Chapter Text
Octavian Moreau was, for once, not plotting or being a perfect charmer. Not manipulating senators, bending auguries to his father's ambition, or messing around with people he didn't like.
The centurion of the First Cohort and augur-in-training turned princeps of New Rome, son of Janus, legacy of Apollo—titles that usually clung to him like a second skin—meant absolutely nothing in that moment.
Because Octavian, the so-called rising power behind New Rome’s new regime, currently looked like a disaster. He was completely, utterly out like daylight being dead asleep in his messy personal tent in the Roman encapment outside Camp Half Blood.
A thin sheet barely covered his lanky yet atheletic frame as he sprawled face-down across his bedroll, completely butt naked, limbs loosely tangled like he’d collapsed mid-thought on his chest and never recovered. His back was a faint patchwork of scars. The portable AC in the corner blasted relentlessly, turning the tent into an artificial oasis against the outside heatwave—but even that hadn’t been enough to make him sleep gracefully.
His dark hair was sticking up in every possible direction, longer than regulation allowed, like he’d lost a fight with a storm. His hands were under the pillow and face was pressed sideways into it, cheek squished, lips parted. A thin line of drool trailed embarrassingly from the corner of his mouth as he snored softly first then.Then uneven again, like his body couldn’t even decide how to rest properly.
“...Le mien ne l'est pas....mm” he mumbled in his sleep, voice thick and slurred, words slipping out in Cantonese without any of the smooth control he usually wielded. “… Non... attends.…”
His fingers twitched faintly beneath the pillow, clutching at nothing. 2 days of exhaustion had finally caught up to him. Schemes, negotiations, quiet power plays alongside his mother—the push to tighten their grip over New Rome after the political coup takeover and wage war on the barbaric Greeks after a long cross country march to restore the Olympians free from their bipolar disorders and restore Rome's glory—it had all demanded too much, too fast. Sleep and rest had become an afterthought until his body simply shut down despite his divine and Chinese genes. Even tho tomorrow was supposed to be the auspicious day of the war to start: the Ides of August.
Now, sprawled there in the dim light of his tent, Octavian looked far less like a cunning political prodigy. And far more like the sleep-deprived teenager Tav who had pushed himself past his limits and crashed hard. Pale skin and dark circles carved under his closed eyes, stark against his complexion. Still he dreamt.
The Colosseum of New Rome blazed with color, transformed for the Agonalia—banners of Janus hung from every arch, gold and crimson catching the light. Rock music thundered through the arena, loud and electric, shaking the very stone beneath his feet.
And at the center of it all was Tav himself.
He was draped in a garnet winter toga thrown carelessly over his armor as he dropped his final line as Octavius Ceaser in the stage adaption of Shakespeare's Julius Ceaser ordering Brutus' burial for being an honorable Roman.
No sooner did he did.The crowd of New Rome roared for him, thousands on their feet, chanting, waving placards with his name and photo.
“TAV! TAV! TAV!”
He smirked and blew a kiss while catching a flower bouquet and dodging a bra thrown at him by a romantic fan. “ Merci folks. Yeah, yeah, keep it coming. There's more from where this come from.”
With a flick of his wrist, space itself bent. The air warped behind him—fracturing into glowing, geometric distortions that pulsed in rhythm with the music as the other actors all came onto the stage to do their final bows.
The cheers grew deafening. Then the music abruptly stop. Octavian stilled mid-motion of waving, irritation and anger flashing across his face as he turned.
“Really now? Who the fuck did that?” he snapped.
Standing at the edge of the arena floor was Micheal Kahale, the buff son of Venus and fellow 1st cohort member. His thick arms folded, deadpanning as always.
“You have petitioners, princeps” Micheal said flatly. “They’re begging for your guidance.”
Tav rolled his eyes dramatically, throwing his hands up.
"Oh, génial! Because that couldn’t wait five minutes?” His voice sharpened, bratty, biting. “Do I look like I’m in the mood for diplomacy right now, Kahale? Fine just bring them in.”
The air around him warped harder, space bending more aggressively with his annoyance—edges of reality flickering like a glitch.
“Honestly, the audacity—”
He stopped when he realized who were walking in.
