A/N: Oh my goodness, you guys!

Your reviews were so beautiful, and wonderful, and incredible, as usual!

I really, really, really appreciate you all, you don't even know how much brighter you guys make my life.

That being said, I wanna give a quick shoutout to "KarmaButAceInAPortal", in part because of their hilarious review, and in part because of their name. I really like it, you don't expect it to roll off the tongue very well, but it does. Where did you get your name? Like, how did you come up with it? Because it's so weird, in the best way possible. Let me know in a review, so everyone else can see, if you want to. (Or just DM me, whatever works for you.)

Also a note to AquaEclipse: yes, exactly, a character study. That's kinda why I decided to write this, because I really wanted to do a character study on Octavian, and this is the only way I know how. And, if any of you do a character study on Octavian as well, in any form, please let me know. Because I will want to read it immediately.

Also, remember one of SonofTartarus666's reviews from way back, about understanding that Octavian has to be brought to full health before being put on trial?

Yeah, about that. . .

TW: mentions of death, explicit gore, mishandling of medical conditions/injuries, choking, implied panic attacks/hallucinations (sort of)


Octavian didn't know where he was anymore, just that there was just too much noise, and too many lights, and too much pain.

He was floating, somehow, trapped in that daze between sleep and wakefulness. He groaned, a quiet, desperate little thing, and someone grasped his hand tightly.

He startled, nearly pulling away, but the haze hanging over him kept him from doing anything other than letting out a small, confused whine.

But there was, he realized, a particular place he could almost pinpoint that would explain the source of the brightest light, and the noise, it was a resounding, almost thundering, chattering. Hundreds of people talking, whispering, yelling.

There was an intense heat near him, and he could feel himself struggling to breathe through the smoke it produced. Ironically, it made him begin to shiver violently, his breaths wheezing and flinching with each convulsion.

The hand gripped tighter, almost desperate. He wanted to peel open his eyes to see who was touching him, where the clamour was coming from, what the source of the heat was.

But somehow he knew he wouldn't be able to open his eyes no matter how much he wished to. He was simply too exhausted.

He was actually beginning to drift off- for once without the aid of his ever-present IV line (there was no pinch on the back of his hand)- and darkness was enveloping him like an impossibly soft blanket when he startled awake again, shaky breaths almost silently gasping for air.

Octavian.

That sickly sweet voice had returned, and with it the intermittent pain in his back, and the persistent feverish tingle dancing relentlessly over his skin, drowning out everything else.

He tried to lash out, but only managed to pull his hand a few mere inches toward the voice.

Octavian.

"No," he muttered, his heart bashing against his ribcage and blood roaring in his ears. He felt sick, hot bile rising in his throat and eyes beginning to burn.

He tried in vain to lash out again, and felt his hand fall off the edge of whatever it was he was on.

"Octavian."

And all at once the voice was gone, replaced now by a gentler one, and all the noise burst back into his senses like a bubble popping.

He realized that the voice was right above him, rather than anywhere, everywhere around him.

Somehow, he found the strength to slit open his eyes, greeted by the sight of Percy Jackson's worried yet resenting face, inches from his own.

His heart didn't slow in the least, panic twisting sickeningly in his stomach.

"Jackson," he murmured hoarsely, swallowing the thick bile still coating his tongue .

A trace of relief made its way onto Jackson's face, his lips hinting at a smile, "Hey, you're okay. We're bringing you in front of the campers; we're all at the campfire."

Octavian coughed, still gasping for air. "Everyone?" he breathed, grimacing at the thought of so much hate in one place.

"Yeah," Jackson replied, oblivious to Octavian's dread. "We're all here for you."

Octavian frowned, still struggling to breathe, "Why-?" He squeezed the hand holding his, "Who-?"

"It's only me, Octavian," Reyna's patient voice came from somewhere behind him.

"Where-?" Octavian swallowed, trying to wet his parched throat. "Where's Chiron?"

"Well, right now, he's trying to get everyone to quiet down so we can start," Percy replied, a hint of amusement colouring his tone.

"How are you feeling?"

What?

Octavian coughed, shook his head a little, "I don't understand-"

"The truth, Octavian," Reyna elaborated. "I want to know if anything feels any worse than before."

He coughed again, feeling very much like his lungs were being wrung out, "Thirsty. Can't breathe."

"That's probably because of the bonfire," Percy muttered.

"I don't suppose there's any way to put it out?" Reyna asked him. "If we still wish to do this as we discussed."

"No," Percy agreed grimly.

Octavian's eyes were slipping closed again, his energy diminishing once more.

"Hey, no," Percy said, shaking him a little. "We need you awake for this."

Octavian could only cough again in response.

"Percy!" Chiron's voice suddenly rose over the barely-contained clamour of demigods. "We're ready."

"Okay," Percy spoke softly into his ear as two arms snaked around either side of his waist, lifting him up. "You don't have to do anything. Just stay awake."

A whimper escaped Octavian's lips as his head began to pound, and someone mumbled an apology. Still, they carried him to what Octavian could only assume was the middle of the ampitheatre.

His feet dragged uselessly along the ground, his head hanging limply between his shoulders. He was glad that, at least this time, they knew to support his back; he didn't want to find out how much more stretching his stitches would tolerate.

