He felt as if he had been walking for hours before Livia finally led him a stretch of sunlight. It was a small crevice that he picked at to get out. He was standing over a large cliff, but none of that really mattered in comparison to the fresh air that he breathed in. The sun cradled him in its embrace as if rejoicing the fact that he wasn't stuck in those stuffy catacombs any longer.

"Ahh if it isn't little Astyanax Octavius," came a voice from behind him. "One of the Traitors to Roma. Siding with those Graeci."

Octavian turned, blanching lightly as he realized just where he was. The Tarpeian Rock where murderers, traitors, perjurors, and larcenous slaves, if convicted by the quaestores parricidii, were flung from the cliff to their deaths.

And considering Astyanax was the name of Hector's son... Octavian lifted his eyes to the speaker. The blood rush away from his heart to something else.

A bearded man with curly brown hair, perfect teeth, and brilliant blue eyes. He wore nothing, but a lion hide which should be concerning for the people of Roma but he was a bit thankful for it. His golden abs formed such a six-pack Octavian imagined he could see the pop-top tabs. With an immensely bored expression, using only two fingers, he twirled a six-foot-long poleax. His hands were huge and rough, callused as if he'd been punching brick walls in his spare time with a bit of moisturizer and a cream from his Mother's notes, Octavian could fix that up, but he did like a man that could rough him up a bit. Strapped to the inside of his calf was a sheathed dagger.

Octavian wanted to savour him like fine wine.

"Who are you?" He breathed, eyes trailing over his body not even caring about the fact that he wanted to kill him. The man was beautiful. He was the very model of athletic perfection—his body lithe and muscular, his golden hair in ringlets around his Olympian face. He could give Jason a run for his money and a part of Octavian hated that he thought that, but it was true.

"I am Hercules."

Octavian snorted softly. "A knock-off version sure. Lady Juventas will kick your ass for pretending to be her husband." He looked him up and down before the name hit him. He was the literal man of his dreams. "Emperor Commodus. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"I...no. I am much too important to die so I became a god." Commodus frowned. "And you're boring me," Commodus added, "which is punishable by death."

And then Commodus punched him square in the chest. Octavian staggered backward and collapsed on his butt, his lungs on fire, his sternum throbbing. He felt his very much bruised and cracked ribs break under the assault.

"What the fuck," he wheezed.

Commodus laughed, but Octavian struggled to his feet, crying in pain. He wouldn't die here, and he wouldn't let that idiot kill him. Not all hot people deserved rights! He pushed the emperor like a chihuahua in the face of a great dane, but to their mutual surprise, Octavian actually managed to shove him off-balance. He stumbled and landed on his armor-plated rear, leaving his sword quivering in the pavement.

"You know, I was going to forgive you for your crimes and offer you a place at my side," the god-emperor snarled. "I would rule the Midwest forever as a god-emperor. I was going to rename it 'Commodianapolis'." He smiled beautifully at that absolutely stupid and fucking atrocious ass name and Octavian was offended that he actually had to hear it. "I would have given you all kinds of political power and control of all of America. But now..." He smiled. Commodus tugged his own sword free of the asphalt. "But now, Astyanax while this has been fun, you need to die now." He charged. Octavian ducked under it and kicked him in the back.

Octavian stared at him unamused before kicking his knee out from under him. Off-balance, Commodus slashed wildly. Octavian blocked his arm and punched him in the nose, causing a brittle squish that he found delightfully disgusting. In the background, Livia was cheering though she didn't discriminate on who she was cheering for.

Commodus yowled, blood streaming through his mustache. "U duhh stike bee? I kilb u!"

"You won't kilb me!" Octavian mocked. "The only way I'm dying today is if Athena herself kill me!"

"HA!" Commodus cried. "We'I cee! Sides I'm stih bigguh!"

Ugh, hot people should just shut up but then again, he'd never hear Jason's voice again so he could probably make exceptions.

He barreled towards him once more. He didn't give him the chance to duck this time, but Octavian still managed to dodge to the side. For a man his size, he moved much too fast.

Dammit! Octavian was going have to start back training with leg weights.

"We should have just let Livia live if we wanted to rule correctly," the emperor growled, turning to him once more with fire that could burn the sun in his eyes.

"What," Octavian breathed, glancing over at his sister who raised a brow back at him.

Commodus charged at him once more. This time he was smart enough not to announce himself by howling, unfortunately, screaming mortals did it for him. By the time Octavian noticed him bearing down—blood bubbling from his nostrils, a deep guardrail-shaped groove in his forehead—it was too late. He slammed his fist into his gut. Octavian collapsed in a moaning, boneless heap.

Commodus sat above Octavian, his hands wrapped almost tenderly around his throat. He was saying something, but Octavian wasn't listening. He wasn't even mentally there. He was back in New Roma, lying on cum-stained latin sheets. New Roma University's President Rufus sat above him and his 15 years younger but still a decade older than Octavian mistress laid on his side. She pressed kisses into his skin, fingers fiddling with his nipples as Rufus fucked into him roughly, hands squeezing around the boy's neck.

(Octavian needed his vote, or the scholarship kids would lose funding.)

A hand tapped him on the face harshly. "You know the last time I was in a position like this... it was Phoebus above me instead." The emperor tilted his head towards the heavens. "It all comes back full circle, doesn't it?" He laughed, looking back at Octavian. "You know my last words to him was 'You Blessed Me' and he killed me anyway." He reached inside of his toga, pulling out an arrow with an oak shaft and green fletching. "He gave me this as a gift, you know. For our anniversary." His eyes were soft as he looked at it, one hand still pressed firmly on Octavian's throat. "He said that it was a gift from his own grandmother, Lady Ops from the Grove of Dodona. You know the one that was burned by that upstart Theodosius the Lame, who ordered the last oak cut down. Of course, the grove has regrown itself around that Camp filled with greeks, but we'll fix that shortly."

"Why..." Octavian gasped as his vision double. That same arrow being held in his own hand before the vision fizzled out.

"Hm? The emperor tilted his head until he realized that Octavian's eyes were on the arrow. "Oh, well, his grandmother gave him the arrow stating that it would be needed for one of his line that his blessing."

Oh, great. He gets knowledge of a divine weapon that apparently belonged to him right as he was about to die.

"I think I will gift this to your pretty little sister," Commodus smiled, nodding his head over at Livia who was watching the proceedings in boredom. "I'll admit people with no Y chromosomes are not of my taste, but her bright blue eyes and amazing physique was splendid. At least with her, I can correct a mistake that I made with the empire of failing to produce an heir even if I have no need for one."

Octavian felt himself overcome with rage that Commodus noted with a pretty smile.

"Of course, if she does not satisfy me, then I can have my share with your darling cousin, Annia. It'll be like old times and marrying a distant cousin and this one will have me blood related to the legacy of Troy."

Commodus gave a ghastly smile. His eyes glittered with hatred.

Octavian didn't know where he gained the strength considering ever bruise and broken bone in his body, but he rolled the two of them over until he was on top. His legs were straddling his chest, his hands wrapped around his throat. Commodus fought, but his fists were like paper.

Commodus was strong. Even in Octavian's weakened state, he thrashed and fought but gained no ground. Octavian felt a rush of power flow through him—something he had only felt a few times... when he was in the presence of a god as rare as it was. A powerful divine force rendering a vital gift of strength at a critical moment.

Eyes glittering with hatred and crying tears of gold, Octavian let loose a guttural roar—a song with only one note: pure rage — as he pushed the emperor over the cliff. He snarled as his eyes widen, body crumbling to ash as he fell. Octavian made sure to look him in the eyes as he said: "And I. Curse. You."

(If Octavian had the power to read minds, he would have known that the last thing that Commodus could think was of how much the boy looks very much like his forefather.)

Octavian struggled to his feet, stopping in place when he took note of the arrow that had flung across the ground in their struggle. He stared at it silently, remembering the emperor's words. It would be needed for a legacy of Apollo with his blessing.

He really hoped that it was him.

Octavian stumbled back into the small tunnel and rested against the wall, trying to breathe through his injuries. The sound of clapping filled the tunnel and Octavian turned slowly; a bit tired from it all.

But after seeing Commodus and all his biceps, triceps and all other kinds of ceps, seeing this man was just an insult to every god and goddess of beauty that walked the earth. Aphrodite, Venus, the Graces, the Nereids and all the other names and forms that they took would be disgusted.

To go from that to this?