Boos erupted instantly from the crowds. Loud, vicious, relentless. People began to throw rotten food, cans and bottles instead of flowers. Tav's irritation melted into pure amusement.
“Well well,” he breathed, a slow, delighted grin spreading across his face. “This is damn rad. To what do I owe this visit from our chosen champions?"
The Seven of the Argo II and the shamed ex tribunal Reyna were the ones who were visiing. They stepped forward— clearly hesitant and humiliated and looking worse for wear than ever.
Jason stepped forward first. Of course he did. “Tavy,” the son of Jupiter began, voice careful, measured. “We were wrong. I— I should've..m”
Tav's grin vanished. “Don’t,” he scoffed. “Just—don’t. I can do better than your sympathy, Jason.”
Jason faltered. “I’m trying to fix this. We are brothers—”
“Ah yes brothers by everything but blood cuz my mother adopted you. How nice of you to recall that after feigning to not know who I was and humiliating me in the senate. So how are you gonna fix it, big bro?” Octavian tilted his head, expression almost curious. “Pretending none of it happened? Acting like I’m supposed to just… accept it?”
“That’s not what I’m doing.” said Jason, his princely polite facade cracking and showing the irtiation underneath. Just a fragment of the real entitled control freak side of the great imperator of the legion and champion of Juno that always reared up like a predator when things didn't go his way.
“Oh, really?” Tav sneered. “Because it sounds a lot like you’re trying to make yourself feel better and in the right as usual.”
Jason’s jaw tightened at being caught. “I’m apologizing.”
"And I’m saying fuck you and declining to condescend.” noted Tav giving him the finger. “See? We’re both getting what we want.”
"C'mon man. Don't be like that." began Percy.
That was enough for Tav to veer onto the filthy son of Poseidon.
“No you don't be like that, man. I don't recall asking you spew trash like you usually do, ocean dumpster.”
Percy frowned. “Now listen ”
“Nope.” Tav cut in. “Forgive me if I don't pretend whata big fraud you are in the name of a good loyal hero. You swoop in like a main character, everyone falls over themselves because you’re the direct child of a major Olympian. The ones who coddle you the most turn into your inner circle and suddenly rise in prominence and those who don't respect you make their lives hell with your hatred and intimidation tatics.”
His expression turned dark. “Exactly what you did to me when I questioned your credibility. You and your gang turned me into your punching bag. After all I’m just the poor, average son of a minor god, with some distant Apollo blood no one cares about.”
Percy’s expression hardened. “That’s not why—”
“AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE ASSISTANT TRIBUNAL ELECTION.” Octavian’s eyes gleamed. “I WORKED MY ASS OFF FOR THAT FOR MONTHS TO WIN. ONLY FOR YOU WHO DIDN'T EVEN HAVE A MONTH OF EXPERIENCE IN THE LEGION OR TRY TO BE ROMAN GET IT JUST CUZ YOU HOPPED OFF HAZEL AND FRANK IN ALASKA AND THREW TERMINUS' HEAD AT POLYBOTES. I COULD EITHER FASTER AND BETTER THAN YOU. BUT NO YOU HAD TAKE THAT CUZ YOU HAD TO LEAD AND KNEW YOU WOULD NEVER GET JASON'S POSITION AS THE IMPERATOR. AFTER ALL HE WAS THE FIRST ONE WHO GOT THAT RANK IN A CENTURY THAT AFTER 4 YEARS OF QUESTS.”
Then, he reigned himself. “But perhaps I also need to support the elephant in the room for that election."
A ripple of support went through the crowd.
Tav turned, attention shifting. “That being Reyna,” he called, voice bright with mock warmth. “Our great ex tribunal.”
Reyna’s posture stiffened. “Octavian I swear—”
“I see you are still ready to lecture me about the best of Rome,” he sneered. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you just let the Despacito track in your head driving you towards hot boys make your decisions for you. Yet when I even flirt you lecture me on boundaries?”
"That's the last straw." Reyna’s eyes flashed as she reached for her sword. Only for it to warped away with Octavian's spatial powers. See now you tried to murder me for hitting the nail in hard” Tav scoffed bitterly. “But that is the truth. You let Percy become your asstiant tribunal cuz he was your type. You favored Jason as your quest partner because he was your type too. You even abandoned your duties and left for the ancient lands as soon as both sent you a letter.”