He felt, rather than heard, the hush that almost immediately fell over the assembled demigods. Vaguely, he felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment when he realized that it was not only Greeks who had gathered to judge him, but also Romans. Former fellow campers.

His heart sped up again, pressing painfully against his ribcage, and another whimper escaped his lips.

The fire must have nearly gone out (a reaction to the camper's surprise, a quiet voice in the back of his mind informed him), because he almost didn't feel the heat now. Relieved, he breathed deeply, grateful for the fresh air.

Someone- Reyna, he assumed- gently rubbed their thumb over his hand.

"This," he heard Chiron say, loud enough that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that every camper would hear him, "is what remains of a young boy who has fallen prey to the temptation of power. A temptation which I am certain many of us, myself included, would fall prey to, given the proper circumstances.

"And if it is not power, then it is most certainly something else. All of us- present or otherwise- has a crippling weakness. Some of us fall, and some of us manage not to- at least. for a little. Because we shall all eventually fall. What do you suspect your fellow campers would do, if and when any of you do indeed fall?

"As I am confident many of you would agree: here, we are family, we protect one another, keep each other close, because we must. Because without that tight-knit quality of family, we would not be able to protect one another, to survive in the often cruel world in which demigods find themselves thriving in.

"That said, I entreat you to think about such a reality of power and struggle in application to your fellow camper: Octavian. He had fallen prey to his temptation, yes, but does he deserve the wrath of demigods? Should he be treated any differently from any other demigod who has been driven into darkness? Think of Ethan Nakamura; think of Luke Castellan; think of Chris Rodriguez."

Several moments passed before suddenly the fire was flaring up again, and once more smoke was filling Octavian's lungs, and he was gasping desperately for breath, raising his head in a vain attempt to clear his airway.

He heard heard a muffled voice call his name as his head rolled back, his eyes following suit.

The last thing he remembered was the intense heat and the collapsed feeling in his chest before everything went black.


He dreamt of fire and mud and ice and earth consuming both camps as he stood in the middle of it all, doubled over, manic laughter tumbling from his lips and hot tears streaming down his face.

He dreamt- no, knew- that the fate of both camps had been in his hands, and only his.

Everything had collapsed because of him.

He dreamt of Chiron- face streaked with blood and dirt and tears, standing before him, eyes steely and furious and filled with overwhelming grief.

Chiron was terrifying when he was furious, he had been told by one of his spies.

He saw now, beyond a doubt, that the spy had been absolutely right.

With a swiftly growing sense of dread and panic, Octavian drew away from the centaur, only for the powerful teacher to advance on him with a palpable determination.

Octavian tripped in his haste to retreat, hitting the ground with a condemning thump. He stifled a scream when his back flared up, shooting pain through the very marrow of his bones.

Chiron only glowered and raised his bow- his weapon of choice, Octavian knew- an arrow long since nocked in place.

Octavian managed to realize what Chiron was doing mere moments before he was pulling back the bowstring, aiming it directly at him.

"You killed my family," was all Chiron said before firing straight through Octavian's chest.


Octavian gasped awake to fingers on his throat and shouts resounding all around him as he lay on the hard ground. He let out a silent string of coughs, breathing hard.

"He's got a pulse," he heard someone say, but it sounded distant, as if it was being spoken through twenty layers of cotton.

"What's his bpm?" another voice asked.

A few moments passed before the first person replied grimly, "Sixty. He's suffering from serious arrhythmia and bradycardia."

"Thank you, Nico," the second voice said, grateful. A hand touched his bicep tentatively, another gently cradling his face, "Octavian, can you try to look me, please?"

"Will, he flat-lined for nearly five minutes. I doubt he can even hear you."

"Thank you, Nico," and this time the second voice was practically dripping with sarcasm.

"He requires medical attention," a third voice interrupted, right behind him. "We must get him to infirmary immediately."

"Right," the second voice said."Nico, get him back on the stretcher. Be as gentle as you can, please."

He was lifted and placed carefully on something lax and obscurely soft. He groaned weakly when his stitches flared in protest.

"Octavian?" the second voice said in hopeful surprise. "Can you hear me?"

Octavian wheezed some semblance of affirmation, managing with herculean effort to move his arm a few inches; his body felt as if it were made of lead.

A hand took his, gripping it desperately, and a new voice- kind and a regal sort of feminine- spoke softly into his ear, "You're going to be okay, Octavian. I need you to promise me- make a vow- that you will stay alive. If for nobody else, do it for me. I want you alive; you are my friend and our augur. Stay alive."

He managed a weak affirmation before he felt himself being lifted, and carried off.

Her hand did not slip away.


A/N: Thank you all- for the thousand time (sorry, I'm just still startled by it all)- for responding so tremendously and amazingly, and for your awesome, encouraging feedback. I really do appreciate you guys taking the time out your day to tell my lack of self-esteem how I'm doing xD.

A special, special thank you to my devoted reviewers; you are incredibly magnificent.

But seriously, I hope you guys enjoyed this one, because we're almost done.

Whaaaaaat?!

Weird, right?

I'm just kidding; I'm just feeling particularly zany today, for some reason.

Anyway, (again), please let me know what y'all think (not that you really haven't, wow), and I'll try to get the next one up as soon as possible.

Ciao for now. . . why? What is up with me today?