The man that walked to cavern appeared to be no more than thirty, but it was a hard thirty, his face haggard and his belly distended from too much partying. His mouth was fixed in a permanent sneer. His curly hair extended into a wraparound neck beard. His chin was so weak that Octavian was sure that just poking it would have it sink into itself.

He tried to compensate for his ugliness with an expensive Italian suit of purple wool, his gray shirt open to display gold chains. His shoes were hand-tooled leather, not the sort of thing to wear while stomping around in old dusty tunnels.

"Who are you," Octavian murmured, leaning against the wall.

"I am known by many names," he smiled. "But my favorite one of all is Apollo."

"If you're Apollo, then I'm Jove." Octavian snorted. He looked him and thought about the words. Caligula had stated that he was his nephew. And there was only one other idiot in Ancient Roma that laid claim to being a sun god.

"Emperor Nero," He said. "The Beast." The worst of his ancestors. The Christians called him the Beast because he burned them alive. (And they also got his number wrong. It was 616, not 666 but whatever.) Nero had been the last of the Julian line. Well, the last of the dynasty as the line continued on after him considering that Octavian was alive and well... well enough.

He curled his lip. "Nero will do. It's good to see you, my boy. I have to thank for destroying my unruly uncle and that idiot as I have no inherited all of their power making the sole Neo Helios."

Octavian rolled his eyes. Oh, great. This again.

"It's always good to meet another legacy of Apollo," the emperor continued on. "And especially one that I am so connected to."

"What do you mean?"

Nero smiled pleasantly. "Why you were born on the day that I had died before I was reborn as a god. You were obviously destined for great things."

Despite everything that Octavian had said before, he was actually thankful that the idiot was reborn a god. At least this way he didn't have to have nightmares wondering if he had been reborn as the egomaniac.

"What do you want," Octavian said instead. "I have things to do."

Nero chuckled. "I'll be happy to let them go once we've come to an agreement."

"I'm not joining you."

Nero made a snide little barking sound in the back of his nose. "You do not even know what I offer, child. Caligula and Commodus had the right idea, but the wrong execution." He snapped his fingers and Livia appeared at his side. "Why wait until after we have rebuilt the Empire when we can do it now? I hold the power of life and death over my worshippers, like any proper god should." He turned to the girl beside him, placing a hand on her shoulder. She shuddered into his life, solid in a way that she hadn't been before. The intensity of her eyes blaze like the sun of a new day, filled with a life that she had not had the chance to live. "You see? The two of us together can reshape the world. I'll even do you the favor of taking her in like the rest of my children. She'd be my stepdaughter and you can have the most beautiful woman in the world as your wife. Look at that face!"

Livia blinked slowly, fixing her gaze upon Octavian before small, cruel smile pulled onto her lips. "Hello, Octavius."

Geez.

If that didn't sound villainous.

"What did you do to my sister?"

"She is my daughter," Nero corrected. "And I care for her deeply. I did nothing but show her a Father's love since her own was too busy chasing after that Jackson boy."

"What the hell are you talking about," Octavian growled.

But it wasn't Nero who answered him.

Livia's voice pulled at his attention, a hint of confusion and hesitation as she looked at him. "What are you talking about, Octavius? Don't you remember. This is Nero. He's— he's my stepfather. He took me in and raised me after my parents died."

Octavian couldn't believe what he was hearing, but before he could object to that — loudly, he should say— Nero spread his arms. "That's right, my darling," he said. "And you've done a wonderful job. Come to Papa."

Livia skipped to his side, ducking under his arm and curling into his embrace.

"Nero, what have you done?" And there was no mistaking the growl in his voice. "What did you do to her? She wasn't like this when she was leading me here."

Nero clasped his hands as if in prayer. "Oh, my. It seems we've had a slight miscommunication. You see, Octavius, Livia brought you here, just as I asked her to. Well done, my sweet."

"She was supposed to be my guide."

"And she is," Nero smiled. "But I may have influenced the connection just a bit. I am of the same lineage of you after all. Of course, when I did the quest, I needed no guide. I did rather well on my own."

Octavian glared at him. "I'll kill you."

Nero gave his little wheezing laugh once more. Livia smirked at him from his embrace, eyes glittering with cruel amusement.

He sneered, turning disappointed eyes on his sister. "Don't you understand who your protector is? He's a monster! He's the emperor who—"

"Don't say it," Nero warned. "If you say 'who fiddled while Rome burned,' I will have Livia herself flay you for a set of hide armor." The girl pulled away to flick her wrist to grasp her golden dagger. "You know as well as I do, Octavius, we didn't have fiddles back then. And I did not start the Great Fire of Rome."

"But you profited from it."

Nero was that relative you never wanted to invite to Lupercalia dinner.

"Livia," Octavian said, "your so-called stepfather watched as seventy percent of Rome was destroyed. Tens of thousands died."

"I was thirty miles away in Antium!" Nero snarled. "I rushed back to the city and personally led the fire brigades!"

"Only when the fire threatened your palace."

Nero rolled his eyes. "I can't help it if I arrived just in time to save the most important building!"

Livia fixed her gaze onto him, eyes filled with disinterest. That's how he knew for sure that his sister was lost to him by whatever the hell Nero did. Livia believed in stealing from the rich and giving to the poor just like he believed in doing what was right, not what was legal.

(If he cared about legality, then over half of New Roma would be underfunded by the greedy people that held positions of power and only gave it away when he gave himself away to them.)

Octavian probably couldn't outtalk an orator like Nero, but he wouldn't let her be delusion by him either.

"After the Great Fire," Octavian told her, "Instead of rebuilding the houses on Palatine Hill, Nero leveled the neighborhood and built a new palace—the Domus Aurea."

Nero got a dreamy look on his face. "Ah, yes…the House of Gold. It was beautiful, Livia! I had my own lake, three hundred rooms, frescoes of gold, mosaics done in pearls and diamonds—I could finally live like a human being!"

"Livia hated it," Octavian snapped. "You had the nerve to put a hundred-foot-tall bronze statue in your front lawn! A statue of yourself as Sol-Apollo, the sun god."

"Indeed," Nero agreed. "Even after I died, that statue lived on. I understand it became famous as the Colossus of Nero! They moved it to the gladiators' amphitheater and everyone began calling the theater after the statue—the Colosseum." Nero puffed up his chest. "Yes…the statue was the perfect choice. I had style! The people loved me!"

"Livia thought you were coward! She agreed with the people when they turned against you. The people of Rome were sure you'd started the Great Fire, so you scapegoated the Christians."

Nero waved dismissively. "But the Christians were terrorists, you see. Perhaps they didn't start the fire, but they were causing all sorts of other trouble. I recognized that before anyone else!"

Octavian wouldn't disagree with that, but what he did disagree with: "He fed them to the lions." He backtracked on that one. Livia had a flesh-eating horse. She didn't really care about feeding her pets the blood of her enemies. "He burned them as human torches." Wait, that wouldn't work. Fluttershy could breathe fire too.

"He strung up Christians all over his backyard and burned them to illuminate his garden party," Octavian continued as Nero watched them cooly. As if he knew whatever Octavian said wouldn't do a damn thing. "You remember Annia's vision. She could always see things that happened in the past."

"My dear, don't believe his stories!" Nero said. "That was just propaganda invented by my enemies."

"Livia," Octavian said, "he's a madman."

"Nero cared about me, Octavius. He gave me a home. He taught me to fight."

Nero snorted. "Oh, Octavius…you understand so little. When she came back through those doors, I raised her. I kept her alive. Her father was weak, searching for Jackson leaving her all alone in the sea with beings that didn't care about her. They wouldn't protect her like I do." He smiled pleasantly at Octavian. "And I can do the same for you. We are better. We are stronger. We will build a glorious new world."

Octavian sneered. "You want to use me."

"It's not so different than yourself." Nero grinned at him. "I know you, child," the emperor said. "You use people."

Octavian kept his mouth stubbornly shut.

He invested his voice with so much righteous indignation that if Octavian was an idiot, he might have believed him. "You are a user, Octavius. You leave a wake of ruined lives wherever you go. Annia. Augustus. Medea. Alina. Rue. Jason. And your own dear sister." The emperor pouted mockingly, waving a hand towards Livia who was leaning against the wall. He turned to her. "You've seen this with your own eyes, my dear. Using you to get to that awful statue with no care of what will happen to her once it was done."

He scowled and Livia blinked, a look of confusion on her face.

