced Jackie to stay… he could have saved her?

They were both dead – because of him. His first time as leader and he hadn’t even come back with the demigods they had gone out to get.

He prayed to Apollo, searching for answers. And, maybe, hoping for some kind of salvation. A kind look or even just a feeling, after so many cold shoulders.

There had been nothing.

Apollo was silent.

Apollo was never silent.

And Octavian had… well, he had lost it.

Janus had told him before. He had to choose a path: Minerva or Apollo.

Octavian had thought he could walk both. Minerva had wanted him to go east, following the guidance of the coin Octavian had inherited from his father. Apollo wanted him to save those two kids.

Two birds one stone.

But when Minerva’s path led him one way and Apollo’s the other, Octavian had decided to walk Apollo’s. He had already had a taste of Apollo’s power.

Prophecy gave him a place. It gave him power.

But more importantly, he forced people to pay attention to him. They needed him, even if they hated him. Even if they dreamed of running him out of city or stabbing a knife in his back.

Now it was all different.

Those eyes, he felt like they were watching him even there.

He started to talk, circling the shrine. He didn’t care if Apollo listened. He insulted him anyway. Mocked him. “For all your abilities, you’re rather ineffectual. Aren’t you?”

No answer.

He slammed his hand against the altar. “You sent me on a wild goose chase – and for what!”

No answer.

“What do you want from me?”

He waved his hand, knocking over the votives. They smashed on the hard ground.

“Answer me!”

And Apollo did.

The punch burned as it hit his face. He fell back, slamming into a garden. When he could think – could see – he found Apollo before him.

Not just a feeling. Not a omen on the winds.

The god.

A very angry god.

He saw his death behind Apollo’s eyes. He tried to run but his legs failed him. Everything hurt. It was his anger – it had controlled him and now he was dead.

“You were too late!” Apollo said, as if Octavian didn’t already know. “Now that girl is going to die and it’s your fault.”

I did everything you told me to! But he couldn’t say the words, fear stuck them in his throat. Instead he threw a teddy bear at the god. It burned before it even got close to hitting Apollo.

Apollo started to advance on him. “I gave you your gift so you would help people. You’ve done nothing. You knew Jackie was going to die. And you did nothing. She was my daughter.”

“I tried!”

“And Mabel? How can you face her sister now? You are a disgrace – my worst descendant.”

Octavian climbed over the foliage, crushing flowers beneath his feet. His body wasn’t frozen anymore. But it wasn’t like he could outrun a god.

He still ran.

He dashed up the hill. His vision was blurry. He thought he could die before he took two steps. But Apollo simply walked after him, unconcerned.

He was a hunter after all.

Octavian would run forever, and that arrow would still find its mark.

There had been only one place Octavian could think to go – one place where he could dream of sanctuary. He reached the stepped of Jupiter’s temple before Apollo seemed to realise his intent.

Octavian spun around and faced the god as realisation dawned after his face. Then Apollo stopped, a look of bore, callous amusement on his face. “Are you going to hide there forever?”

It worked, Octavian thought. And that unlocked his voice.

“Please, give me another chance!”  

“They don’t get another chance, why should you?”

“I… I… I’ll make you important. I’ll become praetor and I’ll build a temple for you. Not just a measly shrine.”

Apollo frowned. But Octavian thought he said something in those eyes.

He looked upon this Apollo, and realised it was not the one he had seen in statues around the camp. That one had an easy smile to him. The kind of engulfing charisma that made the world adore him. A performer. A diva.

This Apollo was different. He wore a laurel crown of burning gold. And his eyes held no love or humour.

Only ambition.

Carefully, Octavian continued. “You can’t rival Jupiter here on Temple Hill, but Vesta has her own hill. Why not you? A temple – a cult larger than even Jupiter’s. You are more than just another god. You’re Apollo. You deserve to be acknowledged.”

Apollo hesitated.

Octavian stepped back out of the temple. “If you’re going to kill me. Then, please, just do it. But… I’ve always respected you, really. You are my greatest ancestor. You know that. I really tried to save her. And I want to… I want to try to save this camp.”

Apollo stared at him. Then he nodded slowly. “Swear it.”

“Swear what?”

“That you will make me this temple. Do it on the River Styx.”

Octavian knew he didn’t have another choice. He had already been there before – with Minerva. He nodded. “I swear it on the River Styx.”

