Chapter Text
In a single instant, a life can be saved, or taken.
A single choice of a single person in a single moment can decide the fate of another.
In this universe, Octavian lives.
In this universe, instead of Will standing by and letting Octavian kill himself, Will tackled him.
This causes a multitude of changes.
Nico slashed through Octavian's robes, and knocked away Michael Kahale.
The oanger still fired towards Gaea.
The explosion still killed Leo.
Yet Octavian remained on the ground.
Yet Octavian remained alive.
On a sunny afternoon, instead of dying in a golden, fiery explosion in the sky, Octavian was taken into custody by the Greek Demigods.
On a sunny afternoon, Reyna resumed command of Camp Jupiter.
On a sunny afternoon, Octavian remained alive.
On a sunny afternoon, a single choice, by a single person, made in a single instant, changed the fate of a single teenager.
Octavian was put to an impromptu trial and was put into the custody of the Greeks to do as they wished with him.
He was a prisoner.
But yet, he was alive.
Years ago, 3, if I'm not mistaken, the basement of the Big House was where a son of Hermes named Chris Rodriguez was kept. A son of Hermes from the other side of a war. A misguided teenager driven against his family. A mere child driven insane from the twists and turns of the never-ending malevolent labyrinth, at the hands of the ghostly King Midas.
Now, the same basement of the Big House served as a prison to a different misguided teenager, from the other side of another war. A legacy of Apollo. A man who was thought to be deranged. A child who just wanted to defend his home.
Octavian, Legacy of Apollo.
Octavian hadn't been fine in a very, very long time.
He hadn't been good in even longer.
Octavian grew up in New Rome, orphaned at 10, he joined Camp Jupiter at 11.
Octavian lived for Camp Jupiter.
He breathed for Rome.
His blood flowed for his city.
And yet, there he was, a prisoner of the enemy .
A prisoner who would almost certainly never to arrive back home.
A prisoner, tried and convicted.
Octavian was born in New Rome to an unmarried couple.
He was born to serve the gods.
He was born to lay down his life if it meant the betterment of the legion.
At least, that's what he believed.
At least, that’s what he was taught to believe.
The Greeks had attacked his home.
The Greeks had declared war by sending fire at New Rome.
They had attacked first.
They offered no explanation.
They offered no condolences.
They fled.
And then the praetor ran after them.
Treason.
Collaboration with the enemy.
Treason is always death sentence.
Reyna, if she were to ever to return, should, under many generations old law, have been killed.
And yet?
She wasn't.
And yet?
Octavian was punished.
Thrown in the basement of a camp he didn't belong in.
Left to the mercy of the enemy.
Left to rot far, far, away from his city.
Left to rot far, far, away from his home.
He had acted with integrity, at least, he had acted with integrity at first.
He couldn't tell you when exactly his motives turned towards himself, nor would he ever want to.
Octavian looks back at those final few years at Camp Jupiter as the worst part of his life.
I, would say he is correct.
At first, Octavian wanted to avenge his city. Avenge his home.
Avenge his people.
At first, Octavian had only wanted to protect his home, his life.
But… then, at some point, he simply didn't .
Octavian had always wanted to be remembered with honor. For his legacy to be one he could be proud of.
If you really think about it, maybe you could say his desire to be remembered pushed him led him down the dastardly path he took through his late teens.
Octavian the Brave .
Octavian the Valiant .
Octavian, Savior of Rome .
Octavian, Pontifex Maximus .
Octavian, Praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata
But, in the end, he was remembered quite differently than he would have imagined.
Octavian the Bloodthirsty .
Octavian the Power Hungry.
Octavian the Deranged .
Octavian the Disgraceful.
He never wanted to end up like this.
Not really.
When Octavian first joined Camp Jupiter, he had been exited, ecstatic, and eager to rise in the ranks.
He had looked at the legion as where he was supposed to go. His future. His destiny. His legacy. What he was supposed to do in life.
But, what they don't tell you is that Camp Jupiter is an Army .
Not a summer camp.
Octavian had always been on the frailer side, too pale, or too skinny, or even too weak, and he had never had the best constitution.
He had never been the most well liked, either.
He had few powers to mention, and had never been the best at making friends.
He was quick to trust others…
…and even easier to use.
And so we start our story in a dark, dank basement. Our protagonist with thick celestial bronze cuffs around his wrists, and chained to the wall.
He had been stripped of his jewelry and robes, stripped of his weapons , stripped of his titles , stripped of his pride, and stripped of his home .
They would not stop mocking how pathetic he is. How far he had fallen.
He decided to ignore them.
Octavian screamed himself hoarse when anyone dared to approach him. Roman or Greek, it didn't matter.
He screamed anyway.
To the few Romans who came, he called them traitors.
He screamed that they were collaborating with the enemy. That they were committing treason by leaving their superior chained to the wall in a dark, lonely, basement. He screamed that they should free him.
He screamed .
He begged .
He pleaded for them to free him.
They didn't.
They tried to calm him down.
They tried to get him to listen.
They tried to explain.
But eventually, Octavian chased them off with his demeaning words and sharp insults.
He had never felt more alone.
Even with them in his head, he had never felt more alone.