"You ruin your own life, you know." He gave Octavian such a pitying look. "You are always using people for what your own desire that you cast away to all sorts of little projects because you don't actually know what you desire on your own. So, you settle to fix everything else as if it could fill that void within you. That's why you give your body over to those men and women that were old enough to be your parents but touched you as if you were their age. You settle in life because you fear that everything would be taken away from you once more. And because of this, you hurt people in ways that you haven't even seen. You are so indecisive about what you want in life that you drag others... so many innocent people along the way."

He shook his head sadly, clicking his tongue at him.

"Oh, Octavius, I've been living among mortals for thousands of years. You know how many lives I've destroyed? None! I've raised a family of orphans. I've given them luxury, security, love! I've employed thousands. I've improved the world! But you, you have lived for over eighteen years. How many lives have you wrecked? Your sister for just being related to you. That poor lycanthrope, Alina. Your praetor, Reyna. The councilmen of your home and the professors of New Roma. And, of course, Jason Grace."

"Leave him out of this."

Nero spread his hands, glowing just the tiniest bit. "Your love has ruined him for others."

Octavian shook.

"It doesn't have to be this way. You can stand aside and let the others die. Forget about them truthfully." He gave Octavian a somewhat pitting look. Truthfully, the son of Troy was a bit disappointed. This was what Christians were so scared of? Octavian wrote twelve-page argumentative essays in under ten minutes better than this. "It's better this way. You understand, don't you? There would only be a few reasons as to why your prophetic sight would be gone. And wouldn't you rather face me than the reptile?"

Nero might've been the most minor of minor gods, but he still had divine strength. His glow was getting brighter as he approached Octavian.

The emperor stopped in front of Octavian, his eyes flickering with power.

'You lose,' he said. 'Join us.'

"No," Octavian said firmly. Livia blinked in outrage behind him.

"I should have killed you as I did your sister," Nero sneered.

Octavian froze.

Anger roared in his ears. "What," he breathed.

Nero shrugged lightly. "It was a shame that she had to die truthfully. Her fate had been so clear. She would become the daimona of Roma. She would have had power to reshape the world, placing Roma right back in its glory of the Empire."

Octavian felt a bit of grief rush through him. His sister had always been destined for greatness. However, the rage in his heart... in his soul that was threatening to overtake him.

"I wanted to take her in as my own child, but I hadn't accounted for how... stubborn that she could be." The emperor shook his head. "Everyone that I sent after her was sent back to me covered in plaster. A bit of embarrassment really that fully grown men were getting supplex by a toddler. That was of course not mentioning your adult family members. Apologies about them, by the way. When I struck out in my last chance to retrieve her, I had not meant for your family to die in the crossfire."

A reckless, terrible anger possessed him and swallowed him whole. He threw himself at Nero, a cry of outrage mixed with grief on his tongue, intending to wring his hairy excuse for a neck. The two of them went down in a heap and his grappled for hold, clawing at his eyes and squeezing his throat. His mind only clouded with sheer rage and the sweet desire to rip off Nero's head and stuff it down his mauve suit.

He thought he was worthy to be a god? He tried to wipe out the entire of their lineage. Even Zeus didn't do that when he allowed Troy to be destroyed.

Absently, he took note of the golden glow that surrounded him, a radiance that he saw perhaps once or twice in the Titan war that slowing intensifying, building to a crescendo.

The emperor screamed as Octavian drew back his fist and gave him a big thumbs-up right in the eye. Eye injuries – the absolute worst.

Nero snarled, but nothing surprised him more than when arms wrapped around his middle and threw him away from the emperor.

Livia stood over him, eyes brimming in anger.

Nero wiped the blood from his nose, chuckling a bit under his breath. He rose to his feet slowly. "I suppose I should have expected that. Not all plans survive first contact." He shrugged. "It was bit like reading the stars. Those are always the easiest to manipulate."

"You can try, but my sun and rising are wind signs, and my moon sign is fire." Octavian snorted softly, eyes moving between the emperor and his sister. "I'll going to burn your life down for everything you've done to me."

Nero smiled balefully. "Come now, young Octavius. There is no need for all of this. I paved the road. You just walked down it. We still have time to fix it all. It'd be a bit like Roma."

"Roma wasn't built in a day," he sneered. "But it burned to the ground in a night. That's the thing about empires. They are surprisingly fragile."

"You can't get rid of me," Nero stated smugly. "I am immortal. My fasces isn't even here."

Octavian shrugged. He was quite known for making the impossible possible.

He was very good at improvising.

Nero laughed. 'You can't! Don't you understand? All the power of the Triumvirate is mine now.' His eyes lit with sudden glee before trailing off into a bit of mockery and terror. 'You cannot destroy me. Even if you could destroy me... you'd release so much power it would burn you to cinders. And, even if you didn't mind dying, the power … all the power I've been accumulating for centuries would just sink into Delphi … to – to him. You don't want that, believe me!'

Livia regarded them both as if they were a distasteful wall painting.

The terror in his voice was absolutely genuine. Octavian couldn't find it in him to be sympathetic, however.

"Join us," he said a bit desperately. Nero looked on the verge of tears. He seemed like he was ready to set aside centuries of tyranny and power struggles and to betray his reptile overlord. Villainy, after all, was a thankless, exhausting job. "I can influence the reptile. I can convince him to give you your powers back. But kill me, and all is lost. He – he doesn't think like a human. He has no mercy, no compassion. He'll destroy the future of our kind!'

"I don't care," Octavian said. "You killed my mom."

Nero hissed. 'Ungrateful child." He took a deep breath then fixed his gaze on Livia. "How about you convince your brother to make the right choice? I trust your sweet nature, your good senses! Kill him."

Livia charged.

Octavian and Livia wrestled with each other, and it was nothing like when they were children. Not only because her attacks were ferocious, but also because she was shifting between the age of a toddler, a young child, a teenager, and an adult. Her eyes glittered coldly like glaciers approaching from the distance.

Every thump shook the earth, and he could only imagine the innocent people that were frightened from their actions. And though it may have been insensitive, he could imagine that a bit of them would be happy to uncover more mosaics from the empire that had been hidden away.

Nero was stomping around, a crazed smile on his face, screeching, "Kill Octavius! Kill Octavius!" as he was a spider, he'd just spotted scurrying across the floor.

"Livia," he murmured as she pushed him onto his back. She snarled in his face, hands wrapping around his throat. "I...I can't think of a better way to go. We'd... we'd be together again." Her fingers dug into the meat of his skin, the grip tightening around his windpipe.

He broke off with a desperate gasp as the pressure increased. The stone tiles under his body shifted and ripped. His hands trembled as he wrapped them around her wrists. "If this makes you happy, then I will choose your happiness over mine every time."'

"Via—" she breathed. Something flashed over her face just as quickly as it came, increasing the pressure.

"I love you," he told her sincerely. His hand moved until it was directly over her heart. "More than anything in this life."

And then he let the sacred flame burn her whole.

For one horrible moment, the three of them just stared at each other. The earth, the sea, and the heavens stood still.

In the next—

Livia screamed a horrible scream.

The flames consumed her thoroughly and wholly, moving over her body until the only thing left was searing heat radiating from her.

She was screaming all the while.

As the flames died down, so did her screams though Octavian could hear them echoing, fading in and out his awareness, teasing his mind and he knew with certainty that they would follow him into his dreams.

Livia was on her hands and knees, gasping a bit desperately for air despite essentially being a corpse.

Nero growled.

'Do I have to do everything myself?' he yelled. 'Do I have to kill you both? You forget I AM A GOD!'

He marched straight towards Octavian, his whole body starting to glow.

"No," Livia croaked, half conscious. Then, at full volume, she shouted, "NO!" And the Grove of Dodona shouted with her.

Livia was still only half-conscious, struggling to her feet but with a glare of avenging angel. The earth shook around them.

"This is over," the emperor snarled.

"NO," snarled Livia, shouting at full volume. And the earth cried and shook in symphony. The blast was so powerful, it knocked Nero off his feet.

And while Nero's back was turned to her, Livia summoned a weapon from her bracelet, but he couldn't see it from this angle. Her face was set in a stubborn frown, and Octavian could see a lifetime in her eyes; the smiles and laughter and the tears and rage, following him to Camp Jupiter, being raised to praetor, heck maybe even finding love. She would have been the most powerful demidivine being to ever live in the Iron Age.