Apollo set a hand on Octavian’s shoulder. The heat of his touch hurt.

“You put another toe out of line. It’s over for you.”

“So you won’t kill me?”

“No. You were out of chances but… well Jackie can’t be saved now, but maybe Bianca can be.”

“Bianca?”

“Bianca di Angelo. The girl you were supposed to pick up.”

“She’s not dead?”

“Not yet.” Apollo hesitated. The fiery form seemed to… soften. And Octavian could almost see that other form of his. The lighter one. The happier one. “I think Camp… anyway, doesn’t concern you anymore. I’ll be in contact about that temple. Have a good night. Don’t mess with my shrine again.”

“I won’t,” Octavian voice shook.

Then the glowing god was gone. And Octavian could only stare at the slightly burned ground where he had stood. He fell to his knees. And he cried. He cried until the tears stopped running. Then he stood.

He turned to Jupiter’s temple and said, with as much respect as he could muster, “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Octavian bowed his head long before stepping into the gates of the shrine. It’s altar had a couple votives and what looked like old offerings, but Apollo wasn’t a particular popular god for the Romans. He wasn’t hated or distrusted, sure, but he was just a little to… artistic. And the arts were something Romans like to take and transform into something useful, like buildings or bridges or empires.

But Octavian had seen another form of Apollo that night. And if he was going to get answers from anyone, answers that not even Jupiter knew, it would be that Apollo.

Octavian imagined him, the crown of flames. That element had stuck in his memory even after he suppressed the rest. Crowned Apollo. The side of the god burning with ambition. The one who will listen to bribes.

Was Crowned Apollo the father of Augustus? It made more sense than the other one. Why else would so many tyrants, dictators, and autocrats turn to Apollo – and receive his blessing.

He knelt by the altar.

“Lord Apollo, I humbly beseech you…”

Before he could finish, he felt a rush of warmth on his cheeks and opened his eyes. In the daylight, Crowned Apollo looked less like a scar against the darkness and more like the sun disc at the centre of the sky. The Mist swirled around and parted, it circled them at the edges of the gardens. No one would know. No one would enter.

Octavian braced himself. A lecture? Death?

“You’re back. Can’t say I expected that.” Apollo sat on his altar, one leg hanging off the side, the other resting along the marble. He looked more bored than angry. “That’s good, because I have news.”

“News?”

“That’s been a prophecy – a big one.”

“A prophecy?”

“The prophecy of the Seven, I think you Romans like to call it.”

“We already had that.”

“Well, we’ve got it again. Which means something is about to happen. Something is going to go down. And soon.”

Octavian nodded, though he really didn’t like the sound of that. He recited the prophecy of Seven in his head.

Seven half-bloods shall answer the call.

To storm or fire, the world must fall.

An oath to keep with a final breath,

And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.

Of all the Sibylline prophecies, it was the one he was most familiar with – after all, it was the prophecy that he sent his uncle north to Alaska and ultimately destroyed whatever reputation his family had in New Rome.

“That’s… that’s an incredible opportunity, my lord. To help – I mean. A victory in Alaska, where we failed before, a return of the eagle. And all of that we would be able to credit to you. But, ah… one of our best warriors has disappeared. That will make it more difficult.”

“I heard about that. Weird.”

“Weird, my lord?” Octavian dared glance up to Apollo’s face. “In what way?”

Apollo shook his head, “Nope, nope. I can’t you. I won’t. We still have a standing deal, and you haven’t kept up your side yet.”

Octavian thought about arguing but thought better. Was it ‘can’t’ or ‘won’t’? Apollo definitely knew more than he was letting on.

“I want my temple,” Apollo said. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“I’m working on it. I’ve been building up the legion’s funds–”

“Well work faster!”

“I will. I have plan now. If the prophecy of Seven is starting, and my uncle was even half right. The journey takes the legion north first. To Alaska. I will use the victory there to justify to the others a construction of your temple. I just need your aid in getting there.”

“No,” Apollo said, sounding much like the sixteen-year-old kid he had disguised himself as.

“I’m sorry?” he hesitated, knowing he shouldn’t question a god outright. “I’m just a foolish mortal, I don’t understand anything…so, can I ask why?”

“There is a war coming. An army. And I’m not risking any of my adoring followers on that quest.”

Quest, Octavian noted. Not mission. Not the legion.

“A war? Against who?”

