Notes: I'm done, I'm done, I'm done! XD Three days past the due date, but that's honestly an achievement for me.

And I know, this is slightly cliffhangery for an ending, but a complete story of what happens and how would mean a multichapter fic with a plot, and I simply do not have the resources to attempt such a thing. :/ Apologies.

But thank you all for sitting through this collection of randomish drabbles. :) They were fun to write.


Title: Sacrifices

Prompt: Adjective; Ambition

Word Count: 496


The Senatorial chamber is halfway near spooky at this time of the night. Columns jump out from shadows with no warning, and the seats are less like prize and more like silent accusers. But while the work is not particularly complicated, it is delicate. Not something he would trust to a minion.

Oh yes. He had minions now. People who resented the Greeks barging into their sanctum, others who thought Jason was getting a little too cozy with their (ex) mortal enemies to ever be comfortable with them, but mostly people who were fed up with the sheer amount of drama that had been happening in the Senate lately. It made him look like the sanest option, and Romans were always willing to rally behind a cause they thought was worthy. Be it gladiator tournament green-lighting or toppling of people in power. It was genetic, really.

And with the essence of Eris- dealt out carefully- everyone was at the end of their diplomatic prowess. He adored this little bit of sparkly golden powder, he really did. Eris (Discord) was going to be his patron saint when he finally got his due. Conflict was a wonderful tool, and with his words, doubly as effective.

He dusted off the last of it (he really should have searched for something like this before- it was amazingly useful) and straightened up, studying the praetors' chairs in all their muted glory.

Gaea's gathering her forces. The giants are still there, and as long as she wakes, they can be rebirthed. This is probably not the time for internal conflicts.

Too bad.

His plans were coming into fruition. Reyna cannot look at McLean without her hounds growling under their breath. Valdez gets antsy every time Jason talks to his old comrades. Jason's memory is still coming in patches, and he forgets people and forgets events- and they understand the reasons why, but that doesn't stop them from trusting him any less.

Chase tries to keep them together, she really does. But she's no politician- she's too stubborn, too paranoid, too proud- to actually be an effective liaison. Jackson, he admits, has charisma. But that is pretty much all he has, thank the gods. He might have been in real trouble otherwise.

Oh, it's not like he's condemning the planet to destruction or anything. He knows that whatever his position, eventually the seven and everyone else will band together to fight the good fight. A small thing like a person they loathed being at the top of the commander food-chain would do little to stop that. Jason and Chase, in particular, would balk before allowing such a thing.

After all, they were heroes. Heroes did the right thing, yes?

Octavian steepled his fingers, and leaned back on the Praetor's chair –throne, really, and it might not be his yet, but it soon will be- with a smile. He had his goals, and the world could take care of itself once he had attained them.