She surged forward and drove the point of the weapon between Nero's shoulder blades, pushing it in so deeply that the point was through his ribcage. Nero stiffened, beady little eyes wide in shock. His lips moved, as if he was whispering something.

"No one hurts my brother."

Nero dropped to his knees facedown, the sword still in his back, his gladius clattering from his hand. He gave Livia a look that might have been heartbreak—if he had possessed a heart.

The emperor sobbed in despair. 'What have you done? Don't you see?'

Only then did he begin to crumble. His fingers disintegrated. His toga frayed into smoke. A glittery cloud plumed from his mouth and nose, as if he were exhaling his life force along with his final breaths. His face began to crack like plaster. Golden light began to peek through the cracks, shimmering down between the floor's tiles, almost as if Nero was being pulled – clawed and dragged – into the depths, piece by piece.

His clothes were smouldering, his skin molten with burns.

Worst of all – this glitter didn't simply vanish. It poured downward, seeping into the Persian rug, worming into cracks between the floor tiles, almost as if Nero were disintegrating.

'You've given him victory,' he whimpered. 'You've –' He shook turning to look at him. "Apollo must fall, boy."

The last of his mortal form exploded like a firebomb, a tsunami of flames washed over Octavian, along with thousands of years of Nero's pent-up rage, fear and insatiable hunger – the twisted sources of his power. Octavian leaned against the wall, staring at the spot in exhaustion, unharmed though a bit warm if he was honest.

"Oh," came a soft voice from beside him. Octavian lifted his head before horror brought him to his feet. Livia stood her mouth, slightly parted in surprise. She met his eyes, then shifted down to her form. Her legs were beginning to fade, shifting into the cracks of the unstable ground. Her ashes were falling around her like snow, spiraling out like sand from a punching bag.

Her eyes fluttered back to his, bright as the sky on a new day. A small smile appeared on her face. "Thank you." It was no more than a whisper, but he heard.

"Of course," he murmured back.

"The statue is below," she told him.

He looked down at the groaning floor before tilting his gaze back up to her.

She nodded, gazing at him fondly.

"I love you, too." In reference to his earlier words.

"Goodbye, sister."

"Goodbye."

She dissolved and soaked through the floor. The only left behind was her bracelet, shimmering on the piles of ash.

He stumbled over to it, picking it up. Her arrow charm was gone, but he didn't mind. He slipped it onto his wrist and dug into his pocket for the arrow that he stole Commodus.

Octavian stood there by his lonesome. His consciousness dimming in and out. The ground shifted beneath his feet and then he toppled through the floor.

He fell in short order and landed so harshly on his back that his most-definitely-cracked ribs broke more as he folded in half.

Octavian scanned the room. Annabeth and Arachne both stared at him. He supposed he looked worse than the last time Annabeth saw him. His face covered in soot, his left eye swollen shut. Hand shaped bruises around his throat. His shirt was ripped to shreds.

"Oh, don't mind me," he rasped, waving a hand. "Continuing on with whatever this is."

"You are just in time, Son of Troy," came the voice from a spider that was much too big to squash under his VANS. There was only one spider in the myths that he knew would fit a scene like this. Her voice sounded terrifying, and he would pay more attention to that except... his eyes were drawn to the statue covered in cobwebs that was sitting in the middle of the incredibly horrible knock-off storage room.

And honestly, even the statue didn't bring him much joy no matter how beautifully crafted that it was.

He lost his sister again.

The world still turned even as the most pure-hearted person that he ever loved was gone from it.

The monstrous creature picked her way down from the top of the web-covered statue. She moved from strand to strand, hissing with pleasure, her four eyes glittering in the dark. Either she was not in a hurry, or she was slow. "Here is your chance for revenge. To make her suffer just as they have suffered just as I have suffered for thousands of years! Get rid of Athênê's favorite daughter and destroy her in one fell swoop!"

His eyes focused on the statue.

It was a belief of many people that if you spent enough time with a person than you would start to look like them.

Athênê and Pallas had been raised together, the best of friends. A bond cemented so strongly that Athênê took on her name as a testament to their friendship. It was whispered in the same sapphic tones that the people spoke of when they taught about Artemis and Kallisto.

"Octavian..." Annabeth said, but he didn't pay her any attention. Pallas was the daughter of Triton, and she was the pride of the seas. She had the same eyes as her Grandfather. Blue like the calming waves of the sea. Blue like Octavian's own sister, Livia.

He swallowed back the sob that wanted to tear through him.

His sister... his beautiful, little sister and he killed her.

He felt sick.

There was an ache within them that he knew would linger long after the last beat of his own heart in this dark cave. A wound that would fester day after day until it infected his whole being. Her death broke something within him that could nor would ever return and he—he was just a shell of a man. An ever-present cloud would follow him to the end of his days, nipping at his heels, raining grief upon his soul with every step while the familiar chill of death lingered within his heart, encompassing the hole where she once resided.

Next to him, Annabeth limped toward the nearest tapestry—a cityscape of Ancient Rome.

"Marvelous," she said. "Tell me about this tapestry."

Arachne's lips curled over her mandibles. "Why do you care? You're about to die."

"Well, yes," Annabeth said. "But the way you captured the light is amazing. Did you use real golden thread for the sunbeams?"

Arachne allowed herself a smug smile. "No, child. Not gold. I blended the colors, contrasting bright yellow with darker hues. That's what gives it a three-dimensional effect."

"Beautiful."

Absently, Octavian wondered what the girl was doing.

Or well, he knew what she was doing. It was something he was familiar with. Appealing to someone's vanity always worked.

"So..." she said. "Did you see this scene yourself?"

Arachne hissed, her mouth foaming in a not-very-attractive way. "You are trying to delay your death. It won't work."

"No, no," Annabeth insisted. "It just seems a shame that these beautiful tapestries can't be seen by everyone. They belong in a museum, or..."

"Or what?" Arachne asked.

But Octavian knew exactly what she was thinking.

His gaze landed back on that statue, and he felt his heart harden.

He couldn't bring his sister back, but he could get rid of the curse. He could give her and their parents and their cousins and aunts and uncles, give Lyn and all their ancestors before them some peace. Even those assholes emperors.

"Nothing." She sighed wistfully. "It's a silly thought. Too bad."

Arachne scuttled down the statue until she was perched atop the goddess's shield. Even from that distance, Octavian could smell the spider's stink, like an entire bakery full of pastries left to go bad for a month.

"What?" the spider pressed. "What silly thought?"

"Oh...it's just that I was put in charge of redesigning Mount Olympus," she said. "You know, after the Titan War. I've completed most of the work, but we need a lot of quality public art. The throne room of the gods, for instance...I was thinking your work would be perfect to display there. The Olympians could finally see how talented you are. As I said, it was a silly thought."

Arachne's hairy abdomen quivered. Her four eyes glimmered as if she had a separate thought behind each and was trying to weave them into a coherent web.

"You're redesigning Mount Olympus," she said. "My work...in the throne room."

"Well, other places too," Annabeth said. "The main pavilion could use several of these. That one with the Greek landscape—the Nine Muses would love that. And I'm sure the other gods would be fighting over your work as well. They'd compete to have your tapestries in their palaces. I guess, aside from Athena, none of the gods has ever seen what you can do?"

Arachne snapped her mandibles. "Hardly. In the old days, Athênê tore up all my best work. My tapestries depicted the gods in rather unflattering ways, you see. Your mother didn't appreciate that."

"Rather hypocritical," Annabeth said, "since the gods make fun of each other all the time. I think the trick would be to pit one God against another. Ares, for instance, would love a tapestry making fun of my mother. He's always resented Athena."

Arachne's head tilted at an unnatural angle. "You would work against your own mother?"

"I'm just telling you what Ares would like," Annabeth said. "And Zeus would love something that made fun of Poseidon. Oh, I'm sure if the Olympians saw your work, they'd realize how amazing you are, and I'd have to broker a bidding war. As for working against my mother, why shouldn't I? She sent me here to die, didn't she? The last time I saw her in New York, she basically disowned me."

Annabeth told her the story. She shared her bitterness and sorrow, and it sounded a bit genuine if he was honest. The spider did not pounce.

"This is Athênê's nature," Arachne hissed. "She casts aside even her own daughter. The goddess would never allow my tapestries to be shown in the palaces of the gods. She was always jealous of me."

"But imagine if you could get your revenge at long last."

"By killing you!"