Apollo sighed loudly, “Do I have to tell you everything?”

“Please, just this one thing. Well, two things…” He hadn’t forgotten Apollo’s words, won’t. “You are the greatest god in our pantheon. You know that. I know that. But them?” Octavian gestured towards Camp Jupiter. “They don’t. Give me something to bring to the others.”

Apollo leaned back. “You’ll have to convince the legion on your own. If I interact with the legion as I am now I will… well, it’s not pleasant.”

He flicked away one of the offerings on the altar. Looking annoyed and bothere.d

“But one thing I can give you is a fate of your own.”

“A fate of my own?”

“Yes, aren’t you blessed? A real prophecy straight from a god. That’ll satisfy you, yes? Demigods like that kind of thing.”

“Is it about Jason?”

“Jason?” Apollo frowned. “No! It’s not about Jupiter’s kid. Ugh. No. It’s about you.”

Apollo spread out his arms like a conductor. As if he was the one controlling the future. Like music in an orchestra. “I foresee that you will be remembered as a saviour of Rome.”

Octavian didn’t know what to say to that.

He felt a fire, one he thought long extinguished, start to burn within him. Janus had once told him that the path of Apollo would deliver him fame, accolades, and power. He had given up on all three after the failure in Maine.

But what if?

“Thank you, lord. I… I don’t know what to say. I… you are truly great. If we work together, I know we can do exceptional things. We will remake Rome into something... But, and I hope you understand where I’m coming from here, I need to know if Jason will safe. I love him, Apollo.”

Apollo hesitated, clearly not expecting that. “He’s… he won’t come back. Not soon. Not for you.”

“I don’t mind. I just need to know he’s safe.”

“That depends on what you do,” Apollo said, his form softening into that other one. The one less interesting in burning the world to rebuild it anew. The lover. The artist. The poet.

“What do I do to keep him safe? Please, Apollo.”

“You’ll know. You’re a smart one.”

“Please. I need more–”

“You’ll know,” Apollo repeated, returning once more to his Crowned form.

Octavian bowed his head. “Yes, of course. I believe you. I only desired more knowledge to serve you better.” 

Apollo slid off the altar, walking passed Octavian. “We will be in touch. Things are happening and I don’t like how underrepresented I am here. Remember, we have a deal.”

“And I intend to keep it.”

“Good. Because the Styx is a right bitch if you break one of her oaths. And you’ve got three hanging over your head.”

Octavian turned, briefing shocked that Apollo knew about his other oaths.

But the god was gone.

Octavian had come to him for answers, but he had only ended up with more questions.

Chapter Text

“Close the doors,” Janus had said.

Octavian had agreed to that oath without hesitation. It seemed easy. After all, the final battle of the Titan had already begun.

Janus’ temple was unlike Jupiter’s. Nor did he hold resemblance to Apollo’s shrine. It was like a giant arch of marble. A massive Gate. And at the centre were two massive doors.

Octavian remembered coming home from the battle, seeing the doors had closed. He had felt so much relief, knowing the war was over.

The Doors of Janus would open whenever Rome was at war. And, for the first time, Octavian had finally completed one of his oaths on the River Styx.

But Apollo had said three oaths.

One to Apollo. One to Minerva. One to Janus.

He stood beneath the massive doorway. It was closed. He was sure it was close. He couldn’t see the other side after all.

He touched the doors.

Close the doors.

But they were closed. He walked back and forth along the base. The gold filigree on the old, weather oak glinted even in the shade of the temple.

He recalled the oath he had made.

He had managed to… remove… a certain praetor who had been interfering with their goals. Reyna had been elected, yes, but her partner had been vetoing many of their battle plans. That praetor, one Praetor De Leon, had seen the three of them (Octavian, Reyna, and Jason) form an alliance. With Reyna now elected, they had taken the lead. They now held greater power and influence over the legion.

And De Leon had fought them tooth and nail as a result.

He had been as old guard as they came. And Octavian knew eventually the entire legion would have turned on him. But they had run out of time.

So he had sped things up.

But at a cost. De Leon had realised his plans and attacked him. Almost killed him. Octavian would have died if he hadn’t taken the risk of eating ambrosia. For most legacies, the risk wasn’t worth taking. The food of the gods would burn them to pieces.