He then noticed Piper grumbling under her breath. “Bonjour Madame Misogynist”
Piper straightened slightly, wary.
“Thank you for your attention. You really like hearing and getting what you want, don’t you?” he said. “Twisting people with that smooth voice of yours until they say and agree to exactly what fits your narrative.”
“I only do what is necessary.”
“Nope you do what is favorable for you and then pretend to be good,” he corrected lightly. “You, Annabeth and Jason actually have that in common and perhaps that's why you are together. Perhaps take a page in humilty and look at yourselves in the mirror once.”
Jason flinched and Annabeth bristled violently.
Octavian had already moved on. “Leo.”
His tone shifted—Mongolian slipping in effortlessly, sharp and biting. “Avez-vous déjà pensé à la route ?” he said coldly. “Ou bien n'était-ce qu'une « erreur » de faire exploser Rome et d'essayer de me tuer?”
Leo blinked, thrown. “Uh—”
"Take some Duolingo lessons and think about you did.,” he continued, turning smoothly. “ Oh hello Zhang.”
The chubby clutz son of Mars shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with his baggy hoodie.
Octavian grinned. “Now now my great warrior don't be so awakard. You’ve always looked at me like I’m some kind of a villianous popular normie” he said. “Whatever narrative helps your cowardly heart sleep at night. It's high time you quit playing the victim game and ”
“That's not true—” began Frank flushed trying to counter but failing when Tavi simply cracked his fists.
“Hazel.”
Hazel met Tav's gaze with those beautiful golden irises on that elegant face framed by dark curls, quieter than the others. That was enough to set bazookas
“You had options,” Octavian said, tone almost thoughtful and geninuely sad as he looked away blushing a bit. “You could’ve chosen differently.”
She frowned slightly. “What are you talking about?”
Unbelievable.
“You know what. My offer,” Tav noted scowling at her “Alliance. Partnership. My...my feelings.”
Tav regretted speaking up.
Frank made a strangled, outraged hurt noise—
That was the good opening for Tav not address what he just said. He flipped Frank off too and then addressed the group jointly. "So tell me after all this. Why should I help your lot?"
For a moment, silence regined and it seemed like they might start groveling and aplogizing.
Instead Percy and Jason straightened as did the others.
“We’re trying to do the right thing,” Reyna said, her voice firming with that familiar, aggravating righteousness. “This isn’t about pride, Octavian.”
Leo nodded, “You can’t just hold onto grudges when the world is at stake, hermano.”
Annabeth crossed her arms. “Morally, this isn’t complicated. You know what the right choice is and what Gaia can do.”
Octavian blinked before scowling in outrage.
“Oh, wow,” he scoffed. “That didn’t take long.”
Frank stepped forward, his voice heavier, more grounded—and somehow, that made it worse. “You’re choosing the wrong side. And deep down, you know it.”
Something in Octavian’s expression snapped. He was not getting lectured by a bottom feeder with no social life.
“Say that again, Zhang” he said, smile twitching.
Frank hesitated but looked in the eye. “You’re wrong.”
The air warped violently. Octavian’s eye twitched.
“I am this close—” he hissed, stepping forward, “I swear to Apollo, Zhang, I will kick you in the curb and send .”
He stopped just when he was about to lunge. Cuz their voices then began to change. Layering and overlapping.
Jason’s voice blurred into Percy’s, into Piper’s, into something else entirely—distorted, warped, echoing unnaturally.
The arena flickered, Micheal and the crowd dissolved into static.
Octavian froze, panic and realization dawning. It was the start of another of his prophetic visions.
The world cracked and sound splintered into a dozen overlapping whispers, rising, pressing in.
His breath hitched.“…Really?” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Now? You pick now?”
The shifting continued. He straightened slightly, rolling his shoulders as if bracing himself.
“Fine,” he said dryly. “Let’s get this over with.”
The arena vanished and was replaced by something far worse.