"I suppose." Annabeth scratched her head. "Or...by letting me be your agent. I could get your work into Mount Olympus. I could arrange an exhibition for the other gods. By the time my mother found out, it would be too late. The Olympians would finally see that your work is better."

"Then you admit it!" Arachne cried. "A daughter of Athênê admits I am better! Oh, this is sweet to my ears."

Octavian wanted to laugh. She was being played so easily. Her pride would be the death of them all and wasn't it just so hilarious. She fell for the same damn trick twice. Maybe it was a bit different, but it was the same all the while. She was a showman. Just like the other three idiots, she suffered from vanity, wanting a large crowd to watch as she performed what she thought was her due. A full tilt diva. She wanted flowers. She wanted parades. She wanted a monument built in the skies with her name plastered in the stars.

And damn it all if Octavian wasn't going to use it to his advantage.

"But a lot of good it does you," he pointed out as he gave a dark smile. He hoped Annabeth kept using her brain, but then again, he never thought too highly of the greeks. "If she dies down here, you go on living in the dark. Gaea destroys the gods, and they never realize you were the better weaver." He gave a sharp laugh. "Jupiter placed the work of his favorite's daughter's greatest enemy in his throne room and she wouldn't even be able to do anything about it."

The spider hissed.

"This will not do," Arachne grumbled. "I cannot allow it."

"Well..." Annabeth shifted. A new crack appeared in the floor.

"Careful!" Arachne snapped. "The foundations of this shrine have been eaten away over the centuries!"

Both of them faltered. "Eaten away?"

"You have no idea how much hatred boils beneath us," the spider said. "The spiteful thoughts of so many monsters and the legacy of Troy trying to reach the Pallidum and destroy it. My webbing is the only thing holding the room together, girl! One false step, and you'll fall all the way to Tartarus—and believe me, unlike the Doors of Death, this would be a one-way trip, a very hard fall! I will not have you dying before you tell me your plan for my artwork."

Octavian was suddenly reminded of Gaia's words to him in that dream.

"Right, the plan," Annabeth said. "Um...as I said, I'd love to take your tapestries to Olympus and hang them everywhere. You could rub your craftsmanship in Athena's nose for all eternity. But the only way I could do that...No. It's too difficult. You might as well go ahead and kill me."

"No!" Arachne cried. "That is unacceptable. It no longer brings me any pleasure to contemplate. I must have my work on Mount Olympus! What must I do?"

"She shouldn't have said anything," he sneered, carefully maneuvering his tired body closer to the statue. "Just push her into Tartarus and be done with it."

"I refuse!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Annabeth sniffed. "You heard him. Kill me."

"I do not take orders from either of you! Tell me what I must do! Or...or—"

"Or you'll kill her?"

"Yes! No!" The spider pressed her front legs against her head. "I must show my work on Mount Olympus."

"Fine," Octavian scoffed. "See if she can get your work to Olympos, but I'm taking the statue."

"I suppose I could pull a few strings," Annabeth conceded with a shrug. "He can have the statue. I can have my life. And your work can live on the home of the gods."

Octavian met the blonde's eyes and gave her a small nod. None of them noticed the way that the statue seemed to glimmer just a bit more.

"I excel at pulling strings!" said Arachne. "I'm a spider!"

"Yes, but to get your work shown on Mount Olympus, we'd need a proper audition. I'd have to pitch the idea, submit a proposal, put together a portfolio. Hmm...do you have any headshots?"

"Headshots?"

"Glossy black-and-white...Oh, never mind. The audition piece is the most important thing. These tapestries are excellent. But the gods would require something really special—something that shows off your talent in the extreme."

Arachne snarled. "Are you suggesting that these are not my best work? Are you challenging me to a contest?"

"Oh, no!" Annabeth laughed. "Against me? Gosh, no. You are much too good. It would only be a contest against yourself, to see if you really have what it takes to show your work on Mount Olympus."

"Of course, I do!"

"Well, I certainly think so. But the audition, you know...it's a formality. I'm afraid it would be very difficult. Are you sure you don't just want to kill me?"

"Stop saying that!" Arachne screeched. "What must I make?"

"I'll show you." Annabeth unslung her backpack and took out a laptop. The delta logo glowed in the dark.

"What is that?" Arachne asked. "Some sort of loom?"

"In a way," Annabeth said. "It's for weaving ideas. It holds a diagram of the artwork you would build."

Her fingers trembled on the keyboard. Arachne lowered herself to peer directly over Annabeth's shoulder.

The golden light from the screen illuminated the spider's face. "You want me to make that? But this is nothing! So small and simple!"

"The actual size would be much bigger," Annabeth cautioned. "You see these measurements? Naturally it must be large enough to impress the gods. It may look simple, but the structure has incredible properties. Your spider silk would be the perfect material—soft and flexible, yet hard as steel."

"I see..." Arachne frowned. "But this isn't even a tapestry."

"That's why it's a challenge. It's outside your comfort zone. A piece like this—an abstract sculpture—is what the gods are looking for. It would stand in the entry hall of the Olympian throne room for every visitor to see. You would be famous forever!"

Arachne made a discontented hum in her throat.

Please, he thought, leaning onto the Pallidum. He imagined that he was standing in the halls of Olympos, standing before the throne of the second being he hated the most in the world. Nero obviously catapulted himself into first place. He imagined he looked into those fair eyes. Save us.

"This would take a great deal of web," the spider complained. "More than I could make in a year."

You'd need to unravel the statue," Annabeth said. "Reuse the silk."

Arachne seemed about to object, but Annabeth waved at the Trojan Pallidum like it was nothing. "What's more important—covering that old statue or proving your artwork is the best? Of course, you'd have to be incredibly careful. You'd need to leave enough webbing to hold the room together. And if you think it's too difficult—"

Octavian patted his arms and legs desperately for some ambrosia or something. All he could come up with though was the Necklace of Harmonia.

And he had another idea that could possibly get the both of them out of there.

He glanced back at the statue and gave a reluctant thanks.

"I didn't say that!"

"Okay. It's just...Athena said that creating this braided structure would be impossible for any weaver, even her. So if you don't think you can—"

"Athênê said that?"

"Well, yeah."

"Ridiculous! I can do it!"

"Great! But you'd need to start right away, before the Olympians choose another artist for their installations."

Arachne growled. "If you are tricking me, girl—"

"You'll have her right there as a hostage," Octavian reminded her. "It's not like she can go anywhere. Once this sculpture is complete, you'll agree that it's the most amazing piece you've ever done. If not, I will gladly kill her. In fact, I'd kill her and throw in this necklace."

The necklace of Harmonia glittered beautifully in his hands.

"It was a gift from the gods," he says. "A gift from my forefather. A piece of divinity from his mother, Venus. It'd change you back to a mortal."

And the look on the spider's eyes was practically hungry. Almost demonic in nature and if he somehow managed to survive this, he was going to need a shower for each of her eyes.

"Fine," the spider said at last. "One last challenge—against myself!"

Arachne climbed her web and began to unravel the Trojan Pallidum.

Annabeth and Octavian sat on the crumbling floor and tried to preserve their strength.

While Arachne wasn't watching, she attempted to get some sort of signal on the laptop to contact her friends, but of course she had no luck. Meanwhile, he was trying to recall his Mother's and frighteningly enough, Pranjal's lesson on medicare as he set about fixing his own broken ribs. There wasn't much he could do except use a bit of the spare spider silk on the ground that wasn't connected to the statue and try not to be disgusted about it.

Though, that pain and disgust he felt didn't managed to diminish the amazement and horror as Arachne worked, her eight legs moving with hypnotic speed, slowly unraveling the silk strands around the statue.

Octavian managed to push past that, thinking of his kind-hearted sister. Forever stuck in one age yet still so loved by the gods. He would have done the same as Athênê if he was being honest. Livius Octavius had a nice ring to it.

More than that, the statue radiated power. As the pallidum was unwrapped, the air around it grew warmer. Her ivory skin glowed with life. All across the room, the smaller spiders became agitated and began retreating back into the hallway. Arachne's webs must have somehow masked and dampened the statue's magic. Now that it was free, the Trojan Pallidum filled the chamber with magical energy. Centuries of mortal prayers and burnt offerings had been made in its presence. It was infused with the power of Athênê.

The power of the sea embodied by the love of Athênê.

Deep within the tattered fragments of his soul, it reminded Octavian of home.