He treated the Greeks who came to see him far worse than the Romans.
They were his enemy. He came here to eliminate them and return the gods to their rightful glory.
They didn't like the Greeks.
They were screaming to kill them. To tear them apart.
Instead of doing what they wanted, he called the Greeks a wide range of foul insults and slurs.
They were the enemy.
The Greeks were.
They attacked New Rome.
No one bothered to explain things to him, at least, not in a way Octavian was willing to accept.
It didn't help that they wouldn’t stop mocking him.
He screamed until his voice was gone, and even then he made hoarse croaking sounds at those who dared go near him.
He didn't try to escape.
What was the point?
Where would he go ? To the mortal world to be devoured by monsters?
They tried to tell him that he could escape.
But he knew they were lying.
He was alone in this. He was alone in his imprisonment. Any allies he might have had had forsaken him.
And They weren't really allies, were they?
Eventually, Connor and Travis Stoll come to take off the shackles.
When Octavian hears the door open, his first thought is that they have come to hurt him.
The second is that they have come to kill him.
And They certainly weren't debunking the idea.
They try talking to him, but Octavian was yelling. Screaming. He didn't want any Greek near him.
They destroyed his city.
They attacked him home.
They killed his people.
He shrunk away when they approached him, flattening himself against the wall.
He tried to tell them to leave.
He tried to get away from him.
They were screaming at him to attack the graecus .
The Stolls told him that they are not here to hurt him.
Octavian didn't believe them for a moment.
They shared a look, and walked towards him.
Octavian's heart was beating so loudly he would have sworn that they could have heard it from across the room.
Octavian’s heart was beating so loudly it almost blocked them out.
Octavian refused to let them come near him, not without a fight at least.
He is knocked down almost pitifully easily, reduced to almost pitiful screaming and thrashing.
The Greeks were touching him
Their warship has attacked his home.
They attacked his city
They were touching him.
Disgust and rage and fear was all he felt.
Connor held his arms steady while Travis took off the shackles.
Octavian was screaming. Screaming.
Half thought out sentences and half panicked insults spewed from his lips like water gushing from a crack in a dam.
He was scared.
He didn't know what they planned to do with him.
He ignored the tears congregating in his eyes. They meant nothing.
He ignores the terror coiled in his stomach like a snake. It meant nothing.
He ignores the pulsing fear he felt when they were near him. It meant nothing
They certainly didn't ignore it.
He is less than a prisoner of war.
He is their enemy . Who they can punish however they think fit for his crimes.
They have no reason to keep him alive and unharmed.
The shackles were off his wrists.
The sons of Mercury Hermes left his prison.
Octavian collapsed to the floor, scooting against the wall, before he backed into the corner. His arms were wrapped around himself, and his knees pulled to his chest.
He ignored the tears running down his cheeks. They meant nothing.
He was ignoring the consistent, uncontrollable tremor in his hands, he told himself that it was from wearing the shackles for so, so long.
He knew he was lying.
They knew he was lying.
But he wasn't ready to accept any other explanation.
Besides, they were already screaming at that he was weak. That he was a failure to Rome.
He will never admit to crying after they left.
He would never admit to any sort of weakness for a long, long time.
He didn't eat the food provided, it was probably poisoned.
They told him that.
He didn't want to believe them.
After what felt like eons, but was likely not ever a day, he decided to eat.
He needed nutrients.
Poisoned or not, he needed nutrients.
He managed to stomach a bread roll and a glass of water before anxiety all but consumed him.
The food was not poisoned, but our dear protagonist had no way of knowing that.
He didn't eat any after that.
He didn't touch the food again.
He couldn’t bring himself to eat anything else.
He didn't want to die.
He might have been in hell, but he didn't want to die
~0~
Octavian is described as insane in The Blood Of Olympus. His laughter is described as brittle. He wouldn't listen to reason and didn't notice his robes were snagged.
~0~
Octavian ends up losing even anything even resembling hope that anyone will save him. That someone will break him out.
He’s trapped .
He’s a prisoner .
He just screams at anyone who comes near him, but it's all a bluff. If you take even a step towards him he cowers against the wall, his screaming more frantic.
His body language terrified.
He cries uncontrollably if you get any closer.
He is scared.
They are screaming that he will be killed.
They won't leave him alone.
They won't be quiet.
They will not shut up.
Now, to clear up any misunderstandings, the Greeks did not wish for him to be killed.
Some may have. To be perfectly honest, it is likely a great number wished for Octavian's quick demise. But not the majority.
They decided to wait for punishment. Octavian was very obviously not in his right mind.
~0~
Those in camp Jupiter never particularly liked Octavian. He was a nice kid at first, but grew cynical with age.
He grew paranoid and manipulative.
He changed.
No one liked him enough to visit a screaming teenager who will accuse them of treason.
No one would bother to care.
Not even Michael Kahale.
Who, at one point would have said he loved Octavian.
But that point was long past.
No one came to see Octavian for days, other than the routine meals, no one entered his prison.
Unlike Chris Rodriguez, there was no Clarrise to stay with him. He was alone.
On the fifth day of residing in the basement, of being held in a makeshift prison, a Greek demigod named Pollux came to visit.