Octavian… well, he was technically five-eighths god. And without it, he was definitely going to die. That didn’t mean the ambrosia didn’t burn him. It felt so deathly sweet as he eat it. Then he had blacked out from the pain.

Three days he had drowned from the pain, feeling like his body was being ripped to pieces.

When he woke in the infirmary, the legion had already marched. They were already fighting the Titans on Mount Tamalpais.

But Octavian knew they would not win – because he had the only weapon that could be used to destroy Saturns’s throne.

He rolled off the bed, fishing the stone from his pocket, just to be sure. It was made of black obsidian – the same material the rest of the throne had been built from. Octavian had once used this small piece to hide the body of Bryce Lawrence’s father. That had been a day. And this would be another.

He staggered as he tried to walk out of the infirmary. He looked over to the west, to where a black storm raged. Everyone was gone, leaving only a few Lares milling around.

I have to get there, he thought. Then he saw a streak of lightning – blue and glowing, not like the sickly greens and purples of Saturn. Not Jason was up there. The legion was already fighting. How long would they hold out? It would take Octavian an hour to get to Saturn’s palace, maybe more considering his state.

His entire body hurt. He felt dizzy. He hadn’t eaten anything in three days, nor taken his supplements – and that really didn’t help his anaemia. 

I won’t make it.

Not the normal way, at least.

He grabbed his pack and knife where they sat beside the cot. Then he headed off, not running, running would have made him faint, but he did walk as fast as he could.

He dropped down into one of the tunnels of the Field of Mars. The small gift he had inherited from Janus had helped him navigate and map this rabbit warren more than one in his life. But that didn’t change the fact that the Labyrinth was a mess – and it was dangerous.

He passed beneath a sign that said Beware: Death Beyond This Point.

Octavian had been moving through the tunnels for what felt like hours, but was probably only a couple minutes, when he collapsed. His chest felt like it was going collapse or explode or maybe both. He forced his body to fall against the wall, letting it catch most of his weight as he slipped to the ground. He groaned, gripping the stone harder than ever. 

He had to get this to the legion.

He crawled down the tunnel, following onto a sensation of ‘rightness’ until his fingers brushed a doorway. He shoved it open and tumbled into a room.

It was an apartment with a view of the bay. And the storms.

But it wasn’t the palace. Not, arguably, Octavian was further from it than Camp Jupiter. He stared out at Mount Tamalpais… Mount Othrys, as the Titans had made it.

I’m too late.

“That is for you to decide.”

Octavian turned his head to find someone seated on a coach, watching the battle. Except, he wasn’t.

The god had two faces. One facing towards the battle. The other facing towards Octavian. He wore a suit, though it was a fraying at the sleeves.

“Janus,” Octavian said. “What are you doing here?”

“Watching the battle,” one of them said.

“Waiting,” the other said.

“Waiting of what?”

“You. Another. Who knows? Change will happen and I wait for it. I anticipate it.”

“Ah… right. Why am I here? I wanted to get to the battle.”

The battle face tutted. “How direct. Yet have you forgotten your fate? The lone wolf shall sacrifice the corps…”

“I don’t like it,” the curious face said. “There is no choice in that line. What’s the point of not having a choice?”

“Idiot,” battle face said. “Of course there is a choice. If he doesn’t go, the lone wolf will be someone else. And then everyone dies."

“I need to get to the palace,” Octavian said. He refused to listen to that line, nor Janus. He would save them. He refused to kill people who didn't deserve it. “Will you help me?”

“No,” battle face said.

“Yes!” curious face said. “But–!”

“Shut up,” battle face said. “I'm no getting involved.”

“Why not?” Octavian asked.

Janus shrugged and both faces spoke then, “The Titans win, the Olympians win; things change, things stay the same. I mind both.”

“You don’t care if Saturn rises? If he destroys the gods?”

“He will destroy the Olympians,” battle face said. “Of which I am not one. And they never really liked me anyway.”

“Coming into my home,” curious face said. “Claiming the place.”

“Long ago,” battle face continued. “Saturn and I were friends. Perhaps we will be again.”

“My friends are out there,” Octavian said. “I intend to save them. You said you would help me, but also you won’t. Which is it?”

“Oh, but you know!” battle face said, suddenly looking at him. With curious face looking away. “I told you already. You can’t walk both paths, kid. Minerva or Apollo. It’s time to choose.”

“Which one lets Rome win?”

The battle face grinned. “Neither!”