Arachne didn't seem to notice. She kept muttering to herself, counting out yards of silk and calculating the number of strands her project would require.

Whenever she hesitated, Annabeth called out encouragement and reminded her how wonderful her tapestries would look on Mount Olympus.

The statue grew so warm and bright that they could see more details of the shrine—the Roman masonry that had probably once been gleaming white, the dark bones of Arachne's past victims and meals hanging in the web, and the massive cables of silk that connected the floor to the ceiling. The tiles were fragile under them. They were covered in a fine layer of webbing, like mesh holding together a shattered mirror. Whenever the Trojan Pallidum shifted even slightly, more cracks spread and widened along the floor. In some places, there were holes as big as manhole covers.

"So much silk," Arachne muttered. "I could make twenty tapestries—"

"Keep going!" Annabeth called up. "You're doing a wonderful job."

The spider kept working. After what seemed like forever, a mountain of glistening silk was piled at the feet of the statue. The walls of the chamber were still covered in webs. The support cables holding the room together hadn't been disturbed.

But the Trojan Pallidum was free.

The cracks seemed to be spreading across the floor more rapidly. According to Arachne, the malicious thoughts of monsters had eaten away at the shrine's foundations for centuries. If that was true, now that it was free the Trojan Pallidum might be attracting even more attention from the monsters in Tartarus.

"The design," Annabeth said. "You should hurry."

She lifted the computer screen for Arachne to see, but the spider snapped, "I've memorized it, child. I have an artist's eye for detail."

"Of course, you do. But we should hurry."

"Why?"

"Well...so we can introduce your work to the world!"

"Hmm. Very well."

Arachne began to weave. It was slow work, turning silk strands into long strips of cloth. The chamber rumbled. The cracks at their feet became wider.

If Arachne noticed, she didn't seem to care. Annabeth considered trying to push the spider into the pit somehow, but she dismissed the idea. There wasn't a big enough hole, and besides, if the floor gave way, Arachne could probably hang from her silk and escape, while the two of them and the ancient statue would tumble into Tartarus.

Slowly, Arachne finished the long strips of silk and braided them together.

Her skill was flawless.

Arachne worked more quickly, bringing the strands together. Soon, the structure was done. At the feet of the statue lay a braided cylinder of silk strips, five feet in diameter and ten feet long. The surface glistened like an abalone shell, but Octavian could only stare. The girl had the monster build chinese handcuffs... the thought trailed off slowly in his mind. If Annabeth played her cards right, it would be a beautiful and functional trap.

Arachne turned to her with a hungry smile. "Done! Now, my reward! Prove to me that you can deliver on your promises." She cast her gaze to Octavian. "And you! Give me that necklace."

Annabeth studied the trap. She frowned and walked around it, inspecting the weaving from every angle. Then, careful of her bad ankle, she got down on hands and knees and crawled inside, slipping through the silken tunnel without touching the sides. She crawled out the other end and shook her head.

The two demigods shared looks before he tossed the necklace over.

"There's a flaw," she said.

"What?!" Arachne cried, almost dropping the cursed item. "Impossible! I followed your instructions—"

"Inside," Annabeth said. "Crawl in and see for yourself. It's right in the middle—a flaw in the weaving."

Arachne foamed at the mouth and stamped her eight legs petulantly. "I do not make mistakes."

"Oh, it's small," Annabeth said. "You can probably fix it. But I don't want to show the gods anything but your best work. Look, go inside and check. If you can fix it, then we'll show it to the Olympians. You'll be the most famous artist of all time. They'll probably fire the Nine Muses and hire you to oversee all the arts. The goddess Arachne...yes, I wouldn't be surprised."

"The goddess..." Arachne's breathing turned shallow, gazing at the necklace in her hand. Demigods and legacies worshipped deities. Not monsters. "Yes, yes. I will fix this flaw." She poked her head into the tunnel. "Where is it?"

"Right in the middle," Annabeth urged. "Go ahead. It might be a bit snug for you."

"I'm fine!" she snapped, and wriggled in.

As Octavian watched, the spider's abdomen fit, but only barely. As she pushed her way in, the braided strips of silk expanded to accommodate her.

Arachne got all the way up to her spinnerets.

"I see no flaw!" she announced.

"Really?" Annabeth asked. "Well, that's odd. Come out and I'll take another look."

Moment of truth. Arachne wriggled, trying to back up. The woven tunnel contracted around her and held her fast. She tried to wriggle forward, but the trap was already stuck to her abdomen. She couldn't get through that way either. For a moment, he had been afraid the spider's barbed legs might puncture the silk, but Arachne's legs were pressed so tightly against her body she could barely move them.

Grudgingly, he could admit that it was a good plan.

"What—what is this?" she called. "I am stuck!"

"Ah," Annabeth said. "I forgot to tell you. This piece of art is called Chinese Handcuffs. At least, it's a larger variation on that idea. I call it Chinese Spider-cuffs."

"Treachery!" Arachne thrashed and rolled and squirmed, but the trap held her tight. "Son of Troy! Kill her."

Octavian yawned. "Nah."

"It was a matter of survival," Annabeth said. "You were going to kill me either way, whether I helped you or not, yes?"

"Well, of course! You're a child of Athênê." The trap went still. "I mean...no, of course not! I respect my promises."

"Uh-huh." Annabeth stepped back as the braided cylinder began to thrash again. "Normally these traps are made from woven bamboo, but spider silk is even better. It will hold you fast, and it's much too strong to break—even for you."

"Gahhhh!" Arachne rolled and wriggled, but Annabeth moved out of the way. Even with her broken ankle, she could manage to avoid a giant silk finger trap. Octavian was impressed.

"I will destroy you!" Arachne promised. "I mean...no, I'll be very nice to you if you let me out."

"I'd save my energy if I were you." Annabeth took a deep breath, relaxing for the first time in hours. She turned to look at Octavian. "You don't want revenge?"

"The best revenge is a life well lived," he quoted. "We're good, Chase. I can feel the curse lifting like removing a stack of bricks off my shoulders one by one."

She smiled softly. "I'm going to call our friends." Octavian nodded, breathing a bit heavily as he clutched his ribs.

"You—you're going to call them about my artwork?" Arachne asked hopefully.

Annabeth scanned the room.

Arachne began to roll around again. "You're calling your friends to kill me!" she shrieked. "I will not die! Not like this!"

"Calm down," Annabeth said. "We'll let you live. We just want the statue."

"The statue?"

"Yes. The artwork that I'll display most prominently on Mount Olympus? It won't be yours. The Trojan Pallidum belongs there—right in the central park of the gods."

"No! No, that's horrible!"

"Oh, it won't happen right away," Annabeth said. "First we'll take the statue with us to Greece. A prophecy told us it has the power to help defeat the giants. After that...well, we can't simply restore it to the Troy. That would raise too many questions. It'll be safer in Mount Olympus. It will unite the children of Athena and the children of Troy and bring peace to the Romans and Greeks. Thanks for keeping it safe all these centuries. You've done Athena a great service."

Octavian stared with wide eyes. He took back every good word he said about her. Was she trying to get them killed?

Arachne screamed and flailed. A strand of silk shot from the monster's spinnerets and attached itself to a tapestry on the far wall. Arachne contracted her abdomen and blindly ripped away the weaving. She continued to roll, shooting silk randomly, pulling over braziers of magic fire and ripping tiles out of the floor. The chamber shook. Tapestries began to burn.

"Stop that!" Annabeth tried to hobble out of the way of the spider's silk. "You'll bring down the whole cavern and kill us all!"

"Better than seeing you win!" Arachne cried. "My children! Help me!"

Spiders began swarming into the chamber. The statue glowed brighter. The spiders clearly didn't want to approach, but they edged forward as if gathering their courage. Their mother was screaming for help. Eventually they would pour in, overwhelming them.

"Arachne, stop it!" they yelled. "I'll—"

Somehow Arachne twisted in her prison, pointing her abdomen toward the sound of Annabeth's voice. A strand of silk hit her in the chest like a heavy-weight's glove.

Annabeth fell, her leg flaring with pain. She slashed wildly at the webbing with her dagger as Arachne pulled her toward her snapping spinnerets. She managed to cut the strand and crawl away, but the little spiders were closing around her.

Octavian reached out towards her, using his own dagger to cut away the strands around her, grabbing ahold of her hands to pull her closer to him and the stature.

At that moment, the chamber groaned, and the cavern ceiling exploded in a blast of fiery light.