Blood, fire and screams in the midst of rumbling that didn’t quite sound human. Images slammed into him one after another—
Terra rising in her full might.
Massive. Unstoppable and bringing the apocalypse with her.
Both CHB and CJ falling apart at the seams.and his family's imperial takeover failing.
“No,” he said sharply. “No, that’s not possible."
The Seven and Reyna distorted, turning into something else entirely—
Spirits of beginning and end with voices of prophecy whom Tav was too familiar with.
They spoke over each other, layered, relentless—
“Beware the Ides of August. Doomed will be the attack on Camp Half-Blood—”
“The fall of the Moreau line— The name—your standing for generations—destroyed—”
Octavian staggered back, shaking his head violently.
“You will pay in your own blood—”
His chest tightened. “No that’s wrong,” he insisted, voice rising. “That’s completely wrong!.”
His hands clenched.
“My mother—” he choked out. “My mother isn’t wrong. We have Lord Apollo’s blessing. This is supposed to work. This is supposed to save Rome's honor and fix Olympus."
A yell tore out of him.
“YOU'LL ARE LYING TO ME!"
But they didn’t stop or change.
That broke something. Frustration, hatred and panic surged, sharp and suffocating, twisting into something uglier.
“I AM NOT LOSING TO THEM,” he hissed, breath uneven. “I am not dying for this—do you hear me?!”
His voice cracked. “I’m not—!”
His hands shook, rage and panic colliding, threatening to spill over into something violent, something uncontrollable—
Suddenly the spirits vanished and Tavi heard a single familiar voice.
“…Octavian.”
He froze.
That voice...he hadn’t heard it like this since infancy. Still it had burnt deep in his mind. Bitterness flooded in instantly, sharp and instinctive.
Slowly, he looked up.
Standing before him was his divine father Janus. The god of beginnings and endings. Of doorways and all transitions. Founder of Latium and father of the river gods Tibernius and Fontus. He was draped in a flowing garnet toga, a staff held firmly in his right hand with keys hanging from it, faintly clinking as if stirred by an unseen force. His eyes glowed, distorting space itself.
Two faces. One boyish, with wavy dark hair, features eerily similar to Tavi’s representing peace and the future. The other—older, stern, bearded, carved with age and authority representing war and the past.
Janus’s younger face lit up instantly, grinning like this was a casual parent child meetup instead of… whatever this was.“Yo, little man!” he said brightly, tone easy, almost playful. “Look at you! All grown up, doing your thing—kinda killing that look too not gonna lie. Are those Nike sneakers?”
Tav squinted at him.
Janus' younger face blinked. "Uh? You ok?"
“Fourteen years,” Octavian finally noted voice dry with accusation. “Out of sixteen you were gone and now you show up. Fantastic timing, truly.”
"I can explain-"
The older face snapped, voice cutting through sharply of the younger one. “Enough you fool.”
The younger face clicked his tongue, clearly annoyed, but fell silent.
“We do not have time for this, boy” the older one continued, stern and commanding. “There is much to discuss.”
That typical entitled godly tone. Something Tav was waiting to hear. It was just way better than hearing kindness and sympathy.
Then, with deliberate precision, Tav straightened slightly and spoke—
“Salve, deus Janus,” he greeted formally, voice laced with something just shy of mockery. “Quid me vis?”
A beat.
The younger face winced almost immediately.
“…Yeah, okay, that was definitely sarcasm,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck before looking back at him. “Hey—hey, Tavi, c’mon, don’t be like that. Let's talk yeah?”
“Silence,” the older face snapped again, irritation flaring as he pointed his staff at Octavian. “How dare you play around with me?"
Octavian’s eyes narrowed. “Oh?” he said lightly. “Indulge?”
He sneered. “I was under the impression that you gods expected respect and alliegance from mortals,” he continued. “Isn’t that how that usually works?”
His gaze flicked between the two faces.
“Or does that only apply when it’s convenient?And besides, you seem a bit… undecided.”
"Meaning?" asked the older face.
“Are you here as my father?” Tav asked. “Or another god?”
Something in Janus faltered.
A flicker. A split.
Then—
The older face surged forward, anger igniting.
“Insolent boy.”
The air warped violently.