At that point, Octavian lost his patience. He drew his knife, even though the rational part of him told him that was really bad idea.

“Look, Lord Janus. I am going to get to that mountain one way or another. I will fulfil my destiny. I don’t care what path I have to walk. Or who I have to kill. Or whatever the fuck you have going on. So here’s the deal – you’re going to use your magic to teleport me into Saturn’s throne room and I’m going to destroy his throne. Do you understand?”

The faces laughed, switching between each other to look at him. Mockingly.

“A deal?” Janus said, Octavian couldn’t tell which face. “Haven’t you had your fill of deals?”

“Not if it means getting this stone to the mountain.”

“A lie!” – “Truth!” – “Does he even know?”

“Shut up!” Octavian shouted.

“I have a deal for you.” – “Yes.” – “I gave your uncle a deal!” – “You’ll get what you want.” – “And I get what I want.”

“Which is?”

“Close the doors,” Janus stood, growing taller, until his head almost touched the ceiling. “They have been open for too long.”

“What doors?”

“Mine!” – “Too long!” the second face chimed.

“By ending the war?” Octavian asked.

“Yes!” – “End it! I’m bored.” – “Make an oath on the Styx. I won’t do as you ask without it.”

Octavian nodded. Such a task would be easy. Defeat Saturn and the war is over. Easy. He wished his other ancestral gods demanded such simple tasks of him. “I swear I will close the doors of Janus. I will bring peace to Rome.”

“Great!” Janus said, holding out his hand.

The ground beneath Octavian’s feet turned black, then disappeared. And Octavian fell through.

He stumbled onto the battlefield, right in the centre of the palace. They were in the throne room. Jason was facing off against Krios. Octavian couldn’t see Reyna. Nor Ida and Ellie.

He looked down and found the stone had become a knife. He gripped it hard, but found his body still weak.

He glanced at the throne at the far end of the room, but Krios and Jason stood in the way. Octavian knew he couldn’t get through Krios.

But Jason?

He staggered over, until he was close enough to the duel that he thought he could make the pass without a problem. “Jason!” he called, as Jason stabbed Krios with his lance.

Jason looked over his shoulder, eyes widening a little in surprise at seeing Octavian. His imperial gold armour sparked with electricity. 

Gods, he's beautiful.

Octavian ignored the thought. He had no time for that. What even was that?

“Use this!” Octavian called and tossed the knife. Jason grabbed it and turned on Krios.

A moment later, he plunged the dagger deep into Krio’s skull and the titan disintegrated. Octavian felt his knees fail him again as Jason dashed for the throne. He raised the knife once more and slashed through the throne. It split apart – then crumbled.

The throne had been destroyed. Krios had been defeated.

Saturn wasn’t going to rise.

Octavian sat on the floor of the palace, even as it started to shake. It was done. And he hadn’t had to kill anyone.

So who was the lone wolf?

He looked over his shoulder as the legion rushed into the room, Reyna at their head. They swarmed around Jason, cheering. More came, rushing past Octavian. Praising their prince.

He watched them raise Jason up on a shield and carry the son of Jupiter out of the room. The last one to leave, Reyna, looked over at Octavian.

She was the only one who saw his tears of relief.

He had thought for so many years that he would be responsible for the death of at least a cohort. He had never told anyone that line of the prophecy. He had feared they would run him out if they knew.

But ‘sacrifice’ didn’t always been kill. He realised. Cursing himself for assuming he had understood.

The legion would name Jason praetor. And Octavian would remain as he was. A priest, separate from them all.

The lone wolf.

He closed his eyes, whispering a prayer to Janus. Thank you.

Then he forced himself to his feet. And walked out of the throne room with Reyna at his side.

And he had thought it was over.

But the doors weren’t closed.

In the here and now, Octavian spotted a section of hinge. It was wrong. He shouldn’t have been able to see it. Not in how the doors were designed.

He circled the Gate, checking every inch. Just to be sure. But he already knew the answer. The Doors of Janus were slightly ajar.

And they always had been.

The stains on the ground had settled in a way that assumed this ajar state was the norm. There was no paler line where rain had failed to reach. He remembered how Janus had said he was bored. And how before that he had said he was indifferent about the Titan War.

Even since the Temple had been raised. Perhaps longer. Rome had been at war. But why? Who are they fighting? Who is their enemy?

He has no answers. And Jason is still gone.