Octavian threw himself over her; his ribs screaming in protest. Chunks of asphalt as big as garage doors tumbled down, along with six or seven Italian cars. As the roof of the cavern collapsed, sunlight blinded them. Octavian squinted, turning his head just in time to see a bright red Fiat 500 slam into Arachne's silk trap, punching through the cavern floor and disappearing with the Chinese Spidercuffs. As Arachne fell, she screamed like a freight train on a collision course; but her wailing rapidly faded. All around them, more chunks of debris slammed through the floor, riddling it with holes.

They glanced upwards and Octavian had seen strange things before, but he'd never seen it rain cars. There was the briefest glimpse of the Argo II hovering above. It must have used its ballistae to blast a hole straight through the ground.

The Pallidum remained undamaged, though the marble under its pedestal was a starburst of fractures. The two of them were covered in cobwebs. He rolled off of her, the pain of his ribs causing him to near pass out. The army of spiders had disappeared. Either they had fled back into the darkness, or they'd fallen into the chasm. As daylight flooded the cavern, Arachne's tapestries along the walls crumbled to dust, which Octavian could hardly bear to watch—especially the tapestry depicting him and Jason though there was an image of Jake and Annabeth kissing also.

But none of that mattered when he heard Jason's voice from above: "Octavian!"

"Here!" Annabeth sobbed.

All the terror seemed to leave them in one massive yelp. As the Argo II descended, he saw Jason leaning over the rail. His smile was better than any tapestry he'd ever seen. Jake was at his side, eyes gleaming with unadulterated joy and happiness and love and a bunch of other sickeningly sweet feelings as he gazed at his girlfriend.

Octavian could pay it no attention.

The world was collapsing, and the only thing that really mattered to him was that Jason was there.

The room kept shaking, but Annabeth helped him sit up as she managed to stand. The floor at their feet seemed stable for the moment. They edged closer to the gaping hole made by the Fiat 500. Jagged rock walls plunged into the darkness as far as Octavian could see. A few small ledges jutted out here and there, but Annabeth saw nothing on them—just strands of spider silk dripping over the sides like Christmas tinsel.

He wondered if Arachne had told the truth about the chasm. Had the spider fallen all the way to Tartarus? He tried to feel satisfied with that idea, but it made him sad. Arachne had made some beautiful things. She'd already suffered for eons. Now her last tapestries had crumbled. After all that, falling into Tartarus seemed like too harsh an end.

Annabeth was dimly aware of the Argo II hovering to a stop about forty feet from the floor. It lowered a rope ladder, but they stood in a daze, staring into the darkness. Then suddenly Jason was next to him, lacing his fingers in his own. Octavian stared at him, eyes filled with exhaustion and bruises covering his skin like paint. The light in his eyes could only be described as broken.

"You came for me," he murmured.

"The day I don't come for you," Jason said as he fell to his knees in front of him, hands trembling as they cradled his face. "Is the day the world ends."

Octavian buried his face in his chest and broke down in tears.

He could feel hands on him, the familiar soothing glow of Pranjal's healing touch.

"It's okay," Jason said. "We're together."

Octavian shuddered, breathing a bit easier now that his ribs weren't lying so uncomfortably on his lungs. Together. That's all he wanted. To be with Jason. Absently, he could hear Annabeth explaining her quest. Absently, he could feel himself being maneuvered to lie against Jason since Will and Pranjal didn't want to move him just yet with the extent of his injuries.

When she got to the part about Octavian skydiving into the room, he had been able to breathe enough through his bruises to tell his own story with the god-emperors, the mention of Medea still lingering around, and his... his fight with Livia. He turned his gaze away from Lina and Percy as he explained to them how he let her die again... and this time, he had been the one to kill her.

"Gods of Olympus," Jason said. "You did all that alone. With a broken ankle. Broken ribs."

"Well...some of it with a broken ankle." Annabeth said and Octavian huffed, "All of it with broken ribs."

Jake grinned. "You made Arachne weave her own trap? I knew you were good, but Holy Hera—Annabeth, you did it. Generations of Athena kids tried and failed. You found the Trojan Pallidum!" He turned that same bright smile upon Octavian who blinked in the face of it. "And you... you did what no other member of your family had ever done. You gave it up?"

Octavian nodded slowly. "I gave up my family's own hatred and pride." A hand grasped his and he traced it back to Annabeth who smiled back at him. "And I gave up my sibling's hatred and pride."

"For if when we were enemies," Rue mused. "You were reconciled to the gods, Aphrodite and Athena and, through the return of the statue, much more having been reconciled. The statue is a peace-offering from both sides, the Argives and the Trojans, to the two goddesses that spearheaded the war. And since Queen Hera was the one to bring you together..."

Octavian gave a small breath of laughter. "I got a bunch of teddy bears to slice in the near future." Though the smile didn't stay on his face, as he thought over Nero's words.

"What do we do with her?" Frank asked, turning to look at the statue. "She's huge."

"We'll have to take her with us to Greece," Annabeth said. "The statue is powerful. Something about it will help us stop the giants."

"The giants' bane stands gold and pale," Rue quoted. "Won with pain from a woven jail." Ast looked at Annabeth with admiration. "It was Arachne's jail. You tricked her into weaving it."

Leo raised his hands. He made a finger picture frame around the Trojan Pallidum like he was taking measurements. "Well, it might take some rearranging, but I think we can fit her through the bay doors in the stable. If she sticks out the end, I might have to wrap a flag around her feet or something."

"What about you guys?" Octavian asked. "What happened with the giants?"

Percy told them about rescuing Nico, the appearance of Bacchus, and the fight with the twins in the Colosseum. Rue's eyes slipped closed since it seemed that he did complete the ritual. He was back on the ship in the infirmary. Nico didn't say much. The poor guy looked like he'd been wandering through a wasteland for six weeks. Percy explained how Travis and Cecil had traveled into the son of Hades' dreamscape and learned what Nico had found out about the Doors of Death, and how they had to be closed on both sides. Even with sunlight streaming in from above, Percy's news made the cavern seem dark again.

"So, the mortal side is in Epirus," Annabeth said. "At least that's somewhere we can reach."

Rue grimaced. "But the other side is the problem. Tartarus."

The word seemed to echo through the chamber. The pit behind them exhaled a cold blast of air. That's when the two of them knew with certainty. The chasm did go straight to the Underworld. The others must have felt it too. Jake guided her a little farther from the edge. Her arms and legs trailed spider silk like a bridal train.

Percy said, "Bacchus mentioned something about my voyage being harder than I expected. Not sure why—"

The chamber groaned. The Trojan Pallidum tilted to one side. Its head caught on one of Arachne's support cables, but the marble foundation under the pedestal was crumbling.

Nausea swelled in Octavian's chest. If the statue fell into the chasm, everything would have been for nothing. Their quest would fail. He would have lost Livia for nothing.

"Secure it!" Annabeth cried.

Her friends understood immediately.

"Zhang!" Leo cried. "Get me to the helm, quick! The coach is up there alone. Jake, I'm going to need your help."

Frank transformed into a giant eagle, and the two of them soared toward the ship.

"Go," Annabeth told him when he hesitated.

"I got her," Percy told him. Jake nodded and took off.

Terrel and Lou Ellen hovered off the ground. Terrel had an arm around Piper while Lou Ellen held Drew. "Back for you guys in a sec."

Leila and Katie following Pranjal's orders as they set about making an impromptu spine board to carry him upwards.

"This floor won't last!" Rue warned. "The rest of us should get to the ladder."

Plumes of dust and cobwebs blasted from holes in the floor. The spider's silk support cables trembled like massive guitar strings and began to snap. Rue lunged for the bottom of the rope ladder and gestured for Will to follow.

Percy gripped Annabeth's hand tighter. "It'll be fine," he muttered.

Looking up, they saw grappling lines shoot from the Argo II and wrap around the statue. One lassoed Pallas's neck like a noose. Jake shouted orders from the helm as Terrel and Frank flew frantically from line to line, trying to secure them.

"You need to help them," Octavian told Jason as he was eased onto the stretcher. Pranjal eyed him for a moment, nodding to Percy who grasped the other end while Leila and Katie rushed back over to the ship.

Jason nodded. "I will. Right after I get you up there."

Pranjal turned to get to the ship.

But just as the boys lifted Octavian, Annabeth gasped and stumbled.

"What is it?" Percy asked.