Power lashed out—space itself twisting as Janus raised his staff to fire an dimension shattering explosion..
Octavian flinched and began back up relaizing he fucked up
But before the strike could land—
“Whoa—hey, no!”
The younger face forced itself forward, overtaking control and the distortion snapped, folding inward as the younger aspect seized the power entirely, forcibly suppressing it.
For a moment, both faces flickered before the older one vanished completely was gone.
The younger face exhaled sharply, shoulders dropping slightly as the conditions returned to normal. He looked at Tav carefully. “…You okay, Tav?” he asked, voice quieter this time but deeply concerned.
Octavian stared at him. Then let out a short, humorless laugh as his courage returned.
“Am I—” he repeated with a shaky voice. “You almost killed me.”
His brown eyes hardened as he looked away folding his arms. "I’m not talking to you.”
Janus sighed. “…Yeah,” he muttered. “That's fair.”
Then his voice lit up."But how about we talk like this?"
Without another word, the space around them shifted. The space folded in on itself—warping, bending until suddenly Tavi relaized he was on a penthouse balcony in New York.
A moist earthy breeze blew around them even tho the sky was a shade of sepia. A quiet camping setup arranged neatly under soft lights. The distant skyline glowed faintly beyond the railing.
At the same time, Janus' appearance shifted as his toga changed into cool camping gear while Tavi's toga vanished leaving him in his street dance wear.
A small grill flickered to life. Barbeque ingridents appeared—fresh, warm, unmistakably real and definitely spicy. Janus plopped down with a sigh, poking at it casually before glancing up.
“…C’mon,” he said happily, gesturing beside him. “Sit.”
Octavian didn’t move.
Janus raised a brow, then deliberately picked up a piece of food, letting the smell carry as he sang song." This rabbit meat isn't gonna finish itself~”
"I am not hungry." spat Tav.
GROWLLLL
Octavian’s stomach betrayed him.
Janus grinned. "Aw even you tummy says otherwise."
Tav cussed in French. A moment later, he walked over and dropped down beside him—stiff, reluctant.
He didn’t look at Janus. “One camping trip,” he said flatly, “is not going to fix fourteen years of you being a deadbeat.”
His jaw tightened. “And trying to kill me just now? Not helping your case.”
Janus winced slightly.
Octavian continued, sharper now. “And don’t even start with the I have a domain to maintain excuse,” he added, turning his head slightly. “Because you clearly had time to meet up with my mother to conceive me.”
Silence.
“Jupiter,” Octavian went on, voice edged, “lord of the skies, king of the Olympians—still managed to talk to Jason.”
His lip curled faintly. "And he’s supposedly the busiest, most unbiased god of all time, right?”
He let out a short breath. "So what’s your excuse?”
For a moment, Janus said nothing as the barbecue baked on. He let out a small, almost sheepish chuckle.
“…Okay, that’s—yeah, that’s a hit. Btw that jacket's off shoulder style shouldn't you may be wear it a bit down.” he noted adjusting Tav's jacket lower exposing more of his black tanktop and shoulders.
Tav frowned at the fashion advice. He already knew that style but never wore it cuz his mother called it too non Roman.
Janus caught the irritation scratched the side of his head, glancing at him.
“But,” he added lightly, “what about the prophetic messengers I sent? They helped your auguries and prepared you for the future improving your rise in the legion ”
"Oh, sure,” Octavian snapped. “Tormenting me with those things? Real helpful.”
His voice dropped, bitter. “You know the first time I saw one?” he asked. “During an epileptic fit as a 4 yr old child. And those fits kept coming till I was a pre teen. Do you have any idea how much people including Jason looked down and bullied me for it?"
Janus’s expression faltered. Octavian didn’t stop.
"And even after that? Those helpful visions always seem to point against what I wanted or against me. Including now when I literally set up to die.”
His hands clenched. “Other times it's about someone else getting the spotlight. Someone else getting the happy ending and glory. 7 out of 10 times. It was Jason and his allies. At least the others make sense. They’re powerful demigods. Wildcards.”
His expression twisted slightly.
“But Frank Zhang too?” he scoffed. “That clutz panda who can't even look into others' eye while talking?"