Octavian was placed back down on the ground as they turned to her. His brows furrowed. Why was she moving backwards? Her legs swept out from under her, and she fell on her face.

"Her ankle!" Leila shouted from the ladder. "Cut it! Cut it!"

Cut her ankle?

Then something yanked Annabeth backward and dragged her toward the pit. All three of them lunged towards her even if Octavian's body protested the treatment. Pranjal cursed just a bit and Octavian twisted just enough to see him picking his way across the broken floor.

Octavian grabbed Percy's arm as he held onto Annabeth, but the momentum carried each of them over the wall.

"Help them!" Katie yelled.

Octavian glimpsed Pranjal rushing back to them, Katie and Leila making daring jumps and swings through the air. Their other friends were still focused on the statue, and Katie's cry was lost in the general shouting and the rumbling of the cavern.

Octavian almost black out in pain as he hit the edge of the pit. His freshly healed ribs crying in protest.

Too late, he realized what was happening: Annabeth was tangled in the spider silk.

One of the strands must have been wrapped around her foot—and the other end went straight into the pit. It was attached to something heavy down in the darkness, something that was pulling her in.

"No," Percy muttered, light dawning in his eyes. "My sword..."

But he couldn't reach Riptide without letting go of either of their arms. Annabeth slipped over the edge. Percy fell with her, and Octavian fell with him.

He must have blacked out briefly from the pain this time as his fall was stopped. When he could see again, they had fallen partway into the pit and as he cast his own gaze up to see Jason's holding onto a tiny ledge and straining as he tried to pull the three of them up.

No escape, said a voice in the darkness below. I go to Tartarus, and you will come too.

The pit shook.

Jason was straining, muscles tensed. Octavian's arm moved as Percy threw them closer to a ledge, his feet touching cavern wall as he tried to relieve some of the pressure so that Jason could pull them up.

Pranjal leaned over the edge of the chasm, thrusting out his hand, but he was much too far away to help. Leila and Katie were yelling for the others, but even if they heard them over all the chaos, they'd never make it in time.

The girls' faces were set in determination as they start unweaving the spinal board to make ropes.

The force of the Underworld tugged at them like dark gravity.

"Percy, let me go," Annabeth croaked. "You can't pull me up. It's too much weight for Jason to pull alone."

Jaaon's face was white with effort. "No," the son of Jove argued before Percy could say anything. "We're not losing anyone else. Not now. Not ever again."

Octavian sobbed as he tightened his grip on Percy's hand, feeling the younger boy attempt to loosen his own.

"Never," Jason repeated. He looked up at Pranjal, fifteen feet above. "The other side, Pranjal! We'll see you there. Understand?"

Pranjal's eyes widened. Katie and Leila stiffened. "But—"

"Lead them there!" Jason shouted. "Promise me!"

"I—I will."

Percy swallowed thickly. "Tell Jake that I'll protect her! I'll get her back to him!"

Below them, the voice laughed in the darkness. Sacrifices. Beautiful sacrifices to wake the goddess.

Octavian had no care for them as he and Jason locked gazes.

"Let's meet again in my next life, okay," Octavian said with a watery smile. Staring into the eyes of the love of his life, memorizing them as best as he could while he loosened his grip. "My heart has been yours until the end."

"We're staying together," Jason swore intensely, ignoring his words. He tightened his grip on Octavian's wrist. His face was gaunt, scraped and bloody, his hair dusted with cobwebs, but when they locked eyes, he thought he had never looked more handsome. "You're not getting away from me. Never again."

Perseus gave a strained smile from where he was holding onto Annabeth. He looked at the girl, "We've been through too much together," and then he turned back to Octavian. "And I'm not letting my sister's brother die."

"Me either, Octavian shuddered. This was a one-way trip. A very hard fall.

He looked at Jason who looked back at him.

"I've been in love with you since I was twelve, you idiot. Not even the gods above can separate the two of us anymore."

"As long as we're together," Octavian said, voice choking with tears.

Above them, the others were still screaming for help. He saw the sunlight far, far above—maybe the last sunlight he would ever see. He thought about that stupid prophecy: Apollo must fall; as Jason let go of his tiny ledge, and together, holding hands, the four of them fell into endless darkness... he made a promise to get the three of them out of there. To let the sun rise and shine on them again.

And he swore that on the River Styx.

END OF ARC THREE

THE CURSE OF TROY

Word Count: 13, 330

COMMENTS FROM THE AUTHOR:

1) This is a short chapter. I wanted to say short and sweet, but there's nothing really sweet about it. You all know how the end of the MoA goes.

2) So, I fashioned the God-Emperors (and Livia) here after the three beasts from the book of revelations and Livia as the Whore of Babylon.

2A) The Whore's apocalyptic downfall is prophesied to take place in the hands of the image of the beast with seven heads and ten horns.

2B) Livia's more solid form was in connection to Nero. She "died" after he died but at the same time, she was also the spiritual connection the statue. When Octavian purified her and removed Nero's soul from her, she stepped out of the WoB role and back into what she was.

2C) It sounded better in my outline tbh.

3) Fair Warning: We're about to get really bloody in the next arcs.

3A) The quest started out with 46 ppl (47 when you count Livia) people on the ship. Nine of them are gone. 3 of them are dead. 1 of them is as good as dead. Five of them are hostages. Chances are they'll be sailing back to America with less than that.

THINGS TO KNOW:

1) According to a few scarce traditions, the Palladium failed to bring Diomēdēs any luck due to the unrighteous way he obtained it. He was informed by an oracle, that he should be exposed to unceasing sufferings unless he restored the sacred image to the Trojans. Therefore, he gave it back to his enemy, Aineías. Annabeth as the daughter of Diomēdēs, and champion of Athênê gifts the palladium to Octavian, the son of Troy thus healing the rift.

2) When I first started piecing Octavian's lineage together, I had just like the idea that he was related to every emperor of the Empire without doing any fact checks, but as I started writing this and rewriting Surface Pressure and doing more research, I wanted to get a bit more accurate than secret affair babies.

2A) The lineage of Augustus endured into the era of the Nerva-Antonine dynasty, the house that succeeded the Flavians. Augustus' bloodline outlived his dynasty through the descendants of his first granddaughter, Julia the Younger, who married Lucius Aemilius Paullus and gave birth to Aemilia Lepida. After marrying Marcus Junius Silanus Torquatus, Aemilia gave birth to several children, including Junia Calvina and Junia Lepida.

2B) Junia Lepida, married Gaius Cassius Longinus and produced a daughter called Cassia Longina.

2C) The Roman general Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo married Cassia, who provided him with two daughters, including Domitia Longina, later wife of the emperor Domitian.

2D) Domitian's brother was Emperor Titus of the Flavian dynasty. Titus' second wife was Marcia Furnilla, the aunt of Emperor Trajan who adopted his first cousin once removed and great-nephew by marriage Hadrian.

2E) Hadrian then became emperor and adopted his half-nephew by marriage Antoninus Pius to be his heir.

2F) Then Emperor Antoninus adopted both Hadrian's half-great-nephew by marriage Marcus Aurelius (Antonius' nephew by marriage) and the son of Hadrian's original planned successor, Lucius Verus. Emperor Marcus Aurelius's own son, Commodus, then became emperor.

2G) AND, Commodus' mother allegedly had an affair with Cassius who had also married into the Cassia's family.

3) Fun Fact: I did not know that Verus was an actual family name in Ancient Roma. I think I was just looking at latin words and since Verus means: true, truthful, genuine, or actual and I liked it because Apollo is the god of truth and prophecy and Octavian's prophecies always came true (though canon-wise, they just didn't happen the way he thought they were but they came true!)

4) Minerva is the one that cursed Arachne. Not Athênê. Literally, two different goddesses!

5) Instead of The Athênê Parthenos, we get The Trojan Palladium. "The most ancient talismanic effigies of Athênê". The Palladium, fashioned by Athênê in remorse for the death of Pallas.

5A) Here, Athênê imbued it with her power and it grew as tall as the Parthenos.

5B) It was made of olive wood and decorated in gold and ivory with eyes either the color of Tanzanite or the color of Aquaprase.

6) Apollo was never properly hellenized into the roman empire so he kept his name, but Roman poets tended to refer to him by his epithet, Phoebus, so that could be considered his roman name. Sort of like how they use Pluto and Bacchus as the names for Háidēs and Dionysos.

6A) One day. One day real soon. I will have a proper roman theogony written! Just you wait.